CHAPTER TEN
Layla
We are both fairly drunk when we stumble out of the restaurant. We grab desperately at each other’s arms to steady ourselves on the slippery sidewalk, each unable to stifle our elation. Nico’s deep laugh reverberates down the snow-brightened street, echoing off the brick apartment buildings and fire escapes. We might be drunken fools, but we’re fools together, and the night couldn’t be going any better.
“So, where to, NYU?” Nico says, tucking an arm around my waist as we start in the general direction of Lafayette.
The snow is falling harder now, covering downtown Manhattan in a magical layer of quiet and white. Even the rumble of the subway beneath us is muted. Despite the fact that there are still people on the street, it suddenly feels like we are the only two people in a city of millions.
“That depends,” I say as I lean more into the crook of his big shoulder. I’ve been dying for this kind of contact all night. Actually, for two weeks. “On what you’re interested in doing.”
I’m not intending to be suggestive, and so I blush when he winks at my comment.
“Oh jeez, men are such perverts,” I say, elbowing him softly in the side. “All I meant was what you wanted to drink. We are out drinking, aren’t we?”
“Sure, sure, sweetie. Whatever you say, NYU.”
“Why don’t you ever call me by my name?” I ask suddenly, breaking away to look at him. We’re standing under a lamppost on a corner, and I watch as the snowflakes create a bright halo behind his head, falling on his broad shoulders and atop his beanie. “It’s always ‘NYU’ or ‘sweetie’ or something with you. Never my name. Are you afraid of it or something?”
He raises one mischievous eyebrow and pulls me a little closer so I can see his full expression. He has dimples; I can’t believe I didn’t notice them before.
“But you are sweet, Layla. It fits.”
“I’m not so sweet.”
I lay a hand on his chest as if to push him away. He glances down at it and back up to me, his gaze resting on my lips before returning to my eyes.
“Oh, I bet you are,” he says.
He sticks his hand in between his teeth to pull off one glove, then the other, which he shoves in his pocket. A lightly calloused fingertip traces my cheekbone, dropping down my nose and over my lips. Suddenly, I can’t breathe.
“Do you want me to kiss you, Layla?”
Nico’s deep voice reverberates through the quiet of the snow, and my own voice deserts me completely, leaving me only to nod, dumbfounded. He drifts his thumb over my lips.
“You sure you want a man like me?”
His voice dares me to say yes while he frames my chin and cheeks with both hands.
I should probably say no. He’s too old for me. Too poor. Too uneducated. Too dangerous. But right now, none of that means a thing. It doesn’t matter that this is a bad idea.
“I’m sure,” I whisper. I don’t know if he heard me, but it’s all I was able to get out. I’m sure.
“You have a snowflake here,” he says, and leans down to kiss my upper lip. He hums. “You see? I was right. So very sweet.”
He dips his head again while cupping the back of mine, then slowly teases my mouth open. And Christ, does he taste better than I ever thought he could.
I angle my face, allowing him to run his tongue lightly over my bottom lip before he slips it inside my mouth. A pang of desire shoots down my spine when he sucks my lip between his teeth. I welcome his invitation to come even closer when he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me firmly against his body. Gently, the hands at my chin tip my face to the side so he can deepen the kiss even more.
The snow-flurried lights around me spin, and not just in that too-much-wine kind of way. This is what I have been waiting for. Not just for the last two weeks. I have been waiting for this kiss my entire fucking life. Every kiss I’ve experienced before now was child’s play, the tentative, floundering advances of teenage boys and not-yet men. There should be another word for this kind of kiss. Something that conveys the way the Earth tilts a little when his lips are on mine, the way the sky changes color a little when our tongues coil together. Nothing comes close to this man’s mouth. Nothing.
A small moan escapes when I come up for air, and I’m pleased to find Nico’s breathing is on the rough side too.
“My roommates are out for the night,” I mumble into his lips, barely managing to get out the words before he devours me all over again. At this rate, I won’t be able to make it home by myself anyway. His lips are soft, his tongue is firm, and his insistence with both of them makes it hard to think at all.
“Oh yeah?” he purrs, gently pulling my hair back to nip over my neck and behind my ear. The wet imprints of his lips chill in the wind, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin and make me forget completely that we are standing in the middle of a relatively crowded street, probably attracting a number of curious looks from passersby. “They won’t be back at all?”
“No, not until late,” I slur, leaning back to make my neck more available to his advances. “They won’t mind if you’re there, either. But we’ll have some privacy. Mmm, that feels good.”
He returns to my mouth, and his hands reach gingerly under the confines of my unbuttoned jacket, sliding cautiously over my ass. He squeezes lightly—he wants more, and so do I.
“I’d be all right with that,” he murmurs against my lips.
It takes another thirty seconds of him sucking on my lower lip before I can answer. When I do, my voice is hoarse, but urgent.
“Let’s go.”
