Page 41 of The Physical Attraction Seminar
I hate to be the one to break it to her, but I am not going to be able to get much sleep tonight. Or any night this week, for that matter. Especially not after that unforgettable kiss we shared the other night, where time seemed to stand still.
I wince, remembering how stupid I am for confessing that I fall asleep at night replaying our first date in my head. What kind of idiot just comes right out and admits that? Now we’re stuck sharing a bed at the couples retreat for the next five nights. And she’s going to lie next to me, knowing that my mind wanders to thoughts of her while dozingoff to sleep.
“Lyla…”
“I’m just… I’m still trying to find something to wear.” The faint tremor in her voice might go unnoticed by some, but I pick up on it instantly.
When you regularly engage with a large number of people every day like I do—clients, employees, and other executives—you become attuned to subtle shifts in people’s behavior. It's become a sort of game to me, observing the sudden shifts in people's demeanor and trying to decipher the reasons behind them.
That being said, I have a strong suspicion that the reason for Lyla’s nervousness is the exact same reason that prevents me from getting a good night's sleep.
If that's accurate, then it means Lyla Hayward likes me more than an assistant likes her boss.
Too bad I’m not going to do a damn thing about it until I hear those words come from her pretty mouth.
I encouraged her to think about what I said to her, and that’s exactly what I want her to do. Because once we cross that line, there’s no going back for me.
My brothers might tease me for being a hopeless romantic, but I don’t care. From the moment I laid eyes on Lyla, I knew meeting her was fate. And the validity of my intuition was only solidified when the cosmic force at play brought her back into my life after I thought I’d never see her again. Now, I just have to wait until she sees the signs, too.
“You’ve rearranged your suitcase…” I pause, doing a mental count. “Four times tonight?”
“Five,” she replies with a sigh.
“And you still can’t find anything to wear?”
“I… well, I have something on…” With a pinched expression on her face, Lyla hesitantly pokes her head out of the bathroom door. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it. And I don’t have an explanation for it other than I thought it was going to be in a room by myself, and I was a bit behind on laundry.”
“You could wear a paper bag, and you’d be the most gorgeous woman in any room.”
Lyla sighs, her hand lingering on the doorframe before she reluctantly lets go and cautiously steps into the bedroom. She nervously stops at the end of the bed, clutching the hem of the t-shirt I lent her on the night we met.
I can't help but let my jaw drop in awe.
“I…”
Couldn’t breathe? Formulate a proper sentence? Figure out why the hell she thought I would dislike seeing her wear my t-shirt?
The words I want to say are tangled on the tip of my tongue, refusing to escape. So, I just sit here. Leaning against the headboard—unable to move, unable to speak, and unable to take my eyes off of her.
Lyla slumps her shoulders, and her gaze falls to the carpet, where she nervously twirls her foot in circles. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I should’ve brought more clothes to wear to bed. It’s just… there was this thing with our dryer. Sometimes it takes two cycles to get everything fully dry. Have you ever had a dryer like that?” She’s rambling, pacing back and forth around the bed with her lip tucked between her teeth. The bottom of her ass is peeking out from under her shirt as she walks around. “Probably not. I forgot about the whole billionaire-since-birth thing. Side note, did you know you’re like the worst billionaire ever? You hardly leave your office. You never go out. From what I can tell, you hardly spend any money. You wear the same style suit every day, which I’m sure is expensive, but you’re obviously not spending money on other clothes. What’s up with that?”
I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips as I redirect the conversation by saying, “Let’s circle back to the dryer, shall we?”
“Right. So, the second cycle was taking too long, and you and Lionel were already outside waiting, and I didn’t want to have damp clothes in my suitcase for hours.” She pauses briefly, inhaling deeply before continuing her never-ending spiel. “You know what… I just remembered I brought this really cute pink dress. Why don’t I put that on, and we can pretend it’s a nightgown?”
“Keep the shirt on and get in the bed.” I can't handle another minute of her nonsensical rambling, and I can't stand the thought of seeing her in anything other than my t-shirt. “I’m tired from traveling, and I want to turn the light out.”
“Well, I’m not all that tired yet. Maybe I’ll just go sleep in the lounge chair on the balcony…”
In a split second, Lyla's hurried movements jolt me awake, and I quickly untangle myself from the cozy comforter. With two long strides, I reach her and secure my hands around her waist. “Don’t even try it.”
Lyla ignores me, still reaching for the door handle, but I hold her back. With no other option, I spin her around and effortlessly hoist her over my shoulder. She tries fighting it for a few moments, her legs flailing in protest. Eventually, as I carry her over to her side of the bed, she gives up and mumbles to herself in defeat.
I gently toss her onto the plush bed, positioning my hands on either side of the mattress near her head. Leaning in, I whisper, “You were really planning to sleep outside without a blanket?”
“I would’ve been fine,” she argues. “Believe it or not, I’ve encountered a few gentle ocean breezes before, and they never bothered me.”
“Wow, I had no idea I was in the presence of a true weather warrior.”
