Page 15 of Laken's longing

Fuck off.

More heat coursed up Laken’s neck, sweat forming on his brow as he waved a hand and spoke without thinking in his flustered state. “You figure out all my other needs without me having to say. Why would this be any different? And what is it with me smiling? I smile all the time.”

“Is that right?” Isley murmured huskily, taking a step closer, his cock thickening and his fruit and spice scent making it impossible to breathe easily. “Then smile at me now. Gone on.”

Laken got up feeling at a disadvantage and immediately took a step back. Why couldn’t he explain to Isley without saying what he knew he couldn’t… or wouldn’t..

“What? Why do you need me to smile?” Isley took another step. “No, no. We aren’t doing this. We work together and this isn’t a good idea.”

No good would come from this. It would change everything. Make Isley’s enquiring mind want answers that Laken could not—would not—give.

The hurt his words caused was there for Laken to see. It cut at him like a knife slicing off his skin. He was damaged. Tainted. Isley was pure of heart. He could see it in his animal. This was for the best. Cut it off before Isley got really hurt.

No, it is not for the best. You need him as much as he needs us.

He blocked his animal when he felt the truth weaken his resolve. Then Isley took the decision from him, swinging around and walking off into his bedroom. The door clicking shut was the only sound in the suite as Laken’s eyes closed. He dragged in ragged, uneven breaths, trying to gain a semblance of restraint to stop himself following that bouncy, naked ass and giving them both what they wanted.

I don’t want this.

It took longer than it should have before he turned and went into his own bedroom and shut the door. Stripping, he headedstraight for the shower to rid himself of Isley’s scent. It was the only way.

You can’t, he’s ours now.

He can’t ever be ours and you know why.

Laken strode through the Starling building, waving at the security guards as he passed them, giving curt nods but not stopping to talk. He wasn’t going to explain why he was there at eleven at night. His shoulders ached from the hours he had spent, tension building, while attempting to act normal around Isley as they’d worked on refining the contract.

Louis had shown up at the hotel, giving Laken the cold shoulder, which was for the best. They had completed the deal and signed the contract with little conversation. Laken and Isley had left the hotel shortly after and the flight had, though uneventful, had still been difficult. Laken couldn’t concentrate for shit and he’d ended up insisting that Isley use the cabin with the bed two hours into the flight. He had dark smudges under his eyes much like Laken, and as much as he wanted to say—do—something to remove the tense atmosphere between them, he didn’t know how without giving false hope.

The time change and how cold Isley had been towards him after he’d come back into the cabin looking adorably sleepy-eyed had him matching his coldness. Right now, he wasn’t fit for human consumption, despite the late hour. Someone was always up at home with Emmy recently, teething causing her to sleep fitfully. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation or brotherly jibes.

His mind was a fucking mess with what he wanted and how that wasn’t conceivable. Work had always been his savior, so here he was, coming to hide out in the only safe space left to him. Hiding from those living their lives and taking what they wanted when he couldn’t.

He also had the excuse that he needed to work after a futile day of trying to go through the seemingly never-ending list of things that needed his attention with Isley smelling like a little piece of heaven—more commonly known as Popi’s cinnamon rolls. Those delightful rolls Popi had made for his first breakfast in their home. They were the start of feelings of being treasured. Loved. Popi put his love into his food. He baked to express that love with the care and attention he put into each special dish he made especially for each of his children. Laken had come to understand this and found it in those rolls.

Isley was his cinnamon roll.Fuck it all.

His animal was silent, his presence reassuring despite their discord right now.

The building was quiet but for the hum of lights he flicked on as he walked down corridors to get to his office. Passing his secretary’s desk, he noted the pile of post sitting on a tray. He sighed and scooped it up, noticing the top envelope. He frowned, lines appearing between his brows as he looked at the stamped urgent mark in bold red and then glanced at the handwritten ‘for Laken’s eyes only’.

How odd.

He tucked it under his arm and continued into his office. Turning the light on, he moved to his desk to take his seat and placed the pile down. He reached for the plain brown envelope but the second his fingers brushed the bulky paper, an icy chill ran down his spine. The urge to draw back his hand had him pause, a sense of impending doom unfurling inside him like a large, winged bird about to take off.

Don’t open it,his wolf demanded,throw it away.

Despite not being able to shake the feeling his wolf was right, his fingers trembled as he slipped a nail under the seal and peeled open the envelope, tipping the contents on top of the other post. His indrawn breath was loud enough to fill the silence as he stared at a grainy photo that was recognizably him.

He twisted sideways where the trash can sat, and heaved as bile burned his throat as the meal he’d eaten three hours earlier made a reappearance. He coughed violently, his stomach lurching and squeezing his intestine, doing what it could to purge his body of what his eyes had seen. Tears streamed down his cheeks while he shook from the violent tremors, grasping the metal trash can tightly while his world came apart. His past suddenly collided with his present in a way he couldn’t escape from. A part of him had always known his past would one day ruin him, and here it was in that black and white photo, proving him right.

There was a moment of blessed release that he hadn’t tainted Isley by giving in to his needs. He would never have forgiven himself for that. It didn’t stop the terror of Isley seeing him differently. The fear at what was to come when his family saw. It took hold of him and held him in its vicious grip as his body worked to purge something it couldn’t; what had happened that fateful night he’d been beaten, drugged and used like the whore he was.

Chapter Seven

Lane

“I’m worried about Laken,” Lane said, glancing over his shoulder at his husband lounging on the bed. Naked from the chest up, he revealed a solid muscular body, sexy silver chest hair and tattooed skin. A rumpled navy sheet was pulled over his groin but exposed one muscular thigh. The icy blue eyes were hooded and in their depth was the warmth of love and lust as he watched Lane cream his skin after his shower.