by Shayne Ford
The golden light dashes fire in her hair and makes her eyes sparkle––drops of liquid hazel meshed with green starbursts, and rimmed with long, dark eyelashes.
A smile narrows her eyes.
Squinting against the light, she runs her gaze over my face and examines my eyes. Tilting my head to the side, I quietly observe her.
“No more photographs, Layla. You’re officially off the job, “ I finally say, and she tilts her lips slowly, unable to utter words. Her eyes dip to my mouth, her lips curving lazily, so ready to be kissed.
“You don’t read minds, do you?” she asks, her mellow voice pulling me out of my thoughts.
She most likely refers to her job, but my mind is already tainted with lust.
I laugh to buy myself some time.
“No, I don’t read minds... But... I have to say... you’re really easy...”
And here I go again, truthful–– having nothing better to do. I hope my grin is more honorable than my words.
“Really? That easy?”
I figure I can’t blunder if I keep my mouth shut, so I nod, trying to suppress a chuckle.
“Not good,” she says, a playful smile lighting up her face.
“There’s nothing you can do about it,” I say, my eyes dipping to her lips. “Some people just can’t help it,” I add, and I’m damn sure, I no longer talk about her.
“Are we still talking about reading people?”
She’s got me the second time. It’s time to make a move and pull my mind out of this faulty loop.
“Yes, we are… Let me show you something.”
Without another word, I take her hand and walk her to the house.
I pull the vintage Camaro out of the garage, not so much to impress her but to give it a ride. I rarely get the occasion to drive it, especially to the hills.
The windows are down, the weather balmy.
She leans back in her seat, her supple body on display. Her face angles as she takes in the view, her skin glowing in the red-golden light.
The wind blows through her hair, her face lit up with a mysterious smile. The breeze makes her top flutter, the sheer fabric sliding down her shoulders, revealing her lace encased breasts. Goosebumps form where the wind meets the skin.
A long, quiet exhale escapes my lips.
She turns to me, her smile warm, inviting.
Unhurriedly, I let my eyes drift down on her, studying the arching of her hips, the lines of her thighs, and the curves of her breasts as they push against the sheer fabric of her top.
Smoothly, I raise my eyes and focus briefly on her lips.
Tense, she stretches her legs, and curves her back, tempting me. I pull my gaze away, hiding my smile.
After a few more miles, I bring the car to a stop in a remote lookout area, a place with some of the best scenic views of the valley.
She sets her photographic equipment while I lean against the hood of the car.
“You have about half an hour, give or take,” I say as she starts taking pictures.
She’s passionate and enthusiastic as much as she is patient and meticulous. She loves what she does. Once in a while, she gives me a glance, a small smile playing on her lips.
She reminds me of a girl discovering the pleasure of being herself for the first time. Feeling safe and protected by someone else. The fact that, in her eyes, I’m that person, makes me feel unusually good.
As she does her thing, I stare at the horizon.
The sun dissolves into a big splash of red, littering the sky with bleeding, frayed clouds. My breathing settles. I finally feel at ease. I don’t know if it’s the place, the silence, or her presence, but I no longer feel that restlessness in me.
Soon, she dismounts the camera, folds the tripod, and tucks them into her bag before she places everything back in the car.
Her footsteps echo right beside me. Hesitant, she leans on the car and examines me again.
“Can I take a picture of you?” she asks, and I shoot a glance at her, faster than I should.
Regret fills her eyes.
“I’m sorry... It’s just that… the light... your face...” she mumbles, fidgeting like a six-year-old.
She’s so funny, losing her shit every time I raise an eyebrow, so I’m going to play with her.
“Please don’t take it the wrong way,” she says.
Silent, I step in front of her. She covers her face with her hands. I wait. She sneaks a glance at me… eventually.
“With one condition,” I say, clasping my fingers on her wrists, slowly tearing her hands away from her face.
I tip my head down and lock her eyes.
“You’re going to be in the picture, with me.”
“No, no... I can’t do that. You can’t be serious.”
“I’m fucking serious,” I say.
Suppressing a chuckle, I pull my phone out from my pocket.
“No, no. I can’t... I don’t look good in pictures.”
“I really don’t care.”
I prop my butt against the car, guide her in front of me, and lock her between my legs. Her back turned to me, she stiffens.
“Can you relax?” I ask, and a soft quiver falls through her.
My lips brush her neck as I inhale the scent of wildflowers lifting off her skin. Her thighs press, long against mine, seeping warmth into my body.
Smoothly, I snake my arm around her waist, and brush the bottom of her breasts. Her chest rises with a gulp of air, her back crashing into my chest, her body hot with fire.
Smiling, I slide my fingers into her hair, brush it all to one side, and gently run my fingers down her neck. Another sharp intake of air makes her chest tilt, the whimper stuck in her throat, telling me how starved she is.
She vibrates under my fingers like an exquisite guitar. I inch closer to her, my breath rolling softly over her skin. Another shiver races through her body.
“You’re not good with pictures, are you?” I ask teasingly,
She sways her head side to side.
“Good. That makes two of us.”
“That’s not true.”
