Chapter Fifteen

Layla

The sliver of light peeking through heavy dark curtains sliced right across my eye and pulled me from the warm comfort of a peaceful sleep. Wait, curtains? I didn’t have curtains in my apartment and my bed was nowhere near this comfortable. Sitting up quickly, I scanned the room with dark, clearly masculine furnishings. Deep navy blue with touches of gold were everywhere and then I remembered.

Eamon.

Last night with him had been incredible. If the first night had been good, and it had, the second night had been a revelation. Who knew the human body was capable of such endless pleasure? Who knew there were men out there so wholly dedicated to getting a woman off, to making her pleasure his first priority? In my short time on this earth and my brief but mostly unsatisfying encounters with the opposite sex, I would have said not one man on this planet was capable of such a feat. But Eamon had proven me wrong.

Not only was he insatiable and dirty as fuck, but he brought the same out of me. I looked to the side of the bed where the navy blue and gold comforter hung half off the bed and my skin heated up at the memory of the way Eamon fucked my mouth. I would have been scandalized had it been any of my past lovers. But even now, with flashes of it playing in my mind, I wanted to do it again. Giving over that power while still maintaining all of the control was a heady experience, but it was more than that.

The way he’d come undone, the dark look in his eyes as he pumped in and out of my mouth saying the most wickedly nasty things to me made me feel like some kind of sex goddess. The way I ground my pussy against his mouth, begging him to taste more of me, to lap up my juices, was so unlike me, I had to relive the moment to make sure I hadn’t dreamed it up.

And I hadn’t imagined one iota of last night’s encounter. It was all real and replaying in my mind like reruns on Netflix. But the small voice in my mind reminded me that it was morning now. Last night was over and it was time for the walk of shame even though shame was the last thing I felt.

I felt way too many things for a woman who’d had a two-night stand with a gangster who was paying me to fuck him. Talking with Eamon last night had been a mistake. Learning so much about him made him seem human, almost likeable. And goddammit when he flashed his smile, he was as breathtaking as any runway model.

I shouldn’t have asked those questions and I definitely shouldn’t have remembered the answers or let my fascination with mob movies get the better of me. This wasn’t some crazy love story where I’d see through the layers of bad boy to get a glimpse of the good man underneath. There probably wasn’t a good man underneath. Even if there was, he wouldn’t allow me to see it. To him I was no more than a whore. For a debt that wasn’t even mine.

And that was fine. Just fine. Totally fucking fine.

I turned and slid to the edge of the bed where I caught a glimpse of my underwear mingled with his discarded clothes. The silky red panties were a torn, wet mess that I couldn’t wear again so I balled them in my hand and picked up the bra that still held indents of the way Eamon had sucked me through the fabric.

God, that man had a mouth made for doing dirty things. Just a flick of his tongue and I was a weak little fool who imagined there was a real man underneath the gangster. But I kept telling myself there wasn’t.

If life hadn’t taught me that men were not who they appeared to be, recent revelations about my father had. So I straightened my spine and balled the bra up with the panties and slowly crept toward the front door where I was sure I’d find my dress. The house was silent and since the bed beside me had been ice cold when I checked, I assumed Eamon had gotten up and slept elsewhere last night.

I knew I should have gone home.

Sex-only relationships did not include sleepovers and especially not when this wasn’t even a sex-only relationship but a transactional one. I spotted my dress near the door and tiptoed over to it, hoping to avoid waking Eamon if he wasn’t already awake taking care of mob business.

“Going somewhere?”

His deep voice scared the fuck out of me. I yelped and turned with a glare. “Why are you sneaking around your own house?”

Eamon leaned against the wall looking as good this morning in black silk pajama pants and black tank that showed off miles of muscle and the ink on his arms as he had last night in nothing at all. Only now, he also wore the smug smirk of a man who knew he’d put it down last night. All night.

“The better question is why you’re sneaking around my house. Isn’t it?”

Feeling defensive and naked because I hadn’t quite made it to my dress yet, I crossed my arms.

“I wasn’t sneaking, I was trying to leave without disturbing you.” And if I was being honest with myself, avoiding a repeat of the previous night’s farewell.

“I’ve been awake for a few hours.”

No doubt because there was a stranger asleep in his bed.

