Alex nodded but didn’t say a word. Both he and Heather had advised Rashad to call, but he hadn’t heeded their advice.
“You gave her a week. It hasn’t been a week yet,” Alex pointed out.
“Damn near,” Rashad muttered.
She wanted him, of that he was certain. She kissed him with the same energy that he kissed her. Would that be enough?
Alex ran his fingers through his hair, a sure indication that he was about to say something Rashad wouldn’t like. “It’s going to take time to convince Layla to get back involved with you. Think about your breakup from her point of view. For months the two of you were going along fine, spending a lot of time together. Then one day you decide that you want to slow down.”
“I understand that, but I didn’t want our relationship to end,” Rashad said defensively.
As he strolled back to the chair, his phone rang. He picked it up from the table beside the empty bottle of beer. Not recognizing the number, he intended to ignore it, but at the last second decided to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Rashad.” Layla.
His eyes found Alex’s, and he pointed to the phone. It’s her, he mouthed.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked.
“Sure.” A minute. An hour. Ten hours. He had however much time she needed.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said last week, and I’ve decided that you’re right. We are good together. Explosively good.”
Stunned, all Rashad could get out was one word. “Okay.”
“I want to start seeing you again.”
“Okay,” he said again. Hell yeah!
“Could we meet sometime, when you’re free?”
“I’m free right now,” he said, picking up his keys.
“You want to meet tonight?” She sounded surprised.
“Yes. How about that tapas place near your loft in fifteen minutes?” He couldn’t wait to see her. Excitement was already beating through his blood.
“I’m not at home. I’m in the car. I left Ethan’s a few minutes ago.”
“I’m not at home, either. I’m at Alex’s. Want to meet somewhere else?”
“Um, sure. How about that restaurant in Decatur, the one that serves the strong drinks and has outdoor seating?”
“Eli’s?”
“Yes.”
“I can meet you at the bar in thirty minutes,” Rashad said.
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
He hung up. Unable to help himself, he grinned, harder than he had in a week. “Looks like your boy is back in play after all. She wants to meet and talk about us getting back together.”
“She said that?” Alex said, sounding and looking surprised.
“Pretty much.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah. I better get out of here. Wish me luck.”
“Buena suerte,” Alex said as Rashad rushed through the door.
6
Sipping a cosmopolitan at the bar, Layla waited impatiently for Rashad to arrive. Though she hadn’t anticipated having this conversation so soon, on the ride to the restaurant she ran through how to present her idea to him in a matter-of-fact manner.
Still, she was nervous. Her call to him had been impulsive, and she wished she’d had a chance to discuss her decision in detail with her girlfriends, but Rashad’s request to meet tonight had taken her by surprise and squashed her decision to wait. That was probably for the best. She needed to get this done, and besides, she didn’t think he’d turn her down.
When Rashad arrived, her gaze lingered on his long legs in worn jeans and the span of his shoulders beneath a striped sweater.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He sat down and twisted so they were facing each other, one arm resting on the bar.
It was late, and most of the guests were in the dining room, so the bar was fairly quiet and conversation would be easy. Only one guy sat on a stool at the end, looking like he was drowning his sorrows in the beer before him. A couple sat with their heads bent together at one of the bistro tables.
The bartender came over, a lively blonde with a ring in her nose. “What can I get for you?” she asked Rashad.
“Coke, light ice,” he replied.
“A Coke?” Layla said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
“I already had a few drinks at Alex’s.”
The bartender placed a glass with a straw in front of Rashad.
“How is he?”
She was simply making polite conversation because she didn’t know Alex well and met him only one time, when she stopped by their office. Rashad had talked about Alex to her, so she’d been excited when she ran into both of them in the lobby of Newmark Advisors and Rashad introduced them. Unfortunately, she’d gotten the distinct impression that he hadn’t wanted them to meet. He’d come across hesitant and brisk, and had all but shoved her into the elevator after thanking her for lunch. She’d said goodbye, feeling as if she’d overstepped her bounds, crushed that once again he was obviously shutting her out of part of his life.
“Fine. He got married.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Sherry, from the office.”
“She’s one of your financial advisors, right?” She vaguely remembered him mentioning her name before.
He nodded, his eyes trained on her face.
Layla took a swallow of her drink, taking solace in the effect of the cool liquid wetting her parched tongue. She’d expected the small talk to break the tension between them, but instead it placed a strain on the air and raised the temperature in the room.
“Well, I guess we better get to the reason why we’re here,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear.
“You don’t have to feel awkward or nervous, Layla. We know each other, and we can go slowly, if you like—ease back into the relationship.”
Oh boy, she better hurry up and explain what exactly she had in mind before he said anymore.
“Actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about—the terms of our new relationship.”
Frown lines appeared in his brow. “Terms?”
“Yes. It’s true that I wanted to meet with you about us getting back together. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss we shared the other day.”
