“Stay,” he said, his voice low and feral. “Or I’ll stop.”
Layla still didn’t understand why he wanted her to stay with him if he was just going to make her leave in two months. But at that point she would have agreed to anything. “Okay, I’ll stay. Don’t stop.”
“Promise me,” he said. He bit into Layla’s shoulder, just hard enough, walking that fine line between pleasure and pain. “I know you take your promises seriously.”
She did take her promises seriously, which was why she didn’t answer him, just held on tight as he stroked inside of her, hoping he’d let the matter drop.
But then he pulled all the way out, leaving her empty and aching. He took her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his intense grey eyes. “Promise me.”
She didn’t want to make the promise. But her pussy throbbed for him, her pending orgasm howled for him. And she realized at that moment Nathan wasn’t the only one who needed to be weaned off this crazy passion they shared.
“I promise,” she whispered.
He came back to her then, re-entered her, and pumped into her so hard and fast that within minutes, she could feel the orgasm coming, like a thunderous train barreling toward her.
“Yes!” she cried out, when it hit her coursing through her womb like hot lava. “Yes!”
This time she bit his shoulder as the tide of his release pulsed through him against the walls of her vagina. He shuddered against her, coming so hard, she could feel his jaw clench against her shoulder
“O mój boże!”
They both looked up to see a little old Polish lady in a grey maid’s uniform standing there. She held a paper bag filled with groceries in each hand, and the expression on her face was thoroughly scandalized.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAY what you want about the rest of the monochromatic apartment, it could not be denied that Nathan Sinclair had a lovely bathroom. The plush grey carpet went perfectly with the massive whirlpool tub/sauna combination shower and the silver-flecked wallpaper. The square-shaped toilet had a heated seat and even opened and closed on its own, requiring almost nothing of its users. The bathroom also hosted an array of places to sit, including a black velvet divan with sharp edges that ended up being surprisingly comfortable, even if you were in the fetal position.
Two hours after locking herself inside of it, Layla decided she loved this bathroom, and she just might stay there forever.
But then she remembered she’d eventually have come out, since she’d signed a contract agreeing to leave Pittsburgh in two months.
As if to remind her of this obligation, a knock sounded on the door.
“Layla, come out,” Nathan said on the other side of it.
“No, thank you,” Layla answered.
“That wasn’t a request.”
“”No, thank you anyway,” Layla shifted on the couch to face the door. “By the way, what does ‘oi moi boze’ mean?”
Pause. “I think it means ‘Oh, my God’ in Polish.”
She groaned, a new wave of embarrassment crashing over her as she curled back up on the divan.
“You really do need to come out. For one thing you ran into the wrong bathroom, and I’d like to use my own toilet.”
Of course, he’d be less concerned with her embarrassment and more concerned with his boundaries. Layla didn’t even feel bad when she answered, “No, I’ve talked to your toilet and it says it likes me better. Use your guest bathroom.”
“Fine, I’ll just tell Lucynka that she’ll have to stay late because you won’t let her in there to clean.”
Layla cringed at the thought of putting his maid out even further than she already had. “Can’t you just tell her to skip the bathroom today?”
“Yeah, I could, but I’m an asshole, so I won’t.”
When they weren’t having mind-blowing sex, Layla really didn’t like Nathan Sinclair. Really, really didn’t like him. She thought about standing her ground—or in this case—his divan, but her honor reflex was already starting to sound the alarm in the back of her brain.
“Can you at least give me my scrubs?” she asked. “I can’t walk out there naked.”
“I have them right here. Just open the door.”
She sighed, but nonetheless got up and cracked open the door.
Nathan stood there, now fully dressed in grey slacks and a black button up shirt. He must have at least used his guest bathroom to shower, then.
He held up a bag with the name of a store she didn’t recognize emblazoned across the front of it.
“What’s that?”
“Something to wear. Kate dropped it off. The scrubs were nice before I discovered what was under them, but now I’d prefer to see you in something else.”
Really, really, really don’t like him, she thought. Nonetheless, clothes were clothes. She opened the door just wide enough to snatch the bag from him and closed it again.
Kate might be as cold as her boss, but she had great taste. Layla discovered this after showering and pulling on the strapless purple sundress. It was made out of a comfortable, soft material that felt like jersey but didn’t look like it, and it fit perfectly over the matching strapless lace demi-bra and panty set Kate had also included in the bag.
Layla eventually emerged from the bathroom, freshly scrubbed with her hair finger combed into a less wild version of the bedhead she’d been sporting when she ran into the bathroom. She took a deep, steadying breath, and crossed the loft to face Lucynka.
But all she found was Nathan at his desk, working on a business document.
He looked up from his computer as she approached. “Much better,” he said, his eyes darkening with approval as they ran up and down her body.
