Page 23 of What She Deserves
She smiled. “Yes, she is.”
“It’s before midnight. I want to see you. You want me to come to you, or will you come to me?”
Layla thought for a minute and then decided going to his home gave her leverage because she could leave whenever she wanted—as opposed to having to get him out of her apartment if he came to her.
“I’ll come to your place, but I need to stop at Ethan’s first to drop off a few things. Then I’ll come over.”
“The slave driver continues to slave drive even when he’s not here, huh?”
“He’s not bad, and I should have a few quiet days while he’s gone.”
Rashad grunted but didn’t comment further. “How long before you get here?”
“Anxious, are you?”
He chuckled. “Maybe. How long?”
“Less than an hour. I’ll call when I’m close.”
“Do that. I’m waiting.”
Layla pushed the speedometer higher on the way to Ethan’s mansion. At first, she wasn’t sure how this was going to work, but now she saw that it was completely possible for them to reignite their sexual relationship, and everything would be nice and uncomplicated.
They both knew what they were getting themselves into. Unlike last time, there would be no surprise conversations about slowing things down, and she was pleased that she hadn’t completely capitulated to him. She’d created her own version of a relationship, one where she didn’t have concerns about falling for Rashad again. Because she wouldn’t. She saw through him now and knew he wasn’t the man for her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself in the search for Mr. Right.
Her stop at Ethan’s lasted twenty minutes because she took a quick shower in one of the guest suites when she dropped off his personal belongings. Before leaving, she picked up two other suits that needed adjusting, which she’d take to his tailor first thing in the morning.
Back on the road, she called Rashad and let him know she was on her way. He gave her the password for the doorman, that way he’d send her right up when she arrived. She parked her car and then entered the lobby of the apartment building, and minutes later she was in the elevator, climbing to the eleventh floor.
Rashad opened the door before she knocked, which meant the doorman had alerted him of her arrival. He had the appearance of casual relaxation in jeans and a grey Henley that hugged his biceps and showed off the contours of his muscular torso, but his eyes were a dead giveaway. They focused on her with intensity, blaring the truth of his desire like a beacon in the night.
“Hi,” she said softly, already panting.
He pulled her into the apartment with one arm around her waist and didn’t lose any time kissing her hungrily and thoroughly. Layla flung her arms around his neck and willingly opened her mouth beneath his, sucking on his tongue and thrusting hers into his.
“I feel like I’ve waited forever for this,” he said huskily, his voice sounding ravenous and thick. He sucked on her ear lobe and kissed her neck.
“Me too,” Layla gasped, straining on her toes to better position the hard ridge pressing against her lower stomach. She’d anticipated this night with such longing that at times she felt as if the ache would never go away—as if her entire body had become a single throbbing nerve.
Rashad’s hands lowered to her denim-clad bottom, and no more talking was necessary.
They both knew why she was there.