~
Nico
We practically sprint back to her dorm, stopping here and there when I can’t fuckin’ take it anymore and have to kiss her against a dark wall or on an empty street corner. I can’t explain it. Something happened. All that electricity that’s been building for the last two weeks finally sparked, and now it’s full-fledged fire. It’s like now I can’t stand more than six inches between us at all times, and if I don’t get another taste every few seconds, I’ll stop breathing. In the space of a few minutes, Layla went from sweet to essential.
I really am completely fucked.
Somehow, when I don’t have my tongue down her throat or my hands on her ass, we get back to her building. Layla sobers a little and touches her hair, but lets me keep her other hand firmly in mine. If she thinks I’m letting her go now, she’s crazy.
I glance around curiously as we stop at the security desk. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a college dorm. During the year and a half I spent at CUNY, I lived at home, although I did visit a few friends at NYU and Fordham. I forgot how busy they are. Even at eleven o’clock at night, the lobby is bumping with the chatter of students, most of them looking readier to go out than stay in.
I smirk as I hand my ID to the security guard, and he copies the information with a bored look. All the better if everyone is out for the night. If I have my way, Layla’s going to be making a lot of noise.
Once we’re let through, I recapture Layla’s hand while she leads me to the elevator banks. A few of the students wave at her, and I notice more than one frat-looking dude looking her up and down, and then at me with a little annoyance. I scowl. I know these guys. They’ll grow up to become the next generation of Wall Street assholes, like the ones at the club last weekend. Scumbags who will trade people’s lives away for some extra coin. They see Layla as a commodity, not the special, luminous person she is.
I grip her hand harder, and she leans on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” she murmurs into my ear. “We’re almost there.”
She trembles when I grin at her. It’s a good thing she seems to like my smile, because I seriously can’t stop around her.
“Hey, Layla.”
A gawky kid who looks about six inches too tall for his shirt gives Layla a wave and looks me up and down curiously as we all enter the elevator. I glare. Christ, this girl really turns me into an animal. I’m almost afraid of what I’m going to be like once we’re finally alone together.
“Oh, hey, Vin,” Layla says. She tugs on my arm, urging me to look at the kid. “Nico, this is my friend, Vinny. We’ve known each other since we first started at NYU.”
I give the kid another look, but now I can tell by the way he’s glancing between me and Layla that he’s not interested in her––just looking out. I relax. Preppy shitheads with too much entitlement? They can fuck the hell off, and I’m happy to help them do it. Scrawny guy down the hall watching her back? Him I can deal with.
“Hey, man, nice to meet you,” I say, holding out my hand.
Vinny accepts, still looking at me like he’s afraid I’m going to kill him. Is it fucked up I kind of like it? Is it fucked up that I kind of want this kid to put the word out about Layla’s new thug boyfriend, just so those other pricks will lay off?
Whoa. Boyfriend?
“Good to meet you too,” Vinny says, interrupting me from my sudden panic.
The doors open, and we follow him into a hall that’s lined with doors, a lot of them decorated with pictures, magazine cutouts, whiteboards scribbled with notes. The exact opposite of my building’s sober halls.
“Have a good night, you two,” Vinny says with a wink at Layla, although not until I’m well out of swinging arm’s distance.
His lanky form bounds away, and I have to smile a little. He kind of reminds me of Gabe, all arms and legs, not quite grown into his body. I hope he’s a good friend to Layla.
“This is me,” Layla says as she stops in front of one of the doors.
She unlocks it, then turns around and pauses, biting her lip a little. Those big blue eyes flicker up at me, and suddenly her awkward friend is the last thing on my mind. She bites her lip. I rock a little closer.
“It’s, um, small,” she says as I close the gap between us.
I prop my hand on the door, right beside her head. Slowly, I run my nose down her cheek, enjoying the way her inhale sharpens and her fingernails claw at the door.
“Did you change your mind?” I ask, even though suddenly I’m terrified she has. I’ll stop if she wants. I have the sneaking feeling I’d do anything this girl wanted. But I really, really don’t want to.
And thank fuck, she shakes her head.
“N-no,” she breathes as her hands grasp at my belt buckle. “I just––”
Before she can speak again, I crash my lips against hers, effectively shutting off any worries she might have about whether or not I want to be here. She’s surprised at first, but after a second returns the kiss whole-heartedly––and I mean really gives as good as she gets. Suddenly, her arms are wrapped around my neck, and she’s got a leg slung up on my hip so she’s grinding against me in a way that shoots pretty much every conscious thought I have straight to my cock. My hands find her ass and lift her up against the door, and before I know it, I’m about two seconds from yanking down her jeans and taking her right here in the hallway.
A door slams. Layla freezes, then squirms until her feet are back on the carpet.
“I-um-I––”
Christ, she’s cute when she’s flustered. Her nose is pink, and her eyes are brighter than normal. I just grin and try to adjust my pants as subtly as I can. It’s not easy. She’s got me hard as a rock.
“Layla?” I say, stopping her stuttering.
She blinks. “What?”
“Open the door. Right the fuck now.” I cock my head. “Please.”
~