She could feel her breasts swell in response to his gaze. How did he do that, she wondered. Make her want to slap him one moment, and desire him the next? Maybe this was how he handled all his women, she thought, by confusing them with hate and sex until they just gave in and agreed to whatever he wanted like she had.
“Where’s Lucynka?” she asked, finding she’d rather face his maid than think too hard about the effect Nathan had on her.
“Oh, I sent her home right after you ran into the bathroom.”
Layla gasped. “You told me I was keeping her from doing her job.”
He smirked. “Yes, well, I had to get you out of there somehow, didn’t I?”
Layla chewed on her lip. “Did you at least apologize before you sent her away?”
He arched an eyebrow at her and leaned back in his chair. “Her apology was getting paid a day’s wages without having to do a day’s work.”
And the switch inside her heart flipped to off again. “Money doesn’t solve everything, you know. Sometimes a sincere apology is actually in order.”
He stared at her blankly as if she were speaking another language.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll apologize to her myself tomorrow.”
“You’re getting all worked up again,” he said. “Layla, come here.”
He patted his lap, but she stayed where she was.
“Are you going to boss me around like this for the next two months?”
He threw her a thin smile and answered. “Yes.”
“Because I don’t think I’m going to like it.”
“Oh, you’ll like it,” he said.
“I mean would it kill you to say please?”
A pause of consideration on his part. “Layla, come here. Please.”
Somehow, his “please” did not sound anything like a request. But he had said it, so Layla went over and sat herself down gingerly on his knee, holding her back straight and as much of her body away from him as possible.
“Look,” he said. “You can be as nice as you want to Lucynka tomorrow, but until then, can Bad Layla come out to play?”
“Bad Layla,” she repeated. The moniker sent a weird shiver through her. “I’m not sure if I know her.”
“Oh, I think you do,” he murmured. “Bad La
yla was wet for me, even before I put my fingers inside her. Bad Layla plans to have a lot of fun with me over the next two months, and Bad Layla isn’t afraid to touch me.”
Her throat suddenly felt very dry, like a desert. “I’m not afraid to touch you,” she said.
“See if you can touch me first then, without a command.”
Somehow, this sounded less like an insult and more like an invitation. One she had been waiting for, without knowing she needed it.
She tentatively moved forward, allowing her thigh to rest against his cock, which she could feel become hard as soon as she made contact. But he remained still, saying nothing, only observing her. After a great deal of hesitation, she leaned forward, tilted her head, and connected her lips to his.
She waited for him to plunge his tongue into her mouth as he had before, but he didn’t. He didn’t even wrap his arms around her waist. He just returned her soft, closed-mouth kiss, with his arms at his sides.
So she slipped her tongue between his lips, slowly tangling it with his, her heart cheering when he let out a groan of approval.
Something brazen rose up in Layla and she palmed his dick through his pants before unzipping and unfastening them. Her hand sought him out through the folds in his briefs, and when she found what she was looking for, she guided it out, thrilling when his penis sprang to attention, ready for action, ready for her.
“These are expensive pants, aren’t they?” she said, stroking him up and down. “You’re always so careful about folding them. You never just toss them on the floor.”
“Well, when you import your wardrobe from Europe, you become a little reluctant about tossing it on the ground.”
“Hmm,” she said, biting her lip. “I just wonder if you’re going to be upset about your imported pants when I cream all over them.”
His cock practically jumped in her hand, and that made Layla even bolder. Despite her and Nathan’s many differences, she had never felt this comfortable with a man before, especially not when it came to sex. For as long as she could remember, she’d been a shy lover, feeling more awkward than anything whenever she went to bed with someone she was dating. But it felt like she could tell Nathan anything, talk as dirty as she wanted to him, and it would only make him like her that much more.
“Layla, if you keep on touching me and talking to me like that, I’m going to come right here and ruin both your dress and my pants.”
She let go of his long, thick penis and knelt down in front of him. “Then I should probably swallow when I do this, huh?”
She took him in her mouth, running her tongue around his thick knob at the end, before she started to stroke him again, this time with her mouth.
He breathed in a sharp intake of air. “Layla,” he said. “You drive me crazy.”
Layla was no porn star, but she was acting like one at the moment. He tasted so good, like mint and musk, and something so undeniably male. It sent her pheromones racing, and she sucked and licked him until he came with a grunt inside her mouth at which point she swallowed every last drop of his salty release.
But afterwards, she couldn’t help but notice, “You’re still hard.”
He ran a hand over her hair. “Yes, sometimes that happens.” He looked her in the eyes. “With you.”
She reached for the drawer where she knew he kept the condoms and pulled out one foil package, which she ripped open before slipping the rubber over him with quick and efficient movements.
He nodded his head at her. “You’re good at that.”
“Back in Dallas, I used to volunteer with a program that taught sex education to young adults. You wouldn’t believe how many cucumbers I’ve practiced on.”
Amusement lit his gaze, “So this is your final exam then?”
