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I’m about to call him back to ask for the check when my body becomes aware of her presence. The way my cells seem to sense hers is inexplicable. It’s also how I know that this will never end. Lyla gets back in her seat, picks up her napkin, sets it on her lap, and takes a sip of her drink as if nothing happened. I stare at the side of her face. “Don’t.” It’s all she says. It’s all she has to say.
She doesn’t even spare me a glance to scowl at me. This is bad. This is really fucking bad. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I heard you,” she says. “I really am.” “I said I heard you.” Her eyes flash to mine. “I’m trying to figure out if I even give a fuck anymore.” My heart sinks. No, fuck no. “Don’t say that.”
She smells so good. She feels so good, so perfect. “I’m so sorry, Lyla James. I don’t even know what to apologize for first, but I’m sorry for all of it,” I say against her neck. “Please don’t stop caring.” She inhales deeply and lets it out. She doesn’t say anything, but she lets me hold her, and that’s enough for now.
We haven’t spoken since my tantrum at the restaurant, which I loathe myself for. I still can’t believe I did that. The only other time I’ve ever lost my cool like that was at Marissa’s party a million years ago. I swear he’s the only person who can make me this angry.
He dresses so formally these days. It’s weird. Hot, but weird. I’m wearing jeans, an oversized white dress shirt with rolled sleeves, and plain white sneakers. I open my backpack, take out my black cable-knit sweater and tie it over my shoulders.
“Leave my girlfriend alone,” Lach says, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me to his side. Mason laughs. “I was just telling her that you two are meant to be together.” “I agree,” Lach says, his deep voice making my stomach somersault. He lowers his mouth to my ear. “Did you eat?” “Not yet.”
“It’s not fake,” he says, a low growl, his breath on the shell of my ear. “It’s real. This,” He wraps an arm around me and pulls me against him, “is real. You
have every fucking right to be upset, I’ll give you that, but don’t you dare say that what we have is fake.” “Whatever, I don’t really care anymore,”
“Fancy.” I raise my eyebrows and look back at The Bean. “Does that mean you can hack into anyone’s computer?” He laughs. “I can but I don’t.” “Have you done it?” I turn to him. “I was a nerdy teenager once.” “And now?” “A nerdy adult.” He chuckles. My lips twitch. “Nerds always get the last laugh.” “Cheers to that.” He lifts his small clear cup. “I’m Sean, by the way.” “Lyla.” I tap mine against his. “So, if you’re not with the company, and you don’t know whether or not you’re staying, I'm assuming you’re here with someone.”
I just want him to be my Lach again. “It’s complicated,” I say after a moment. “Relationships are hard.”
“Okay, fuck this,” Lachlan mutters and I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath. “If one of you touches her, I will kill you. If you flirt with her, I will kill you,” Lach says, the growl in his low menacing voice halting their conversations. “Don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t even fucking think about her.”
“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” I say between laughs. “You think that’s crazy?” He lunges at me just as the elevator doors open and hoists me over his shoulder.
“Take your clothes off,” he demands as he works on his belt. I’m still ogling. He pulls his belt from the loops and whips it so hard on the mattress that I jolt with a squeak. “NOW, LYLA.”
“I don’t care,” I say, and manage to narrow my eyes despite the pain. “Just fuck me. Maybe this way I can finally get you out of my system.” He arches an eyebrow. “You’re going to regret saying that.”
“Holy. . .” His grip tightens on my hair. “Goddamn it, Lyla.”
he does it, which turns me on despite the discomfort. Finally, he pulls out slowly and lets go of my hair. I land on my hands and start gasping for air as I wipe my face. I look up to tell him off and find that maddening, cunning smile on his face. “What happened?” he asks, jaw ticking. “I thought you didn’t care?” Asshole. I glare up at him. “I don’t.”
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he says in a low, animalistic groan that makes my entire body tighten. He stops moving for a moment, pulls out, and does it again. “Fucking hell, Lyla. You feel so fucking good.”
“Do you trust me, or is that also gone?” His eyes are hard, as he asks the question. I know he’s upset, but fuck, why now? I take a breath and nod. His eyes darken. “I need to hear the words.” “I trust you,” I whisper, looking at him. “Relax for me, then,” he says, his voice softer now.
“Don’t stop.” I moan as I tug it, my eyes rolling back. “Please don’t stop.” “Fuck, baby.”
My eyes roll back with the intensity of it. I don’t want him to stop. I want him to lose his mind the way I just did.
I bring a hand up and slowly run the tips of my fingers down his sternum. He shivers at my touch and I look up at him. My heart squeezes at what I find in his eyes. Yes, they’re intense, but this isn’t an angry fuck. This is something totally different. This is him before. This is him when he loved me, even though neither of us spoke the words aloud.
“Look at me,” he rasps, moving a little faster now. I feel the pressure building. I bite my lip and shake my head. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I need you to look at me.” “I can’t,” I repeat a little louder, tears rolling down the sides of my face and hitting my neck. “I need you. . .to look at me.”
“Does this feel fake to you?” he grunts, as he fucks me harder now, his thrusts matching the anger in his tone. “Does it?”
“Does this feel like something you can just get out of your system?” He takes my mouth in a bruising kiss. “Tell me.” “No,” I gasp. “It doesn't. It’s not.”
