We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, our bodies still connected.
Finally, I pulled out and stepped back.
Layla sat up slowly, her legs still shaking, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. She looked at me with those dark, knowing eyes.
“Feel better?” she asked.
I pulled my pants back up and buckled my belt. “Yeah.”
She smiled—small and satisfied. “Good.”
She slid off the island, picked up her clothes, and walked toward the stairs without looking back.
I watched her go, my pulse finally starting to slow, the violence finally starting to fade.
The hunger was satisfied.
For now.
I turned back to the kitchen, looked at the dishes still on the counter, the wine glasses half-empty.
Tomorrow, I’d deal with Raymond. With the surrogacy search. With the contract and the woman who’d signed it.
But tonight, I’d burned off the darkness.
And that was enough.
Laughter erupted from the hallway off the kitchen—loud, obnoxious, unmistakable.
“Goddamn, cuz!” Syx’s voice carried before he did. “You be fuckin’ theshitoutta your chef lady!”
He stepped into view, all six-foot-one of him, locs swinging past his shoulders, that cocky-ass grin plastered across his dark-skinned face like he’d just won something. He was wearing a white Amiri shirt and joggers, looking entirely too comfortable in my house at damn near midnight.
My jaw tightened.
“Syx.”
“What?” He threw his hands up, still laughing. “I ain’t lyin’. Y’all was goin’crazyin here. I heard everything from the game room.”
Layla’s footsteps paused on the stairs. I didn’t look at her, but I felt her hesitation—deciding whether to keep going or come back down. She kept going. Smart woman.
I turned my full attention to Syx, and the temperature in the room dropped.
“How many times,” I said, my voice low and controlled, “have I told you to stop lurking around my house?”
“Lurking?” Syx scoffed, leaning against the doorframe like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Man, I ain’t lurkin’. I live here. I wassleep. Y’all the ones who woke me up with all that moanin’ and shit.”
“Get out of my face.”
“Amai.”
“I said get the fuck out.”
He didn’t move. Just stood there grinning like this was all a game. Like I wouldn’t put him out on his ass if he pushed me one more time.
“You got one more time,” I said, stepping toward him. “One more time, Syx, and I’m kicking your ass out for good. You hear me?”
“Man,youthe one fuckin’ on the island where everybody eat,” he shot back, still grinning. “That’s nasty as hell, cuz. What I’m supposed to do—come down here tomorrow and eat my cereal where you just?—”
