“Starving.”
She smiled—small, knowing. “Then sit down. It’s almost ready.”
I did as she said, taking a seat at the island while she plated the food. She set a plate in front of me, then poured two glasses of wine—a Pinot Noir I kept stocked specifically because she liked it.
We ate in comfortable silence. The food was perfect—the fish flaky and seasoned just right, the asparagus crisp, the potatoes creamy and rich. Layla knew how to cook the way I knew how to control a room. It was instinct. Skill. Art.
When we finished, she stood and started clearing the plates.
I caught her wrist.
She stopped and looked down at me.
“Leave it,” I said.
Her pulse jumped under my fingers. “You sure?”
I stood, still holding her wrist, and pulled her closer. She came willingly, her body fitting against mine like it always did.
“I’m sure.”
She tilted her head back, her eyes searching mine. “Rough day?”
“You could say that.”
“You need to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Then what do you need?”
I didn’t answer with words.
I kissed her.
Hard. Hungry. The kind of kiss that wasn’t about romance or tenderness—it was about release. About burning off the violence still coiled tight in my chest.
She kissed me back just as hard, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. Layla didn’t do soft. She didn’t do gentle. She matched my intensity, met my hunger with her own.
I backed her against the island, my hands sliding down to grip her hips. She gasped into my mouth, her body arching into mine.
“Upstairs,” she breathed.
“No.”
I lifted her onto the island, stepped between her thighs, and kissed her again. Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me in, and I felt the heat of her even through our clothes.
My hands moved to the hem of her tank top, pulling it up and over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts were perfect—full, firm, dark nipples already hard.
I bent my head and took one into my mouth.
She moaned, her fingers threading through my hair, holding me there. I sucked hard, then bit down gently, and she gasped, her hips rolling against me.
“Amai.”
I pulled back and looked up at her. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths.
“Say it again,” I said.