“Shh. Just relax.”
It takes a moment before her breathing steadies. She finally leans on me, feeding the growing tension inside me.
“Ready?”
I take a picture. The first snapshot doesn’t suck at all.
“It’s not bad,” I say.
She checks the picture and nods softly.
“Can you give me a smile?”
I take a look at the second shot. This one is not bad either. Her eyes glint with a soft, ephemeral smile, my grin giving me away.
I tap the screen and send the pictures to her phone before I put mine back into my pocket and lock my arms around her.
Timidly, she rests her hands on top of mine as we watch the sky. A few moments tick by before she leans her head against my shoulder, and closes her eyes.
I drink in her delicate jawline and the column of her neck before I set my gaze on her lips. I lower my mouth, so tempted, and yet, I pull away.
Reluctantly, I whisper.
“Time to go...”
In one swift motion, she jerks out of my arms, takes a few steps and turns her back to me.
“Okay,” she says with a shaky voice.
She combs her fingers through her hair and wipes a tear away. Furtively, she glances at me, and I sense her, tense. Suspicious.
Fuck me.
I didn’t even touch her, and she’s already not trusting me. And then it dawns on me. If I want her, really, really want her, she has to come to me.
All of her.
Mind, body, and heart.
Otherwise, I’ll get my hands on howling wind. And even if she does, chances are, I’ll get screwed in the end.
She raises her eyes and looks at me. She’s no longer hiding her emotions. Maybe because she no longer gives a shit.
Swimming with tears, her eyes show more than conceal. It looks to me as if she’s never learned to hid
e her feelings, pretend or pose or even lie.
Pure light flashes in her eyes, warming my heart.
“You’re not going to freak out on me, are you? “ I ask, cold.
I watch her intently, studying her reaction.
The light in her eyes tells me she knows exactly what I’m talking about. Even if she knows, I’m not going to make it easy for her. I’m not going to hold her hand. I want her to be sure and strong enough to give me what I want.
She struggles under my stare, her eyes dipping to my lips. Hunger seizes her eyes, and it’s stronger than her fear. A smile crawls up my lips.
Well, as long as she gives in into that crave, she’ll come back to me, and if this is how we’re gonna play this thing, fine by me. I’m all game. I can give her what she wants.
Running my gaze down on her, I curve my lips into a sly smile.
“Listen...We can do this the easy way...” I say.
“Or?”
“Or the hard way.”
“Define the hard way.”
“Not trusting me,” I say, and the light drains out of her eyes.
11
To my surprise, it doesn’t take her long before she strolls back to me and leans against my car. I push off the hood and pivot in front of her.
She tips her head down, averting her eyes.
“Look at me,” I say softly.
I hook my finger under her chin and tilt her face up, our lips inches apart. Her nails scrape the car as beads of sweat pool on her lip.
She churns heat like a furnace.
I look down at her beautiful body, and I feel her pain, and it’s a beautiful struggle to watch, but then it dawns on me what the problem is. This girl hasn’t been loved much, or maybe not by the right people, or possibly both.
I bring my gaze to her lips, drag it down to her chest, and then to the sweet spot between her legs. I see how much she wants to be taken, and I’m right on the fence, at the same time realizing that this is the moment when I should pull back if I don’t want to start something I can’t fucking stop.
She pushes up onto my car, and I lodge myself between her knees. She parts her thighs and leans back, her back arching, her luscious breasts moving with that soft, natural easiness I so much love.
She stares at me, mystified.
Her shoulders pull back, and her mounds push up, begging to be touched. Heat spills into my blood, my body tense as fuck.
This gives me a pretty good idea on how being inside of her would feel like. Her gaze falls to my lips, and I’m beyond tempted, but if I do this now, there’s a good chance I’d scratch my eyes later on.
Even if this thing between us amounts to nothing, she deserves more than a quick fuck on my car, and by more I mean enough.
And then, as I search her eyes, something else strikes me. She looks like a woman, but she’s not a woman yet. That’s what Ron meant when he said she’s different. That’s what I noticed the first time I got a glimpse of her, and that’s why I fucking care about her.
I have a feeling that, by the time I’m done making a woman out of her, I might want her to be mine. That’s why I don’t want to mess this up.
The thought sobers me up.
“Layla?”
She looks at me, dazed.
“I... I didn’t... I’m sorry. Is there something that I’ve done?” she mutters.
Her eyes glisten, her voice clouded, right on the cusp of tears as a storm of emotions sweeps through her. There’s nothing else I want right now than to give her what she wants.
I look deep into her eyes, my fingers trailing up her neck and then sliding into her hair. She tilts her head back, pressing it against my hand, and curves her back again, her legs opening slightly, her lips pulling apart.
Pleading, enticing, luring. I take a long breath. I’m so fucking hard.
I tuck a few strands of hair away from her face, roll my fingers across her cheek, and gently run my thumb over her lips.
They are soft, shimmering with tears. I can’t tear my eyes away from them, my mind going wild with possibilities. And yet, I have to do this right.
“It’s your call, Layla,” I finally say with an flat voice.
The blood draws out of her face.