“Me, either.” His voice dropped low and melted over her like warm honey, heat sparking in his eyes.
Layla rushed on before he got carried away. “The sex was always—”
“Spectacular.”
Her inner thighs tightened, and she laughed softly. “Yes, that would be one way of describing it.”
“You disagree?”
“Honestly, no. Which is why I called you.” She nervously licked her lips. “Rashad, I’m not interested in being your girlfriend again, but you’re right, I do miss… it.”
His face blanked.
“If you’re not seeing anyone, and I’m not seeing anyone, maybe we could… hook up every now and again,” Layla said.
He blinked, coming out of the temporary daze cast by her words. “You mean like… fuck buddies?”
“That’s a crude way of saying it, but, yes,” Layla answered, shifting in her chair.
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Are you messing with me?”
“No, I’m not,” she assured him. True enough, a purely sexual relationship was outside her character, but he didn’t have to act so surprised.
“You’re serious?” he asked.
“Yes. What’s wrong with my idea? You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but not with—” He stopped abruptly and chugged some Coke. Then he set down the glass. “I’ve had casual sexual partners before, no doubt, but I thought this conversation was going in a different direction.”
“Maybe I should have told you what I was thinking when I called, but it didn’t feel right making my offer over the phone. I hope you don’t feel like I brought you here under false pretenses.”
He
kept his gaze on her as he twisted the glass on the bar top. “Not at all.”
His gaze dropped to the round neckline of her blouse. She was completely covered, yet he looked at her as if she were partially undressed.
“So, do you accept, or do you need time to think about it?”
Rashad sat back. “I don’t need time. The answer is yes.”
Layla released a relieved breath, suddenly very aware of how much she’d wanted him to agree despite believing that he would.
“Good,” she continued. “If we do this, we need some rules.” Settling into the idea, she spoke calmly, as if they were discussing the weather.
“Let’s hear them.”
“First of all, we’re not dating. This isn’t a repeat of our previous relationship, and I want to make that clear. We’re seeing each other until we each meet someone else that we’re more compatible with.”
Rashad rubbed a hand over his jaw as he mulled her words. “Okay.”
“No spending the night at each other’s house.”
“Come on, now.”
“Sleeping over promotes intimacy, which promotes feelings. Remember, this is sex-only.”
“What if it’s raining?”
“Get an umbrella.”
“I’m talking about you. I wouldn’t want you to go out in a storm in the middle of the night when you could sleep at my place.”
“I’ll be fine, I won’t melt,” Layla said dryly.
His lips tightened with displeasure. “Anything else?”
“No calls after midnight. That’s basically a booty call, and—”
“If we’re entering a sex-only relationship, every call is a booty call.”
“True, but late-night calls could lead to staying overnight, which means intimacy, and this is—”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Sex-only.” He drained his glass and slammed it on the bar.
Clearing her throat, Layla asked, “Do you have any rules?”
He watched her in silence, and she fought the urge to squirm.
“One,” Rashad said. “You’re not allowed to screw anyone else while we’re seeing each other.”
She hadn’t even considered sleeping with another man while with Rashad. He could more than satisfy her needs, but she didn’t dare let him know her thoughts. He didn’t need any more ego stroking.
“Not a problem. Neither are you,” she said.
“Fine by me.”
“Okay, well, I guess we’re done here.”
“I guess so.”
Layla stood and reached into her purse, but before she could pay for her drink, Rashad also stood and dropped a few bills between their glasses.
As he towered over her in the tight space between the two stools, she drew a sharp breath.
“When?”
“When what?” She tipped her head back to gaze up into his black eyes. The two earrings glinted against his dark skin.
Rashad cupped her chin, the gentle hold wreaking havoc on her skin. Staring intently into her eyes, he asked, “When can I make love to you again?”
Layla almost melted on the spot.
“How about next weekend?” she suggested, her voice sounding tinny. “Because of Mother Nature, I’m out of commission for the next few days.”
“Guess I’ll have to wait until next weekend, then. Is the number you called me from your new number?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now I know how to reach you.” Rashad bent his head and connected their lips.
The kiss was hard but gentle and prompted a soft whimper from her throat. She tasted the sweetness of the Coke and sweetness of his mouth. As his left arm circled her waist and his right hand cupped her jaw, heat slithered over her skin like a warm blanket. She took the liberty of resting her hand against his chest and letting her thumbnail scrape his nipple. It was his turn to groan, and she exulted in the sound, anticipating the moment in the not-too-distant future when she could see him lose complete control.
Rashad didn’t make much noise when they made love, but when he came, it was a sight to behold. He cursed worse than a sailor, gritted his teeth, and pounded the bed when he climaxed. Watching him lose control was its own kind of aphrodisiac, and if not for being on her period, she’d go to his condo right now to watch the whole scene play out.