She shimmied out of her dress and panties, leaving them in a pool on the floor. “Exactly. Wait until you see what I have planned for the big essay question.”
Without further ado, she climbed into his lap and straddled him. She took his sheathed member in her hand and guided it into her hot, slick tunnel, loving the feel of him as he stretched her, inch by inch, until she had worked her way to his balls.
“Let me know my grade when we’re done,” she whispered. Then she began moving on top of him.
He grasped her hips, keeping her rhythm steady, as the fire started building up again inside of both of them. “I can already tell you it’s an A-plus.”
***
“We can’t hide in here forever,” Layla said to him two days later. The sun had risen and set, but they were still in bed, having succumbed to an afternoon nap after an impromptu bout of sex after lunch.
“We’re not hiding,” Nathan said, his eyes still closed, though he was obviously awake now. “We’re taking a nap.”
Layla hesitated, but decided to go over to Nathan’s side of the bed anyway and snuggle her head into his shoulder. So far she hadn’t tried this with him. Nathan didn’t exactly scream “likes to snuggle.” But he surprised her by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in closer to the warmth of his body, as if he had been waiting for her to come to him all along.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmured against her forehead.
“I can’t. I’m hungry for something other than cold cuts.”
“We’ll order takeout tonight.”
“And I should go check on my apartment. It’s been forty-eight hours.”
“Kate stopped by this morning, and she said the door’s been fixed.”
She laid a hand on his chest. “Could you please stop asking your assistant to do things that are way outside of her job description for me?”
“Her job description is doing whatever I want her to do.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure she didn’t go to college to do things like calling in sick for me three days in a row, bringing me new clothes everyday that I don’t even get to really use, because you’re so frisky, and now checking on my apartment.”
“I tell you what,” he said. “If you lie here quietly, I’ll give you her address and you can send her a thank you card.”
Which reminded her, she still needed to get his brother’s contact information. She had tried calling him at Sinclair Industries when Nathan had been in the shower the day before, but had been told he was taking a sabbatical until early September, which meant she’d need to visit him at his home. Wherever his home was.
She had tried accessing his brother’s information on Nathan’s laptop, but had found it set on a lock screen when she opened it. And when she had asked to use his computer to check her email, he’d logged her onto a blank guest screen that didn’t provide any link to his contact list.
She had hopes for getting the information off of Nathan’s smartphone, but he took the dang thing with him everywhere, even into the bathroom. No, she had to leave Nathan’s loft and do some deeper research if she wanted to find his brother before her time in Pittsburgh ran out.
“I can’t keep calling in sick,” she said. “Also, I should start getting ready to leave.”
“You don’t need two months for that.”
“Sure I do,” she said. “I’ve got to hand in my notice at work.”
“It’s called ‘two weeks notice’ not two months.”
“Maybe in corporate America, but I want to give them as much time as possible to find a replacement for me. Also, I need to tell my landlord I’m leaving, break my lease, and figure out where I’m moving to.”
He stiffened. “Okay, you can leave in the morning. Let’s talk about something else.”
Layla shifted in his arms. “Nathan?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you make me sign that contract if you don’t want me to leave?”
“It’s not about what I want,” he answered. “It’s about what I need. I need you gone.”
“Why?” she asked. “Because of what I did? Whatever that was?”
“Because of what will happen if you stay.”
“What will happen if I stay?”
He turned to face her then, his grey eyes so icy, her first instinct was to shrink away. But as if sensing her inclination, he cupped a hand around the back of her neck, keeping her there. “We’re not going to find out,” he said, his voice harder than steel.
Then he let her go, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and picked up his smartphone. “What do you want Kate to order for us? Indian or Italian?”
“Indian, please,” she answered, trying to keep her voice light.
But inside she felt her resolve becoming just as hard as his voice had been a few moments ago. She might be leaving town in two months, but before she did, she would find Andrew Sinclair.
And she would get her answers.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LAYLA soon discovered that finding out where a rich person lived was a lot more involved than doing a simple web search. She spent a week scouring the internet during her lunch hours, before she gave up and decided to hire a private detective to investigate.
The first detective she called asked her to say her name again after she introduced herself and then to spell it. After a bit of typing, he told her he didn’t have any availability until September.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said. “Could you refer me to another P.I. Someone who might be available?”
“I don’t think you’re going to find anybody,” he said. “Summer’s awful busy.”
And he’d been right. Every single P.I. she’d called informed her that he or she didn’t have any availability until September, even the ones who worked for agencies told her no one was available until September.
But by the sixth no, she became suspicious. She asked her co-worker Carol to call the first P.I. pretending to be a suspicious wife, and he told Carol for a small retainer, he could start working on the case as early as the following week.
“Why you snake in the grass!” Carol put him on speaker phone, and held up her cell so they could both hear. “You just told my friend you didn’t have any availability until September.”
“Whose your friend?” the detective asked.
The Owner of His Heart Page 7