Page 60 of Keep Me Still

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For a split second, the wounded look that crosses Layla’s face has me hating myself. But then her lips curve up just a little and her eyes go soft. “Like on our first date, when you paid for Ol’ Clyde’s pie, and he told you that you’d have to do a lot better than that to impress me.”

God, I’d nearly forgotten that part of our date.

Ol’ Clyde was Hope Springs’ resident homeless guy. A Vietnam vet with a hell of a temper who frequented Our Place, Layla’s favorite diner. My dad was a son of a bitch and all, but he made it clear that anyone who’d served his country deserved respect, no matter how he’d ended up. It had scored me some major points with my date, though I hadn’t even realized she was paying attention.

“Are you coming up?” she asks so low I barely hear her. She pulls her ID card from her purse as I come back from the memory. The questions in her eyes are a lot more complex than the one on her lips. Her mouth says,Come upstairs and be with me if you want. Her eyes are asking questions I’m a little nervous about answering out loud.Do you want me? Do you love me? Is this going to be a regular thing?

Yes, hell yes, and dear God I hope so.

“If you want me to, then I am.”

“I want you to,” she says easily, sending my heart hammering into my throat.

My mind travels back over the past few hours. Layla coming down the bleachers, cheering my name for everyone to hear, yelling at me about giving up my chance to play pro, drinking that damn milkshake slow enough to kill me.

I follow her up the stairs and my knees bitch at me about not icing them after the game. But the rest of me is practically sprinting past Layla in anticipation of spreading her naked body out on the bed and burying myself so deep inside of her I can’t fucking see straight.

I’ve barely closed the door behind me when she reaches for me. My heart rate ramps up several notches as I inhale her sweet peach and now sweet whipped cream scent. It’s a dangerous combo, and over her blond head I’m eyeing that futon to determine if it’s big enough for me to make love to her on it how I want to.

“I love watching you play, Landen,” she breathes against my lips.

Grinning like a maniac, I lower my head so she can get some leverage on my mouth without standing on her tiptoes. “I love you watching me play, Layla. Though I bet Taite wishes you wouldn’t come since I just nearly outscored his ass.”

“Do you wish I wouldn’t come?” she pouts at me. My head swims at how fast she can turn me on.

“If it’s up to me, you’ll always come. Come to every game. Then I promise to make you comeafterevery game.” I should be exhausted, but adrenaline is flooding through me, and my dick stands at attention. I lean down and kiss her softly. Something about brushing my lips against hers, that sweet promise of something much more intense to come, it just…does it for me.

Layla’s small hands reach up and grasp my neck. I pull her to me, allowing her to back me up against the door. Her lips are wet and soft and taste like her milkshake. Fuck yeah, there’s a to-go cup around here somewhere.

“Babe?” I murmur into her mouth.

Her shoulders tense and she pulls back. “Yeah?” Her eyes are wide and still burning from our kiss.

“Can I have a drink of your shake?”

Her forehead creases, and I barely manage to keep the smirk off my face. As she leans over to grab the Styrofoam cup from the edge of the desk, her shirt rides up and my mouth goes dry at the sight of her bare waist. I’ve got big plans for the rest of that milkshake.

When she hands me the cup, I lift the plastic lid from the edge and peer down at the three cherries resting in the dissolving cream. Thank the good Lord for extra cherries. Though thanking God for them considering how I’m about to use them, is probably sacrilegious.

Without a word, I take Layla’s hand and pull her into the bedroom. She giggles at my urgency, but when we get to the bed and she looks up at my face, she falls silent. “Landen,” she whispers.

And I know she’s nervous even though we’ve been here before. She’s still afraid, afraid I’ll bail out again, or worse, just stop wanting her. I can see the uncertainty on her face, and it’s ridiculous. I’ve never wanted anything more than this, more than her. Not even the Colonel’s goddamn approval. Smoothing a hand down her cheek, I sink my gaze into hers.

“I love you, Layla Flaherty,” I tell her because I can feel how badly she needs to hear it. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

I watch as her pupils dilate and she licks her lips. “I do.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” I lean back, despite my body’s protest to throw her down and tear her clothes to shreds.

“I’m going to love you right back.” And before I have time to respond, she thrusts her body into my arms, crushing her sweet mouth to mine. Firmly enough to let her know what I want, but gently enough to keep from hurting her feelings, I pull back, step closer to Corin’s bed, and shake my head.

“Strip.” The command comes out harsher than I mean for it to, but my brave girl grins up at me. Her slender arms cross in front of her body as she lifts the hem of her shirt up and over her head. Her black lacy bra suggests to me that she wants this, planned for it even before coming to my game. For a second, I’m back in the stadium, looking up at her as the field lights shine all around my glowing angel. And she gives me that look, the secret one that says I’m the only one who knows what she feels like from the inside, in my mouth, and tight around my dick.

I want toalwaysbe the only one.

“Slower,” I command, hoping the damn milkshake doesn’t melt too much.

Layla unbuttons her jeans and raises a brow at me. I nod, because yes, now she’s going slowly enough. Once her jeans are down, she kicks them to the side, and I take in her matching lace panties. Every cell in my body screams at me to hit my knees, pull that tiny scrap of fabric aside, and plunge my tongue into her wetness.