Layla
Fuck.I look up at the ceiling. When I peek around the corner, Sean looks freshly showered, his hair is buzzed even closer than yesterday, and he’s wearing his standard black t-shirt with his dog tags tucked in, black jeans and he’s got AirPods in. He looks like he’s in his cooking element. There’s fresh fruit, orange juice and coffee set out on the counter, and he’s scrambling eggs in a skillet on the stove. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful so early in the morning. He turns to look at me and pulls the AirPods out while I take a seat at the island.
He says nothing to me about me listening in on his phone call as he slides a glass of orange juice and a freshly poured coffee toward me, turning the handle of the mug to face me, and then follows it up with a bottle of Tylenol.
“Thanks. I think I need that this morning,” I groan, twisting open the Tylenol.
“You have to pace yourself when you come to the club,” he says as I pop the pills in my mouth and use the orange juice to swallow them down. “But I don’t hate the sound of you begging me to fuck you.” His voice is full of teasing.
I pause mid-sip, broken memories flashing behind my eyes. Me, pulling my shirt off in front of him when we got back here. Climbing into his lap on my sofa, telling him how badly I wanted him.
I threw myself at him. And he turned me down. Visions of him pushing me back flash into my mind and I cringe.“When I take this pussy for the first time, you’re going to be stone-cold sober, little dove.”
Another of him tucking me into bed. “Be a good girl, Layla, and get some sleep.”
Another of me asking him to stay. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Oh God.I begged him, alright. Begged him to stay with me.
“All coming back to you?” He smirks as he plates my breakfast, passes it to me and sets a fork and knife above it.
“Did you leave?” I ask on account of his new clothes.
“No. I had Boyd bring my bike and some clothes from my room at the club.”
“Where did you sleep?” I ask.
“Next to you,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You snore.” He smirks.Oh my God.
“Only when I’ve been drinking,” I retort.
“It was cute as fuck,” he adds, which settles me. It’s an odd sensation not to have to worry about being what he wants—that who I amiswhat he wants.
“Do you all have rooms at the club?” I change the subject from my alcohol-induced sleep habits, ignoring the fact that I was drunk enough to be completely unaware of this beast of a man in my bed.
He looks up. “Just myself, Wolfe and Jake have private rooms there, but I rarely stay. Only if there’s an emergency.”
“What kind of emergency?” I ask, taking a bite of bacon. It’s maple bacon.God that’s good.
Sean looks at me as he sits down on a stool with his ownplate. “In case of a lockdown, or if someone is hurt and we have to stay with them, things like that.”
“Lockdown?”
Sean takes a big sip of coffee. “Sometimes if we have problems with other clubs, things can get dangerous, and so it makes sense for us to stay at the club. But if that happens, the club is the safest place you can be,” he says reassuringly.
We sit and eat in silence for a beat.
“My mother used to cook us breakfast like this,” I tell him, changing the subject, taking another bite. “It’s weird having someone else cook for me.”
“What do you miss most about her?” he asks, and I look up in surprise at the question. I just didn’t expect it. The bridge of my nose stings with just the thought of her. “She was my person. The one person I had who loved me forme. But she kept secrets, and she protected my father. She was just about to break free from him when she died.” I’ve offered way more than he asked for, but it feels good to talk about her without judgment.
“Your dad was a prick, yeah?” Sean asks. “I looked into him a little more. Lots of debt. Gambling is deadly.”
“It wasn’t just that. He had a temper.”
I watch Sean’s fist flex and his jaw harden instantly. “Did he hurt you?” he growls.
I shake my head. “No, but sometimes he’d hurt my mom, and then he’d apologize. She stayed with him, she supported him. She even went to meetings for spouses of gambling addicts so she could support himbetter.She stayed because she was worried what the church would think.” I smile softly as I break a piece of bacon apart. “We had a plan though.”
