“Want to tell me what happened?”
“A customer got fresh with me and I put him in his place. Theresa didn’t like it, so she canned my ass.”
“How fresh?” Luke scowled, though it wasn’t at Layla.
“Shoving a tip down my cleavage and stroking my nipple fresh.” Layla growled, her fury and heat rising all over again at the memory. “And then insinuating that I should be his hooker for him and all his dick friends tonight. I shoved his money in his mouth and his disgusting ass back in his seat. Theresa didn’t like it – landlord’s son – so she fired me.”
“Fucking asshole, and Theresa too.” Luke growled it like junkyard dog, his emerald eyes flashing furiously as he looked over. “You want to go back there? Because if you want, I canreallymake a scene.”
Something about it struck Layla; how willing Luke was to fight for her. Even though they hadn’t been together for a while, even though their relationship had been brief and disastrous – after all of it, he was still her friend. He still wanted what was best for her, and it struck Layla in a way she hadn’t felt for a long time. Sliding a hand out to where his rested on his thigh as he drove, she twined her fingers in his. Luke glanced down at it, his eyebrows lifted in amazement as he glanced over.
“Just take me home,” Layla murmured.
His eyes caught hers in the city’s lights, vivid and emerald. They weren’t aqua, and they didn’t sear with gold, but they were piercing in their own way. Luke watched her a long moment; as long as he could before navigating another turn. By the time they pulled up to the curb at the stout 1930’s craftsman house, Layla could feel heat rising between them – an energy that had always been there, dormant.
Dormant no longer. Layla had no doubts as they walked up the sidewalk and away from the line of parked cars as Luke beeped his clicker. There were no words; nothing to be said as they mounted the porch-steps of the house. As Luke glanced over, something fierce and hot in his eyes, Layla felt her wrist sear. Glancing down, she saw the hamsa-mark standing out in vivid detail on her inner arm; positively bloody.
They moved inside without any words. Shutting the door, the Gaelic door-harp chimed but there were no answering calls from inside the house. The old home had that vacant creaking sound; the sound of no one around.
“They went out.” Luke glanced at Layla in explanation as he kicked off his shoes.
“Makes sense. It’s Saturday.”
Layla couldn’t think of anything else to say. Luke watched her, something in his gaze so possessive and fierce that it took Layla’s breath away. Turning, she moved toward the stairs, heat flooding her as she debated what to do with it. She felt him follow, and when they reached the top landing, she moved toward her bedroom and he came also, leaning in the doorframe as she kicked off her black heels. Watching her, he simmered, but not with anger – his hot green eyes pinned to her every movement.
“Do you want to be alone?” He murmured, watching her take off her gold hoop earrings.
“No.” Layla set her earrings down on her bureau. She could feel passion blazing between them. So hot – hotter than she could ever remember. Sex with Luke had always been good, but this was another level of tension between them; something so thick and alluring that Layla could have cut it like butter. A slow heat pulsed through her entire body; the pain of her wrist was dim now compared to the heat coursing between them, though they stood a good five feet from each other.
It didn’t stay that way. Luke moved into her room, slowly closing the door behind him. Pinning her with his eyes, undressing her with his hot emerald orbs, he stepped close. Sliding his hands up Layla’s arms, he made her shiver with need. Looking up into his eyes, Layla felt an answering heat course through him.
“What are we doing?” Layla spoke softly as she lifted her lips, knowing it was wrong but unable to stop. Heat roared through her now, so close.
“Whatever we want.” Luke murmured, his soft lips descending. They were so close to touching now, Layla feeling the heat of his breath on her tongue like warm candy. He slid his hands up her arms and Layla let out a shuddering exhalation. Stepping in like a magnet pulled her to him, she felt his hands slip down from her arms to her waist; drawing her close to his hard, lean body.
“What if we blow it all up again?” Layla sighed at his lips, needing him, needing this heat and passion pounding inside her to be released.
“Then we blow it up again,” he murmured, moving his lips over hers in a scintillating play.
“What if I can’t blow it up again?” She swallowed, a deep fear moving in her even though her passions roared – to kiss him already and be damned where it led them.
“Shh…” He breathed at her lips. “We’ll figure it out…”
And then they were kissing, soft and deep and slow. And then it wasn’t slow anymore, heat surging up through Layla’s body and roaring into her mouth, pouring into their kiss. With a hard sound in his throat, Luke responded, passion suddenly roaring between them. Hauling her up with strong hands under her thighs, he threw her to the bed. His emerald gaze was like a demon as he came for her, breathing hard, stripping his forest green t-shirt up off over his head and baring all that incredible musculature. But now Layla could touch and she did, sliding one hand up his chest to corral him behind his neck as she slid one hand down the lean ridges of his viciously sculpted abdomen – delving beneath the waistband of his jeans.
He gasped as she slid in, taking his thick hardness firmly in hand. His eyes were blistering like forge-fire as he fell upon her, kissing her in a wrath of passion. They didn’t have time for foreplay; clothes were suddenly being cast away in a heady wash of abandonment the likes of which Layla hadn’t felt around Luke in a long time. She barely had time to wonder at it as she felt something roar inside her, needing sex, needing heat – and right now, anyone would do.
They fell to the bed, writhing and bucking as they kissed hard, hands everywhere. With a gasp, Luke came up for air; flailing out, he opened the drawer of the bedside table, the place where he knew Layla still kept her condoms. Seizing one, he dove back in, kissing her hard, moving to her neck now and growling into her throat as his hands quickly rolled the condom in place. Hauling Layla closer to him by the hips, he bent his neck, his lips finding her nipple and sucking her hard. Layla gasped, bucking beneath him, caught by his hands and his mouth, screaming with passion as a fire she didn’t understand ripped through her body.
She and Luke had always been passionate, but this was something new. This was something that growled up from inside her, spilling from her lips in a needful scream as Luke came back up, positioning himself. And when he thrust deep inside her and pinned her mouth with his kiss at the same time, Layla screamed an animal roar into his mouth as heat careened through her like a bonfire.
She was scorching with heat as Luke fucked her, hard and fast; and as she fucked him back. Locking her hands around his neck, she caught him, and he made a sound as he fucked her harder, making her feel every inch of him thrusting deep. Layla was deliciously wet from the furious, animalistic passion careening through her, and she saw it echoed in Luke’s burning green eyes. He was so thick, so deep, that Layla was already cresting. His breath was fast, his eyes wild, and she felt him striving deeper, for that place only their wildest abandonment could reach.
It did.
As Layla spilled over into orgasm, a heady scream ripping from her mouth, Luke gasped and roared out also, shuddering and gripping her hard as he came. It was as if something inside Layla drank him down as he orgasmed, and Luke cried out, an amazed look taking his face as some kind of enormous heat expanded out from them both with a fierce wash of bourbon-orange scent like Layla’s pores were suddenly breathing bar-fumes.
And then, whatever it was roared away, leaving them spent.
