Page 121 of Seeking Vengeance

I straighten. Stiffen.

“He knows I would die for you.” His eyes harden with the admission. “Either by Emmanuel’s actions or by going back to work for Lorenzo, and he fucking hates it. But if that’s the price I have to pay, so be it. I won’t lose you.”

28

Layla

“Did you grow up in D.C?”I stare at Matthew sitting behind the wheel of our luxurious rental, his sunglasses hiding his eyes.

“No. I moved there to start over.”

“Once you stopped working for Lorenzo?”

He nods, keeping his gaze on the road.

Yesterday came and went in a blur of emotional overload. After the shooting, then the sex, we spent the rest of the day in a weird state of hesitant conversation.

Although the embargo on information has been trampled, it’s clear we both find it hard to open up. I’d share a tidbit about my life, something insignificant and trivial, then he’d do the same.

He told me he had good grades in school. Lost his virginity to Grace. Played football. And planned to buy another club next month in Philadelphia. But I still don’t reallyknowhis past, and the same has to be said for him with me.

I haven’t told him why I hate the Costas. He hasn’t divulged the work he did for Lorenzo. Secrets still linger between us. The only thing we successfully achieved was a strengthened physical bond.

We laid in bed for hours, naked and sweaty, doing with our bodies what we couldn’t with our minds.

He touched me everywhere, learning every curve, committing all my sensitive spots to memory. And I did the same with him. We showered and ate, then repeated the loop all over again, adding glimpses of insight when quiet sank in, and contemplating the future when the truth became too hard.

Full disclosure will take time. And until that happens, there’s chemistry to rely on.

I can’t even look at him without tingling between my thighs.

That mouth has tasted every part of me. Those strong fingers have delved into parts I never knew existed.

This morning, we left the hotel without police intervention.

As Lorenzo promised, nobody questioned us about the shooting. Hotel staff didn’t mention the events, either. The only telltale sign that anything happened were the contractors working on the damage.

It was Matthew’s idea to arrange the rental car and drive to D.C. without Bishop as a third wheel. And I’ve spent the long hours on the road staring at my lover’s profile, our fingers entwined on the gearstick, my heart fully owned by a man I know wholeheartedly and don’t have the slightest understanding of at the same time.

“You’re always checking your phone,” he murmurs. “Have you spoken to your brother about us yet?”

I slide the cell under my leg and glance out the windscreen. “You know I haven’t.”

“Will you tell me before you do? I’d like to know when I should be pulling the Kevlar from the dresser.”

I whisper a laugh, but pain stabs through me.

Cole won’t understand what I have with Matthew. Not even when he fell for someone equally problematic.

“I’ll call him tomorrow and feed him whatever information necessary to keep him off my back. But I won’t be telling him about us for a while.”

He squeezes my fingers, giving me support in the most subtle of ways.

“I want to keep you to myself for a little longer.” I drag our entwined hands into my lap. “Is that okay?”

“It’s not only okay, it’s a preference. We should figure ourselves out before anyone else gets involved.”

Figuring ourselves out means full disclosure.

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