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No, the best thing I could do would be to walk away, but I can’t. Not yet at least.
Lyla is so good—so clean. I want to touch it, breathe it in—if only for a little bit longer. It appears that I can be every inch the bastard I accused my brother of being. Maybe it’s in the blood.
She must feel my gaze on her even through her sleep because she slowly opens her eyes, surprise filling her face as she focuses in on me. Slowly, her sweet as candy lips spread into a smile.
She smiles because she sees me.
It’s further evidence that I’m a bastard, but the joy that brings me is hard to deny.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Thomas.” She whispers my name like it’s a wish. It makes me ache. How can a man not want to be around someone who makes him feel alive? A woman who makes him feel like he matters. It’s intoxicating, especially after feeling like nothing but shit for weeks. If I’m being honest, it’s been years.
“I have food.”
She sits up in bed, the cover falling down to her hips. She stretches, and my shirt she’s wearing moves with her, caressing her full breasts. Her hair is mussed up, and she has no makeup on. I doubt she could look any better. She’s perfection.
“I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” she says sheepishly.
I go retrieve the breakfast platter I bought at the Exxon station across the road along with an orange juice and some doughnuts. Her eyes go round.
“That’s a lot of food. I hope you’re going to eat.”
“Not big on b-breakfast,” I explain, grabbing a doughnut and making a small motion with it. For some reason, that makes her face light up.
“Just sweets,” she chides.
“Well, you are sweet,” I allow.
I see surprise on her face. It wouldn’t shock me if it isn’t mirrored on my face. I didn’t mean to tell her that. She goes up on her knees and crawls across the bed to where I’m standing. She motions me with a come-hither motion of her fingers, and I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. I know better. I’m playing with fire. Still, like a moth drawn to a damn flame, I find myself bending down. She wraps her arms around my neck, her body pinned against mine, and she kisses me. A stronger man would resist her allure. He would absolutely resist her kiss. I do neither. I kiss her like a man drowning, and maybe I am.
Drowning in her.
“What are you doing today?” she asks when we finally stop kissing.
Her question surprises me, considering my hand is covering her breast. Right now, the only thing I can think about doing is her—a thought I don’t need to be having. I’m playing with fire, but I absolutely can’t have sex with Lyla. She deserves better than a man who only came over to talk to her because he thought the woman that he wanted followed him.
God, I’ve been such a fool over Gabby for so fucking long, and the truth of that burns bitter in my belly.
I clear my throat and step back just a little. I can’t allow myself to hurt Lyla. She deserves everything good in this world. She sure as fuck doesn’t deserve the mess that I am—no one deserves that.
“I n-need to go back to Kentucky and do some work, I guess,” I answer.
“Oh…” she responds. It’s clear that my answer disappoints her.
“D-Did you have something else in mind?”
“No,” she says, but hell, I’m clueless when it comes to women, and even I can tell she had her heart set on something.
“Tell me.”
“I’m fine, Thomas. I just… I kind of wanted to spend the day with you.”
I can’t remember a time when someone made me feel important. That sounds like I’m whining, but I’m not. I was the middle child, and I kind of just went along with what everyone else planned. As I got older, I was always tagging along with Dom or watching over Kayden. I think that’s how I have lived my life and never questioned it until recently. Lyla makes me feel like I matter—like I don’t lack a damn thing. When I look at her face, I know I want to give her whatever she wants.
She deserves that.
“Have you ever been to Kingdom Come in Cumberland, Kentucky?” I ask.
“No,” she answers, studying me. “Dad doesn’t like to visit Kentucky much. What is it? A church?”
I shake my head, smiling. “Nah, it’s a park. H-hiking trails, pa-paddle boats, that kind of thing.”
“That sounds like fun,” she says, her eyes sparkling.
“Then, I’ll play h-hooky, and we will go together.”
“You won’t get into trouble?” she asks. I’m positive I’m going to get shit, but I don’t really give a fuck. Spending the day with Lyla is important to her, however. I find I want to give her what she wants. So, I’m going to.
