He moved his hands up the inside of her shirt, finding her bare breasts and massaging them as her fingers traveled over his abdomen, making his muscles clench. She pulled hard on his belt, tugging open the buckle and unzipping his pants as he teased her brown nipples into hard peaks. She moaned, and he lifted himself to cover her mouth with his. He didn’t know how soundproof the backseat was, and while the driver probably knew what they were doing, he couldn’t bear the thought of them being overheard and then having to look the man in the eye when they got out.
She freed his cock, and it was his turn to moan. She closed her fingers around him, making a tight nest between her two hands as she stroked him up and down, moving her hips in the same rhythm. She kissed her way down his neck, and he lifted up off the seat enough to reach into his back pocket and grab a condom. If she pulled any harder against the head of him, he’d come in her hands. He pushed the condom into her waiting fingers as she loosened her grip. She still wore her pants. He moved his fingers to her jeans and undid them as she covered him. She rose onto her knees as he shimmied her pants down her hips.
No panties.
None.
He could see her pleasure glistening on her inner thighs. He moaned at the sight of her and almost cried out as she slammed herself onto him. She held on to his shoulders, sliding up one inch at a time and then grinding back down against him, a small swiveling motion of her hips and back up again.
She tugged her shirt off and tossed it aside. He dipped his head to take a bud into his mouth as she rode him with exquisite slowness. They had time. Another forty minutes, by his estimate. And he was determined to enjoy every single one.
She moved against him again, and he could feel his release building, tightening his balls. She started to moan, cresting into the waves of her orgasm, and he slid his hand up to cover her mouth as she did the same to him. She glided up and down his shaft. Faster. And then faster still until she was trying to scream around his hand. Until she bit down on the pad of his finger. The slight nip of pain sent him rocketing over the edge with her, and she slipped her thumb into his open mouth. He sucked hard on it as he exploded into her, shaking with the force of it and the need to restrain his cries of pleasure.
She licked and suckled his finger as he nibbled the pad of her thumb, his body still quivering. She raised her eyes to his and gave his pinky a kiss before moving his hand away. She pulled her thumb from the suction of his mouth and replaced it with her lips. Her kiss was sweet, tender, and he found an answering blossom in his chest. He held her close and kissed her just as gently.
LAYLA PULLED BACK from the kiss, overwhelmed. She could feel tears scalding the back of her throat, but she refused to give them permission to go any farther, to fill her eyes with their wetness. She would not cry. She lifted herself from his lap and pulled out a tissue from her purse, wrapping the used condom in its folds and putting it in the small trash bin. He smiled at her, and for a moment, she thought she would weep. Instead, she returned his smile with one of her own and pulled her jeans up, zipping them closed. The rough fabric rubbed against her still-sensitive flesh, making her sheath clench again. She grabbed her bra and shirt from the floor of the limo and put them back on. Each slide of fabric against her skin made her shiver.
He reached out to her, and she let him pull her back onto the seat beside him. She rested her head on his shoulder and handed him a tissue. He wiped himself up and closed his jeans. He shifted, and she leaned against his chest as he held her. She took a deep breath, pulling the scent of his cologne and him into her lungs. She didn’t want to give this up, but sooner or later he’d wake up and realize that she didn’t fit into his perfect little life. She’d never been the kind of girl you brought home to Mom. Mothers knew she was too wild for their sons the minute they saw her, no matter how conservatively she dressed or what she said. Somehow they always knew. Like they could smell the scent of sex all over her.
Like they knew what Layla did with their precious boys behind closed doors.
Someday he’d want to introduce her to his mother, and then it would all be over. He rubbed her shoulder and sighed, almost as if he knew the debate going on in her head. As if he knew that she would pull back and run away in the morning. She rubbed the sudden ache in her chest, and he moved away from her, looking down into her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to leave tomorrow.” Oh, God. She’d said it. She’d actually fucking said it. She pushed her lips together and blinked, then looked away. She couldn’t meet the intensity of his gaze as she told him such a raw truth. He would see right through her.
“So don’t,” he said. As if it were the easiest answer in the world. Maybe it was. But something stopped her from telling him she wouldn’t leave, from telling him she still had a contract in the city. Chicken shit. The only thing holding her back was the fear clawing her insides, and she knew it. But she couldn’t make the words come out through the hard egg in her throat. Couldn’t make herself tell him she was in serious danger of falling in love with him. If that idea scared her, it would terrify him. Maybe he’d think he was falling for her as well.
She laid her head back down on his shoulder. The silence this time did not feel comfortable, but rather strained, making it harder to lie there in the warmth of his arms and pretend that her heart wasn’t being chipped away piece by piece as she saw the entire progression of their relationship.
“I’m sorry,” he said into the silence. “That was selfish of me. I’m sure that you have a life in California. People who count on you. I know you can’t just stay in New York.” His voice came out a whisper as the car slowed to a stop.
She sat up, and he dropped his arm from her, seeming to realize she needed the space. She looked into his brown eyes, ran her hands over the soft stubble of his hair. She couldn’t tell him she might maybe love him one day, but she could tell him something. Give him something of herself before she disappeared.
