Chapter Thirty-Five

Layla

What in the hell was I thinking, blurting it out like that? He looked terrified. Actually that wasn’t true, he didn’t have time to look anything before he started grumbling to himself about nosy brothers. In fact, he hadn’t said one damn word to me since we got in his car. After a thirty- minute ride, and we’d been at his house for another thirty minutes.

In absolute fucking silence. Nothing made a rejection sting harder than cold hard silence. We were sitting on his couch and I it was done with the silent treatment. I said, “I’d like to go home now.”

I was too exhausted to hold it together and it wouldn’t be fair to cry in front of him. Home was the best option.

“Not yet.” He dropped his hand down on my thigh as he sat next to me on the sofa and squeezed it gently. “I want to talk to you,” he whispered. He sounded as exhausted as I was.

My shoulders sagged in disappointment but I wasn’t surprised. “We can do our last night tomorrow, Eamon. I’m too tired right now.”

He turned to me, a frown covering his face. “So you lied?” he said.

I blinked. “Lied? What did I lie about?”

“You said you wanted to be with me an hour ago and now you want to talk about rescheduling our last fuck?”

Oh. That. “Your silence spoke volumes, so if you’re looking for me to beg or cry and scream, I’m too tired.” And to emotionally scarred.

“I want you to tell me what you want,” he said.

I mustered a smile. “I already did. You, Eamon. I want you.” I cupped his face again, staring into his eyes. “Just. You.”

“Good, because I want you too, Layla. So fucking bad.”

He didn’t wait for my response before his lips were on mine, devouring my mouth like it was his last meal. He tasted of whiskey or maybe it was scotch, but it was spicy and rich. Strong.

“Layla,” he moaned.

He pulled back and stared at me, brushing a thumb over the bruise on my cheekbone and then trailing another finger over the bloodstain on my forehead.

“Eamon, please. Love me.”

He flashed a grin that was halfway between boyish and rakish before leaning in for another taste. “I already do.”

I wanted more details. I wanted him to say those three words, to hear his sexy timber as he grunted those words in my ear but when his tongue dipped into the hollow of my throat and when his hands cupped my breasts, I was lost.

Totally fucking lost.

“Eamon, please.”

My hands roamed over him, hungry to feel every inch of his sculpted body. I wanted to look at him, but I was too desperate to touch him and taste him, to give him the same pleasure he gave to me.

“Yes, Layla, yes.”

His hands, his mouth were everywhere, and he tore at my clothes until I was naked. Until his clothes were strewn over mine and the hair on his chest scraped against my own smooth skin.

“It’s been too fucking long,” he growled in my ear.

I agreed, but my throat wouldn’t work, not when his mouth took a nipple, licking and sucking it until I moaned out loud. He moved back and forth on my breasts, making me feel like my body and brain had been disconnected and the only thing I could do was feel.

“Too long,” he kept saying over and over.

We came together and it was fast and rough, inelegant but oh so incredible. His mouth worked magic on every inch of my skin, electrifying me everywhere he touched. It was amazing, a feeling I’d never experienced as he pumped into me. Slow and deep and hard, his gaze never left mine and every push brought us closer together. Closer to the knife’s edge of pleasure.

“Layla. Oh, Layla.”

My name came out on a low growl as one hand cupped my thigh and his deep strokes came faster. Harder.

“Eamon, I’m. So. Close.”

His smile was predatory and his gaze dark like a man on a mission. “I love watching you come, Layla and I love the way you clench around me. Hell, I just fucking love you baby.”

And dammit if that didn’t push me right over the edge into a shattering orgasm that was more like an out of body experience. If not for the look in Eamon’s eyes as he thrust, then froze and shook as his own orgasm roared through his body, I might have thought I was dreaming. Or worse, dead. But the benefit of an outer body experience was getting to see that look of love shining in his eyes even as pleasure coursed through him.

Eamon collapsed on top of me and the weight of his big, warm, ultra-masculine body was enough to send another round of shockwaves bouncing through me.

“Oh, Layla.”

“Say it again,” I urged him because I needed to hear it again and I needed to know those words weren’t spoken in lust.

He pulled back with a smile. “I am in love with you, Layla.”

My heart stuttered to a stop before it kicked into overdrive and tried to beat its way out of my chest. “That’s good because I am so in love with you too. You saved me,” I told him quietly as tears trekked down my face.

“I’ll always save you. Always protect you.”

“Always?”

“And then some, babe.”

Suddenly the night—or the morning—didn’t seem so bad.