Page 69 of Seeking Vengeance

I beat back the need for relief, vowing not to come until she does, promising to reach the end together. “Mi far stare bene.”

I fuck her savagely. Faster. Harder.

She tenses, her legs a vise around me. “I’m…”

I open my eyes and she’s gaping, her lips trembling as she shudders.

I’m powerless to stop myself from following her this time. I come undone, spilling inside her, losing myself to the climax and promising myself this will be the first of many.

19

Layla

I lay strewnacross his counter, my skin coated in a sheen of sweat, my heart fluttering like a sail in a hurricane.

“I’ll get you a cloth.” He moves out from between my legs and grabs my hand to pull me into a sitting position. Then he walks around the counter to claim something from a drawer. The faucet turns on seconds later. In the next blink he’s back in front of me, handing me a clean damp dish towel.

There’s nothing smug in his expression. No egotistical victory. He gives me the offering with respect in his eyes and steps away, allowing me a modicum of privacy to clean up the sinful mess between my thighs as he rights his pants.

“Do you want to take a shower?” He shoots me a sideways glance and picks up his shirt and jacket from the floor. “Or would you like something to eat? There’s a takeout place nearby that stays open late.”

“I’d love a shower… if you don’t mind.”

He winces. “I want you to feel comfortable here. In my city. My home. My bed. Take whatever you need.”

My stomach swells, doing a somersault of appreciation. So far, two out of three can’t be bad.

I’m entirely comfortable in D.C., in his penthouse. And we may not have used his bed, but I think I took quite a few liberties to make myself feel at home on his kitchen counter.

My problem is the exact opposite of what he wants. I should be feeling cautious. Skeptical. Cole would want me to be entirely vigilant.

I’ve been none of those things.

Neither has Matthew.

“You barely know me.” I scoot to my feet, ignoring the bite of self-consciousness now that he’s righted his clothes and I’m wearing nothing but shiny red heels. “Aren’t you worried I could be a gold-digger? Isn’t that what you thought I might have been with Remy and Salvatore?”

“You’re no gold-digger. And even though I might not know you as much as I’d like, I’m learning.” He grins. “And thoroughly enjoying the lesson.”

That swoopy, somersaulty thing takes over my belly again, then quickly fades into guilt. He has to be more wary. The thought of disappointing him when he learns the real me is punishing.

“There might come a time when you don’t like what you learn.” I give him a pointed look, trying to be his voice of reason. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. I won’t live up to the hype.”

He inclines his head and gives a subtle nod. “Okay. Point taken. Neither of us are pillars of the community. But there’s something in our chemistry, Layla. You feel it, too.”

I do, and it’s maddening in its potency. I don’t think I could escape the clutches of this attraction even if I wanted to.

“Umm…” I tilt my head toward the hall on the right of the open living area, then do the same toward the darker one to the left. “Which way to the shower?” I point my ass to the counter and bend to unclasp the straps of my heels, leaving them on the tiles.

“Use my personal bathroom. To the left. Last door on the right. Want me to show you?”

“No. It’s okay.” I start walking, needing a few minutes of breathing space to regain my equilibrium. “I won’t be long.”

I pad onto the carpet of the hall, glancing into rooms as I pass, appreciating how every space is neat and tidy. Without flaw.

I stop at the threshold of his bedroom and flick on the light, taking a moment to let the sight sink in. It’s another perfectly appointed room. Dark wooden furniture. Even darker bed coverings. Not one piece of strewn clothing or speck of dust in sight.

It doesn’t take long for my stare to move beyond appraisal and into daydream territory. I picture us both on the king-size mattress, his body atop mine, his movements hard and rhythmic.

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