“Layla,” she whispered. “My name is Layla.”
He beamed as if she’d just told him Santa Claus was real and then proved it. She could almost believe she saw something scarily close to love in his eyes before the door behind her opened and he blinked in the brightness.
She turned from him and got out. The noise from the stadium assaulted her ears. He smiled at her and grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the hordes of people.
“I’ll be here when the game is finished,” Carl said. She nodded to him and followed Tyler. Tyler and Layla. She could maybe get used to that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tyler led Layla to their seats. Layla. What a beautiful name. And all the more precious because he knew what it meant for her to share her name with him. For her to spend time with him. Someone had really screwed her up, and probably not just the married asshole who had betrayed her. Mistrust like hers started early in life. It might take him years to learn everything about her. Years for her to trust him. As she settled into the bucket seat beside him, he found that maybe wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Spending all that time getting to know her actually sounded right up his alley.
She smiled at him as he handed her a beer. She tasted it and looked around. Watching her take in her first stadium experience—the noise, the smells of hotdogs, beer, and popcorn, the sheer size of a ballpark like this one—made his heart clench hard. A mixture of curiosity and awe spread across her face. She sipped her beer and licked her lips. Apparently even someone with a well-off upbringing could appreciate the American standard of beer at a ballpark.
“So you know you’re going to have to explain everything to me like I’m a moron, right? I know nothing about this game. I couldn’t even tell you the name of a team, other than the Yankees, because, well, that name’s kind of everywhere.”
Her admission made him smile. He pointed to the field and started his lesson. “Baseball diamond.” He traced the air with his finger, then grabbed her hand. “Pitcher’s mound.” He used her hand to point, making
sure her gaze followed the movement, loving the feel of her soft, warm hand in his. “The pitcher’s the guy who throws the ball.”
“Okay…so maybe not a complete moron. I know what a pitcher is.”
He laughed and proceeded to tell her some of the game’s basics, touching her at every opportunity as he used their joined fingers to point out the plates. She listened as if she cared about what he said and not just because she wanted to humor him.
She leaned in close when he spoke. Smiled at him and laughed when he said something stupid. It was shaping up to be a great second date. They finished their drinks as the game started.
“First pitch,” he murmured as he heard the crack of the bat. “Hopefully it’ll be a nice exciting game for you.”
She nodded. “I’m sure it will be. Thanks.”
He laced his fingers with hers, then turned back to the game. The first inning went well. One to nothing, Yankees. He explained things as they happened and watched with relief as she began to take stock in the teams. She even started cheering right alongside him.
“I’ll make a Yankee fan out of you before the night’s through.”
She tapped him on the abdomen with the back of her hand and stuck out her tongue at him. So he stuck his out right back. Her eyes widened for a second, and then she laughed until she doubled over. A loud cheer rushed through the crowd as a pop fly was caught. He pulled her closed and kissed her—a searing, heart-thundering kiss that left them both breathless. Tyler broke their connection and felt heat course through him at her sexy, half-lidded gaze of desire. He looked up to see his mother at the end of the row. He held up a quick finger behind Layla’s head.
He glanced back down into Layla’s eyes. “I also have a surprise for you.” He felt her body still beneath his hands. “And it would be really good if you could not freak out about it, okay?”
“Uh, why am I going to freak out? I don’t know if I like the sound of this.” He could hear the apprehension in her voice. Shit. What if he’d screwed this up? No one had ever made him second-guess himself more than the woman sitting beside him. She had a touch of genuine fear in her eyes.
“I’ve invited someone important to the game to meet you. I know it’s too soon and it’s sudden and marginally insane, but you’re leaving, and I wanted this to happen before then. I was surprised enough when you agreed to come to the game. I didn’t want you to change your mind, so I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry for the ambush.” He shouldn’t have done it. He should have waved his mother away the minute he saw her, knowing he’d been an idiot to invite her in the first place. But the words were out now. He couldn’t take them back.
He saw her take a deep breath and try to physically relax the tension that had infused her entire body in the past three seconds. She forced a smile, and it pained him to see it there. It was the kind of blank smile you gave someone when you were trying hard to fake your cheer. He looked behind her and nodded. His mom came closer. Tyler released Layla and stood up. She stood with him and turned to face his mother, that fake smile still glued on. This was going to be a disaster.
THE WOMAN MOVING down the row toward her must be his mother. Layla knew the moment she saw the high cheekbones and warm brown eyes. Her stomach plummeted, and her smile became even more strained. She waited until his mother stood right in front of her before sticking out her hand.
“Angela,” the woman said, shaking Layla’s hand.
“Layla. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Same to you.” But Layla could see the lie on Angela’s face. His mother had no doubt witnessed their sultry kiss just a moment before.
Layla felt her cheeks heat as she moved aside so Tyler could greet his mother. What had given him the bright idea that this would make for a good evening? They barely knew each other, and now he was introducing her to his mom. Forget marginally insane. The man was nuts.
