Page 73 of Laila Manning
“Deal!” She cheered eagerly, sliding off the table and winking at me.
And gone were the anxiety and fear that had been consuming her when we walked into the room. And in their place, there was peace and humor. Which was exactly how it should be.
But as she leaned into my body and wrapped her arm around my waist for support as we walked out the rear exit of the building to my waiting car, I vowed to make sure whoever put her into that panic to begin with would never feel peace again.
No, they’d only feel terror and pain when I figured out who hurt her.
Because someone in that room tonight hurt my girl. And I wasn’t dumb enough to think they did it tonight.
They were from her past.
And I was going to end their future.
Chapter 19 – Zeke
Her breathing was even, the soft flow of it branding my skin with each exhale. It assured me she was alive and well,whole. Because without feeling her breath, or the steady beat of her heart, my brain wouldn’t believe she was fine.
There was a disconnect between rational thought and fear. And I was stuck living somewhere between them since meeting her.
When Carly wanted to take her away from my side at the gala, I protested, tightening my hold on her in a physical rebuttal to the idea. Then Laila had assured me she would be fine, a mere fifty feet away while I stayed and finished my conversation.
She didn’t realize I was clinging to her for my own sanity, not just protecting hers.
So, I let her go. Gave her space to spread her wings and find her footing with her bravery fully in place and the strong and fiery Carly at her side. One interaction followed another, and a call to duty arose that I couldn’t refuse; Ryker was pulled from our central location inthe room and into the shadows to conduct business. I was his second, so I couldn’t stand outside of that circle during that conversation. I had no choice.
Ten minutes.
That was all it had been from the moment she left my side until her panicked and agonized face came through the crowd where she clung to Elora, searching for me.
Ten minutes, and she was broken.
She wouldn’t tell me what happened, instead, demanded that I make her forget all about it with my touch.
With my body.
She had no fucking clue how hard it was to resist the urge to slide deep inside of her for the first time, after holding back for months with nothing but small glimpses into the pleasure I’d find in bed with her.
The only reason I denied her when she begged me so prettily was that she deserved so much better for our first time. She deserved romance, and worship, and things I didn’t have time to give her with the busy party carrying on right outside the door.
Instead, I gave her what I could.
I gave her power.
Watching her ride my thigh and make herself come was one of the most erotic things I’d ever seen before. And I hardly touched her at that moment.
But tasting her.
Jesus fuck, tasting her sweet pussy for the first time, spreading her thighs and pushing her body into ecstasy again so soon after her first orgasm, was pure selfishness on my part.
Sure, she enjoyed herself. But I did it for myself.
I needed to taste her, to keep myself from bucking into her right then and there like a wild animal, intent only on leaving a part of myself inside of her body. Claiming her as mine.
By the time we got back to the barracks, she was dead on her feet from worry and orgasms. Leaving me to carry her into her apartment, strip her down and dress her in her cute, innocent little pajamas and tuck her into bed. I had planned to kiss her goodnight and leave her to rest, so I didn’t encroach on her safe space too much with my presence. But as I turned to leave, she rolled over and held her hand out to me with her sleepy smile on her perfect face. “Stay with me.” She whispered, “Please.”
As if I could have denied her request.
Never mind the fact that the idea of leaving her side at all, after how I found her at the gala, felt like I was physically putting myself into a grinder and losing parts of my soul in tiny chunks.
