My hands fall from his chest and are replaced by my forehead. He’s right. It’s a terrible idea, but man, my whole body screams for him. Wants to do it again.
“Fuck,” he curses softly, and he shuffles back on the bed. His gaze burns on the crown of my head, but I don’t dare to look up.
What in the hell came over me? First, I tell him to shut up about loving me, only to throw myself at him. Tentatively, I look up into that slate-gray gaze of his, so familiar and with so much emotion in it that I don’t know where to begin. My heart squeezes painfully at the thought of how familiar this feels. I cringe and stare at the mattress beneath me.
Suddenly a sigh’s audible and Kyler shuffles back toward me. His arms slide around my waist, but he doesn’t break the silence between us. I look up at him and because of my movement, his lips are suddenly a hair’s breadth away from mine. I brush past them, then press my mouth against his softly.
“What if he’d hit us?” I ask with my lips against his.
“He didn’t,” he says before he lets me go and slides away again. “Layne, maybe—”
I put my hand on the back of his neck and pull him to me. “I didn’t drink and I’m not upset either.”
“You are,” is his down-to-earth comment. “You barricaded the goddamn door.”
He makes a good point, but I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear that I’m upset about what happened. I don’t want to hear that my husband’s only been dead for three months. I don’t want to hear that I chose Connor back then. I don’t want to hear that I let Kyler go.
“I know damn well what I do and don’t want.” I squeeze my eyes shut and run both my hands through my black hair. The point is, being hit would’ve changed everything.
Frustrated, I turn away from him. How do I explain to him what I mean? My whole body seems to be a churning volcano of emotions, and the only thing that gives me peace is him. Just him. Exactly as it’s always been. Exactly what he’s always done for me.
“Layne, you left me. The only reason you’re here is because the club can protect you.” This time, he throws his legs over the edge of the bed and sits up. “I just can’t—” He cuts off his sentence.
Damn.
“You can’t, what?” I turn toward him again, sit behind him, and put my arms around his waist.
“Do you want to know the truth?” His gaze is fixed on the floor. “The truth is, I gave my heart away a long time ago, Layne.”
My own heart squeezes painfully as I let go of him. What’s he trying to say?
“My whole heart, Layne. Not a piece, but the complete damn thing.” He sighs and rubs his face. “And I never got it back.”
I give his back a wide-eyed stare. Is he talking about me? Or about…
“If you leave me again…” His voice breaks.
Shit, shit, shit. “What are you asking of me, Kyler?”Please. Don’t destroy the moment.
He drops his shoulders. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” With a deep sigh, he continues, “You’ve got that heart, dammit. Back when you and Connor were newlyweds, I tried things out with Jackie, but no sparks. I can’t love anyone the way I love you, Layne.”
The words burn my skin, paralyze me. I rub my upper arms with both hands. “Kyler, I—”Just don’t know what to say to this.
“I know why you left. I get it, too. But that doesn’t mean it was easy for me.” In one swift movement, he gets off the bed and walks over to the sink in the corner next to the door and places his hands on the edges. “Life in the MC isn't child’s play, I know that. What I asked of you wasn’t easy, Layne, and I understand why you didn’t want it for yourself. I really do. But my heart only knows that it was you and me against the world. And you said no so easily.” His voice breaks and his head sinks forward.
“It wasn’t that simple.” My voice is a whisper, and I don’t dare to look at him. “What we were…” I fidget with the edge of my old shirt. “What we had, I never had that with Connor, Kyler.” I force myself to look up and see the muscles under the tattoos on his shoulders are tight. His whole body seems taut.
In a husky voice, he responds, “What you want from me now, I can’t. I can’t be a rebound, not a night of fun.”
The unspoken words bounce through my head.
“I don’t know what I want. Is it fair to let Rebel grow up here?”
“Was it really that bad, Lay?” he asks before I can say any more. He turns his head toward me and I see the pain in his eyes.
“What?” I hold his gaze.
“Growing up at the club. Us.” Then he hangs his head again and breaks eye contact.