The three sat down in silence, Layla in the middle, and she found herself desperate to turn back to the game, to focus on who was up to bat and how many runners were on base. But she could feel Angela’s eyes on her. Angela smiled sweetly enough. A genuine smile.
“So this is the woman who has so enthralled my baby.”
“Mom…” Tyler’s voice was filled with agitation. Well, good. He could feel just as fucking uncomfortable as she did. It served him right.
She turned to glare at him, and he shut his mouth. She looked back at Angela.
“Yes, I suppose I am.” She settled back in the seat, refusing to slouch her shoulders or lower her head. She was past that stage in her life when she would let mothers everywhere know they made her feel inferior. The stadium around them erupted into cheers, and she died to join in, to do something, anything other than stare politely at the field. It beat looking into his mom’s eyes. Angela was shrewd, no doubt about it, and she’d see through Layla’s good-girl exterior in seconds, if she hadn’t already.
“Hmm.”
Layla could hear the reservation in the woman’s voice. Angela had already passed judgment. Damn him for doing this to them. She shook her head. No, it was important for him to see what she knew. They had no future together, though hope had again bloomed within her that once, maybe just one fucking time, someone’s mother would be able to see past her ample curves, pretty face, and “bedroom eyes” to the shrewd, smart, caring woman beneath. She resisted the urge to rub her chest or get up from the stands and run away.
This ambush was good. Being rejected by his mother would hurt; she couldn’t make herself not care, even though she pretended it didn’t matter. She needed to hear it—it would help her walk away. Make it less difficult.
Tyler grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She stiffened at the touch instead of welcoming it. Forced herself to ignore the tingling response in her skin as it touched his. He pulled her hand into his lap and used his other to lift her chin, moving her face to look at him.
“Fuck,” he whispered. His eyes held so much concern she wanted to cry. His gaze flickered over her head. “Give us a minute.”
She heard Angela get up and leave behind her without another word. He cupped her cheek in his hand, and she could feel wetness slide down from her eye. He brushed the tear away with his thumb and sighed. He pulled her closer, releasing her hand and wrapping his arms around her.
“Jeez, Layla, I’m so sorry. I knew you might not come if you thought she’d be here. I thought you might be nervous or try to run away, but jeez. Honey, I didn’t mean to upset you so much.”
“I guess I should have told you before you ambushed me that mothers don’t particularly like me.” They flat-out hated her, but she wouldn’t make the situation worse by telling him that. He felt bad enough. Really, it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know that his mother would only be able to see a slut, a woman unfit to date her son.
He held her shoulders and moved back. “Is that why you freaked out? You don’t have to worry about her liking you. I like you—that’s enough for her. But… Ah, hell, I suppose I better tell you the whole story.”
Oh, boy, how she did not like the sound of that. The guys in the row behind them stood up whooping, and to his credit, Tyler didn’t look down at the field.
“I told my mother about you. Days ago. About how we met, about how I needed to get to know you—almost everything. And so she told me I needed a big gesture. Something to show you that I wanted more—that we could have more, despite your rules and reluctance. Hence Sunday’s dinner. And then you told me you were leaving…and I, well, I panicked. I needed her to meet you, to tell me I wasn’t crazy to…to…” Oh, but he was. Freaking certifiable.
He’d told his mother how they met?
“To what?”
“To want to hop on a plane and follow you across the damned country.” He said the words in a rush and then stared at her. She couldn’t respond to that, so she focused on other things.
“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be so worried about your mother, then. She already knows I’m a slut if she knows how we met.
”
She watched confusion and then anger cross his face. She fought the urge to shrink away from that anger. She would meet it head-on like she always did.
“You’re not a slut.” He shook his head. “Jesus, that bastard really did a number on you.”
He was pissed…on her behalf? She didn’t know whether to be flattered or scared, so she settled on bewildered instead. It took her a moment to realize who he meant by “that bastard.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with him.” Well, okay, maybe a little, but she didn’t want to tell him that. “It has to do with the fact that you should have just followed my rules.” And then she wouldn’t feel so fucking exposed. Naked in a crowd of people. He’d brought his mother to meet her.
He took a deep breath and let it out, his face relaxing. A small frown still tugged his lips down, though.
“What am I going to do with you?” He gave her shoulders a little shake and leaned over to kiss her forehead. She wanted to ignore the sweet, intimate gesture but found she couldn’t. She leaned into his touch, terrified to hope. Her hands shook as she wrapped her arms around him. He rubbed her back. “I can tell her leave. She won’t mind.”
Oh, yes, she would. “No, it’s okay.” She forced herself to move away from his warm comfort and pushed back into the cool plastic chair. His mother walked through the stands toward them.
“I take it my son didn’t warn you I was coming.” Angela glared down at Tyler, and Layla felt him shift beside her under the scrutiny of the fierce look. She bit her lip so she didn’t laugh. Angela sat down and reached over Layla to smack him upside the head. “You know better than that.”
“Yes, Ma, I do.” He looked down at Layla and smiled, mischief in his eyes. “Sorry.”
This time she couldn’t stop from laughing. Angela turned to her. “So what do you say we try this one again?”
An Affair Across Times Square Page 17