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I’m not willing to let this go. Not now, and maybe not ever.
If I tell her this, I may scare her off. I’m not willing to chance that yet. Instead, I move my body until I’m lying on top of her, and then my mouth meets hers.
I kiss her softly at first. Sweet kisses that tell her without words how I feel about her.
As our lips touch, all the things I’m not ready to say pass between us. Slowly, I let my body speak the rest of my devotion to her.
Worshipping her body.
Each thrust of my hips saying she’s everything.
Grabbing her, pulling her toward me, and as we both fall apart, I can’t stop burying myself into her neck and whispering, “You belong to me.”
Trusting she will never know that everything I’ve had to do is for this moment with her.
* * *
The next morning, I wake up to an empty bed. Reaching my arm out, I find that Layla’s side is cold.
Usually, I’m such a light sleeper. Strange that she was able to get up and I didn’t even stir. I had zero clue she’s been gone, most likely for an hour or more.
Occupational hazard, working with clients in all different time zones, I wake at every sound. My childhood taught me to always be on edge, and it’s worked well in later years.
But here with Layla, I find myself able to relax for the first time in my life. A peace I never thought I would experience, let alone with a woman.
I stand from the bed and make my way into the bathroom to brush my teeth and do my morning routine and dress for the day.
Then I go in search of Layla.
Walking from room to room, I find her in the small, little office that faces the beach. She’s sitting behind the desk, and her laptop is out.
“No working,” I chide as I step inside, and she closes it the moment she sees me.
“I’m not working on anything for work.”
I lift one eyebrow. She’s lying.
She stands abruptly. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Looking toward the window, I notice the sky is gray. “Where do you want to go?”
“Down the beach?”
“It looks like it might rain, Layla.”
“A little rain has never killed anyone, Cain,” she chides playfully.
“As far as you know. Fine. If you don’t mind the rain . . .”
She shakes her head. “Growing up, I always loved the rain.”
Opening the door, together, we walk out onto the patio and then out toward the beach.
“I didn’t.”
I don’t explain to her what I mean. There’s no need with Layla.
Now standing in front of the water, I stop. Neither of us is wearing shoes, and the sand is damp beneath our feet. We are close enough to the ocean that we could get wet with the next wave.
I turn to face Layla, and her lips part into a smile. “Why can I already see that about you?”
“Maybe, just maybe, you see the real me.”
And it’s true. No one has ever understood me the way Layla does. There is no need for words with her. She can see the pain that lives inside me, and her own pain gravitates toward it. We are twin souls.
I might hide my monsters from her, and every once in a while, they find their way out, but deep down, I know she would accept me, even if she saw them.
“I hope I do get to see you,” she whispers softly.
Reaching my hand out, I trail my fingers up her chin, tilting her head up so that our gaze can meet. “You do. Trust me. What you see is one hundred percent real.”
“Everyone has secrets.”
“That is true.” I nod. “And yes, I have them, too, but that’s not what I mean.”
Her jaw trembles beneath my touch. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t breathe when you’re away from me.” Her crystal-clear blue eyes are locked on me. They look glassy like my words might make her cry.
“Thank you.” She goes up on her tiptoes and places her mouth on mine. I part my lips and so does she, then I skate my tongue against hers. The kiss ends as fast as it begins.
“What was that for?” I ask against her lips.
“Letting me in.”
“I can’t promise—”
Her finger presses against my lips, silencing me. “It’s okay, I understand, but what you show me is enough.”
“And what’s that?”
Then her hand is no longer on my face, and it’s resting on my chest over my heart. “That beneath this exterior there’s a heart.”
“And it beats only for you.”
As I hold her in my arms, safe and warm, I can feel the familiar feeling of rain striking down from above.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The winds start to pick up. Layla’s blond hair whips around her face. She looks beautiful. Natural. At peace.
She looks happy.
And I know it’s because of me.