“Come on, Lyla James,” he rasps out, taking my bottom lip into his mouth. “I want everything. Give me everything.” “Oh fuck, Lach,”
She walks past the bed, toward the sitting area with the bookshelf, and two plush white chairs. She sits in one of them and looks out the window. I put my hands in my pockets as I watch her take in the view, wishing I could snap a picture of her right now. Messy hair, no makeup, in an oversized shirt, and she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. So fucking perfect.
“Lyla.” Liam sets down his glass and gives me a sympathetic smile. “My brother would give up his inheritance, hockey, kidneys, and testicles if it meant he’d have you. I wish that was hyperbole, but it’s the truth.”
“Lach,” I whisper, keeping a hand there as I reach up and brush his hair away from his forehead with the other. His eyes soften for the tiniest moment, so I ask, “Are you talking about Liam?” “He upset you.” His jaw clenches harder, if possible. “He made you cry. What the fuck did he say?” I stare at him for a moment, thinking about this entire, fucked up situation, and maybe it’s because my emotions are all over the freaking place, but I start to full-out laugh.
“You’re this pissed off because your brother said something to upset me?” I search his eyes, still laughing. “Even though you’ve been trying to hurt me from the moment you found me?” “Lyla.”
“Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” “Tell me you’re mine.” He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it hard as he moves his finger slightly, brushing just where I need him and keeping me just at the cusp of an orgasm. Bastard. “Tell me you’re mine and only mine, and I’ll make you come. Fucking tell me.”
“No. Nooo,” I breathe. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” “Look at me.” He slaps my ass hard. I glare at him. “This isn’t funny, Lachlan.” “I never said it was.” His eyes narrow on mine. “Tell me.”
“We need to talk. We need to talk about a lot of things,” I say quietly. “But right now, I think we should get back to our engagement party.”
“You fuck me up, Lyla James,” he whispers. He pulls me into his chest and I smile against him. For the first time in a long time, I feel safe again. Loved.
“I won’t let you go,” he says, voice raspy beneath my ear. “I can’t. I wouldn’t know how to.” “Then, don’t,” I whisper against his mouth and kiss him.
I shrug. “I was terrified I’d forget what you look like, so I put pictures of you where I had to see you every day. It hurt, it still hurts, but I couldn’t. . .” I blink rapidly.
I purse my lips. “Yet you waited until Wade was about to kiss me, to make your presence known.” His eyes darken. “He kept touching you all night. I wanted to fucking kill him.” I keep what I want to say to myself. “He’s inconsequential,” I say. “And not worth discussing right now.”
“You could never be my nightmare, Lachlan Duke.” I stand straight and wait until he’s fully paying attention. “I love you more than I hate anything.”
“It’s a black speckled diamond, for your little black heart,” he says, smiling as he takes it out of the box and slides it on my ring finger. “Holy shit,” I whisper again, my bottom lip wobbling as more tears form.
“Lyla.” He groans, shutting his eyes. “Lach,” I say quietly, bringing my hands to his face. I wait until he opens his eyes. “Ask me.” He looks at me for a long moment, takes a deep breath, and blurts. “Will you marry me, Lyla James?” “Yes.” I smile wide, giving him the smile he once told me he wanted to possess. “And I’ll stay with you forever. And ever. And ever.”
“You look so fucking beautiful,” he says, voice husky, when his smoldering green eyes reach mine. “That’s funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”
“What? I get hard just fucking thinking about you,”
“And then you show up at my office looking like this.” “I’m not even wearing anything tight.” I roll my eyes, smiling as I pull away.
“I like your office,” I say quietly. He laughs against me. “I like having you in my office.”
didn’t say it wasn’t scary in there.” He shrugs, still amused. “I’m just saying, all you’d find in there is yourself.” “And hockey,” I respond. “Yeah.” He nods in agreement. “But mostly you.” We’re both smiling when we reach his parents and Liam.
“Lyla, listen to me,” Pres says interrupting. “If you told him everything that happened to you and showed him the pictures we took at the hospital, Lachlan will commit murder. I’m telling you right now, he will. He’ll kill him and end up in jail.”
“Will you walk me down the aisle?” I ask and bite my lip to keep my emotions at bay. This is a big deal to me. I’m sure it is to most brides who have a ceremonial wedding, even one as unconventional as this one. “Pres?” “Fuck.” He clears his throat. “Of course, I’ll walk you down the aisle.” “Thank you.” I smile. “I’ll keep you posted on what happens.” “Please don’t let him do something he can go to jail for.”
“What if I have nudes in here?” I ask to bide time, even though this will probably make him as angry as the pictures from the attack. “Do you?” “Maybe.” I shrug. “What if a guy sent me his nudes and I have them on there?” “Then I’d find out where he lives and pay him a visit.” His jaw ticks. “Stop fucking with me, Lyla. Let me see the pictures.”
“First, I need you to calm down. Take some deep breaths,” I say. He shoots me a look. “Show me the pictures.” “Not if you’re going to be like this already.” He glares at me but takes a couple of deep breaths.
“He didn’t. . .” I say, knowing he’ll understand. He didn’t rape me. “You were alone,” he whispers. “I was in the hospital hating you with everything I had, and you were going through this alone.” He swallows hard. “Fuck.” A second later, he punches the other side of the seat. “Fuck!”
“I can’t,” he says quietly, his eyes troubled. “I’m not going to make you a promise I’m not sure I can keep.”