“You can go back, and never hear from me again...” I say, and pain flits through her eyes.
“Or?”
“Or trust me.”
She ponders for a moment. I smile and pull away. Her hand grips my arm. Firmly. Desperately. And that’s exactly what I need to see if this thing is gonna happen.
“How do I trust?”
“You learn...”
Her eyes widen, her eyebrows tilting up. She knows it’s not easy. She’s probably tried it before. But trust never works, unless you fear nothing, and you can only do that if you’re clueless or if you’ve already faced your worst fears. She’s not clueless, and she probably hasn’t dealt with her worst fears.
I take her face into my hands and try to sweeten the deal.
“It’s not what you imagine...” I say.
“What do I imagine?”
She’s smart, but she not gonna catch me. I’m not going to play this game with her.
“I’m not even part of your world,” she mutters.
Tilting my head to the side, I grin.
“What is my world, babe?”
Her eyes glisten, so beautiful, giving me a glimpse of her heart. I’ve never seen someone so good inside.
It’s so rare. It’s like exploring an untouched place, a virgin forest, a beach or ocean. A stark reminder of how the world is supposed to be.
For reasons I can’t grasp right now, she kept her innocence, and sensitivity.
Thoughts rush through her mind, becoming fleeting lights across her eyes, and then a different expression slides onto her face.
As if she made up her mind. A spark of courage glimmers in her gaze.
She brings my hand to her face, leans against my touch and watches me with burning eyes. No game. No act. As fearful as she is, she’s bold as hell.
Her lips tremble beneath my touch as she enticingly pulls them apart. Slowly, I crush them under my thumb. She runs her tongue across her lips, a rush of pleasure surging through me as things I’d like to do to her fill my mind.
The wind spins around us, lifting her top, sliding my shirt open. Her eyes dip to my chest as my gaze drops to her legs. Three buttons keep the short jeans on her.
I stare a moment longer, dwelling.
Still undecided, I wrap my arm around her waist, pull her up and into my chest. A wave of heat rolls over us. I’m hot and hard, and worse, just about to forget my wisdom.
She slides her hand up my back, exploring me with the passion of someone who fasted for too long. Her thighs lock around me. I’m rock hard between her legs, and that’s the last place I should be if I want to pull away.
My brain seems to get mix messages, and randomly picks one. I tighten my embrace. Her breasts press against my chest, her hands clasping on my neck. Tension sets in her body. I’m so close.
As close as she wants me to be.
I’m breathing into her, my lips trailing hers. I run my hand up her thigh, about to lay her on my car. Burning me to see how bad she needs me, I almost go down with her…when everything comes to a stop.
There’s no mood killer like the headlights of a car flashing up your ass when you’re in the middle of setting yourself on top of a willing woman, and that’s exactly what happens next. The car passes by, rumbling down the slope, and then, instead of rolling all the way down, it stops and backs up.
I turn to stone.
Is this my fucking luck?
Do I really need to deal with this shit now? It pulls nearby, and that’s good, ‘cause I’m tight as shit and ready to snap someone’s neck.
I glance at Layla. Her eyes swim with fear, and it’s the worst kind of fear you can see in a woman. I straighten and close my shirt, getting ready for the new party, and then I stretch my hand out an
d help her off the car.
A few men jump out of the other car, the air filling with slurs and laughter that make her shudder. I need her back in the car.
“Give me a minute,” I say, getting ready to entertain the chimps behind my back.
She slips inside and turns the lights on.
“Is the party over?” one of them shouts, and I’m about to explode.
I’m a peaceful, reasonable guy–– usually, but I can’t stand fools. They shriek and growl as if they attend a coyote convention. Poker-faced, I turn around, ready for our little summit.
I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to stifle my impulse to slap them before I speak, and head to them.
Three dimwits gaze at me.
I scan for the leader of the pack, and to my surprise it’s not one of the morons who dance in front of the car, running their mouths as if it’s a merry-go-round.
Elbows resting on the doorframe, the driver watches the two maggots as they make a fool of themselves. I don’t wait for the introductions.
“What part of LA are you motherfuckers that you can’t find your own pussy?” I growl.
Their mouths stay open. Their eyes get wider. It’s not so much the question that throws them off. It’s the crazy glint in my eyes. I’m looking for an excuse to sink my fists into someone and call it self-defense for so long.
In my craziness, I don’t even take into consideration that I should restrain myself, especially now, that I’m not alone.
They expected the run-of-a-mill sucker who runs off, fights like a little girl or strikes a deal with them. None of it is on my list. I see the tattoos on them, and I no longer talk to the minions.
I look at their leader.
“You have no business being here, and you fucking know it. Call Torres, and tell him you crashed River Steel’s party. I can’t fucking wait to hear what he has to say. ”
Their smiles flatline. They exchange looks, but it takes too long for my taste.
“Call him!” I shout. “Do you need my fucking phone to make the fucking call?”
Their boss nods toward the car and they embark faster than I can blink. The engine revs up as the car backs away swiftly and vanishes in a cloud of dust. As the sound fades away, my phone starts buzzing. I glance at the screen.
This day can’t get any worse.