Rashad released her lips, and his warm breath kissed her throbbing mouth when he spoke. “I’ll walk you out.”
He escorted her to her white Cadillac SUV, which was parked on a side street.
Layla popped the locks and turned to face him. Under his watchful gaze, she tingled all over. “I’ll call you.”
“Do that.”
He kissed her again, pressing her into the cool steel of the car. She found comfort in the steady beating of his heart against hers, and felt every inch of him—his chest, his powerful legs, and the hardness between his thighs.
Damn her period. Damn, damn, damn.
Rashad stepped back. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Layla replied breathlessly. She slid behind the wheel and drove off, shivering through the chills of excitement that rolled through her body.
Rashad watched Layla’s tail lights disappear around the corner, then he strolled to where his car was parked on the other side of the court house square.
Layla had changed, that was for sure. The woman who’d wanted commitment and asked him to share more of himself was now willing to have a purely sexual relationship. Shocking.
Unlike her, he’d had plenty of experience with those kinds of relationships, though he’d never had such a clinical discussion about the parameters before. In those types of arrangements, he typically juggled multiple sexual partners, as did the women he was involved with. They were open and honest, each person entering into the casual relationship with their eyes wide open. In Layla’s case, he was not having that. He couldn’t. Besides, she was more than enough to satisfy him.
He climbed into his Porsche and sat there for a minute, already anticipating having her back in his bed. Losing Layla Fleming had been the biggest mistake he’d ever made. He was pretty sure she was the only woman he’d come close to loving—as close as he could possibly come to romantic love.
Now he was about to have exactly what he wanted in the first place—Layla exclusively his without all the trappings of a serious relationship.
Rashad smiled as he started the car. The best of both worlds.
Life was good.
7
The bowling alley downtown contained a festive atmosphere, with blaring party music and groups of friends screaming and cheering each other on.
Layla tossed the ball down the alley, and as it veered left, she angled her body to the right, as if she could telepathically force it to go down the middle.
No such luck. The ball plopped into the gutter like the one before it. She didn’t hit a single pin.
“Have you actually gotten worse?” Tamika, one of her best friends teased. She wore tight jeans with her short pixie styled in cute waves.
“Shut. Up,” Layla said, holding her head high as she marched back to her seat.
Dana, her other best friend, giggled at their antics. Full-figured, with waist-length dreadlocks and two rings in her nose, she ate a late dinner of fries and chicken tenders at the table behind the chairs. Stabbing the fries, she dipped them in ketchup on the side of the plate.
“You’re not much better,” she told Tamika.
Tamika, headed to pick up a ball, curled one hand behind her back and shot Dana a backhanded bird. As Layla and Dana laughed, she picked up a ball at the return and then smoothly sent it rolling down the alley. It crashed into the pins and knocked over six of them.
Dana and Layla cheered and clapped while Tamika did a victory dance. With focused concentration, she took her second turn and knocked down an additional two pins. Despite Dana’s teasing, Tamika ended the game as the winner, leading Dana by three points.
Dana tossed her empty plate into the trash and plopped
down in front of the computer. “One more game?”
Tamika picked up her phone and checked the time, the diamond ring on her left hand picking up the overhead light. “Anton’s playing pool with his friends until eleven, so I’m good for another hour. Then I’m going home to my fiancé.”
“Do you have to say ‘my fiancé’ every time?” Dana asked.
In the chair next to Layla, Tamika glowed as she flashed a smile that extended from ear to ear. “Yes, because I like the sound of it.”
Tamika and Anton had gotten engaged last fall and were actively house-hunting while also making preliminary plans for their wedding. The happy couple had gone through a rough patch but weathered the storm together, and their young relationship became stronger as a result.
Layla still hadn’t told her girlfriends about her conversation with Rashad last night, but this lull in the game was the perfect time to do so. But first, she needed to update them on a personal matter.
“My dad started going to therapy last week, and so far so good. Mom said he’s cranky but following the doctor’s orders.”
Her father had been sideswiped in traffic a while back, a scary situation that had prompted Layla to fly to D.C. while he was hospitalized. He’d undergone surgery for a broken collarbone, but once released had also been suffering from chronic pain and stiffness in his back, knees, and neck. Since he’d healed, he was supposed to start going to a physical therapist but constantly put it off. The discomfort had finally become too much to bear, and he’d succumbed to the urging of his family and the advice of his physicians.
“And Mrs. Fleming didn’t have to put a gun to his head?” Dana asked in a dry tone.
Her friends knew how difficult her father could be. She’d talked about him often, plus they’d met him when they visited her family in D.C. As the head of a small but prestigious law firm he co-founded with his wife, Herschel Fleming craved control and couldn’t function well without said control. He also had a well-documented aversion to doctors.
“No,” Layla said with a laugh, “but I was planning to fly up there again and drag him to the doctor if he didn’t. Luckily I don’t have to.”
What She Deserves Page 4