“I should’ve gone home last night,” I said.

That one sentence settled in my gut like a lead brick. I should have gone home last night so he could go to sleep in his bed. I should have gone home last night to keep my head clear.

“I wanted you here.”

And I took that to mean that now he wanted me gone.

With a nod, I inched toward the dress, feeling more and more naked the longer his gaze caressed my now overheated skin.

“Okay, well,” I said awkwardly. “I should be …”

“Come on,” he said, waving toward the kitchen. “I made breakfast.”

“Uhm, what? More food? You know I wasn’t angling for an invite.”

He smirked but it wasn’t that smug smirk that had the ability to make me feel about two inches tall. No this was an amused crinkle around his eyes. “I know that. And you need to eat. Stay healthy.”

Without another word, Eamon pushed off the wall and turned to give me a glorious view of his silk covered ass and wide, muscular back. The back of a man, solid and strong. Capable. The narrow waist revealed that he wasn’t just in shape, but damn good shape and though they were covered now by silk pants, I knew those legs were powerfully lean. His body was as lethal as any gun, a fact I’d seen up close and personal.

I looked over at the dress still on the floor where I’d kicked it aside and then over at the empty wall where Eamon had been leaning. Staying for breakfast was dumb. It was something a girl did who was expecting more. One-nighters didn’t cook breakfast, they didn’t even take you out for breakfast afterwards, that wasn’t the nature of a one-night stand. Staying would cause more trouble than I was prepared to deal with at the moment.

Then my stomach growled and decided for me.

“Food’s getting cold!” he said.

I doubled back to the bedroom, grabbed the discarded t-shirt on top of his jeans and slipped it over my shoulders, grateful it was no longer covered in the warmth of his body because the scent was overwhelming. Leather and sandalwood with a hint of badass and maybe even a little gun residue, whatever that smelled like, for an aroma that was unmistakably Eamon.

“Smells good in here,” I said when I arrived in the kitchen. And it did. The scent of coffee hit me first but there was also bacon, and cheese potatoes, and a beautiful fruit salad on the table.

“I hope you’re hungry.” He said the words without turning around, which I appreciated.

“Kinda, we never finished eating last night. Got too busy fuckin’. Gotta keep up my girlish figure anyway, ya know?” I smiled.

I tried to eat healthy and attend a yoga or aerobics class when I felt up to it. I’d accepted my curves a long time ago and knew wanting something different was pointless. There were enough problems in my life trying to take me down, I didn’t want to add my appearance to the pot.

“Your figure seems to be all right to me.”

Eamon wasn’t a man who uttered meaningless compliments, which made the compliment all the more meaningful. “Thanks, but I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”

“Good because I wasn’t giving you a compliment to make you feel better. Just stating a fact.”

Right. “Okay then. Thanks.” He nodded a little and I dug into the frittata that overflowed with bacon and potatoes. “This is good, thank you. Why didn’t you just heat up the leftovers from last night?”

His gaze seared through me with the efficiency of a laser beam, surprise warring with something else, suspicion maybe? And it was that last one that reminded me of where I was, who I was with and why.

“Didn’t want to and you’re welcome,” he said with a seriousness I couldn’t fathom.

We ate, maintaining the world’s most awkward silence, which only made me eat faster. Like a pig at a trough, I shoveled the food into my mouth until my plate was empty. I may not have been the smartest chick in the world, but I could take a hint.

“That was delicious, thank you. Want some help cleaning up?”

I didn’t want to stay, but it was the least I could do, after the amazing breakfast he’d made. It was much better than the toasted bagel with peanut butter I usually had for breakfast.

“I have people who take care of that, Layla.”

There he was, the smug asshole Eamon who would make it easier to leave.

“Right. Of course. Okay, then. Bye.”

This time I practically ran from the kitchen, stopping only to grab my shoes from the bedroom and quickly dressing one foot from his front door. With my underwear balled up in my purse, I felt more like a streetwalker than I ever had in my entire life.

“The limo is waiting for you out front.”

I looked up in search of the man who belonged to the voice but he was already gone, vanished into the depths of the house. I shouldn’t have been surprised and once I thought about it, I wasn’t surprised. Eamon was an asshole who did whatever he wanted, no matter who got hurt. A few well-spoken words and good food wouldn’t change that.