But he is with a woman!
It takes a few seconds for that to sink in. But when it does—fucking hell!—I feel like the biggest fool this side of the equator. There was nothing between us after all. It was all in my imagination. I was wrong again. Just as I was wrong about Lupo. Without looking directly into his eyes, my eyes slide away to her.
She is voluptuous and hauntingly exotic with creamy skin, blue-black hair, either green or hazel eyes (it’s impossible to tell under the club’s lights), and high cheekbones that give her a feline appearance. She is wearing a short black dress that can barely contain her curves, and she has her hand possessively curved around BJ’s arm. Her nails are long and red and she is running them lightly along the inside of his forearm in a way that is profoundly sexual. I find the sight so disturbing I have to drop my head and stare into my drink.
‘Layla,’ BJ says by way of greeting.
‘Hi,’ I reply brightly, looking up, but not letting my eyes rise past his mouth. He has a sexy mouth. The lower lip is so deliciously plump it makes you want to nibble it. Jeez. How much champagne have I had? I return my eyes to my drink. Five glasses.
To my horror Ria invites BJ to sit with us. She slides closer to me, and motions for me to scoot up further along the seat. The space she’s freeing up does not seem big enough for him. Fortunately, he tells us that he’s not staying. I look up with relief.
Big mistake.
He is staring at me and I am suddenly caught in his stare, unable to look away. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. There is a curse word stuck behind my teeth. My skin comes alive and my heart dances in my chest.
‘Layla. Isn’t that an Arabic name that means the dark of the night?’ the woman he is with asks with a fake-ass smile.
Before I can answer BJ speaks up. ‘No, the real Arabic translation of Layla means that light, giddy feeling one has after the first drink of the night. Not drunk but on the way to being there. It is the beginning of intoxication.’
My breath catches in my throat. I stare at him shocked. The way he said Layla had been a sultry caress.
The woman laughs, a hostile, angry sound. ‘Well, Arabic names on non-Arabs is a bit silly, really.’
‘I can’t imagine a more suitable name for her,’ BJ says, his coal black eyes never leaving mine.
Flustered by the look in his eyes, I stand up in a rush. His gaze drops to my navel. His lust is so blatant, fiery heat rushes up my neck and into my face.
‘Excuse me. I need to nip over to the ladies,’ I tell the girls as I slide out of the banquette seat.
I feel his eyes burning into my back as I leave the sectioned-off area.
I stand in front of the mirror and stare at myself. There are two spots of high color on my cheeks, my hair is an untidy mess, and my beret is no longer set at its jaunty angle. Someone has stepped on the side of one of my beautiful new boots and there is a brown mark on it. I pull out some paper towels from the dispenser, wet them, and try to clean it off, but I have to give up without much success.
The weird thing is, I am doing all these things on autopilot. Some part of my brain is going crazy. He came with another woman. It rankles. But then he goes on about my name and looks at me as if he wants to eat me. What’s he playing at? Is there or isn’t there something between us I run my fingers through my hair, apply a new layer of lip gloss and exit the toilets. As I walk along the frosted glass corridor a large hand reaches out from the darkness and slams me against an unyielding body.
TWELVE
Layla
What if we kiss? What then?
My breasts are crushed against his hard muscles, but I don’t attempt to struggle. I have grown up with three brothers so I know how useless it is to fight with people who are bigger and stronger than you are. Instead I fix him with a venom-filled glare. He brought a fucking woman with him.
‘Let go of me.’
‘Scared?’ he taunts, his voice rich and smooth.
‘Of you?’ I scoff sarcastically, as if even the idea is incredible.
He laughs. It comes from somewhere deep inside him, a wicked rumble. But I like it. I like it a lot.
‘Yeah me,’ he says. ‘I like to tie girls up and suck their pussies until they scream.’
I feel my belly contract. How different this laughing man is from the one who shared a flame with me outside the barn. ‘Oh, you are disgusting.’
He holds me at arm’s length and lets his eyes travel down, deliberately lingering on my breasts before coming to a stop at my bare belly.
‘Will you freaking stop staring at me like that?’
He grins and a dimple pops up in his chin. It makes him look edible. ‘If you don’t want men to look at you like that, why do you dress like that?’
‘You’re an asshole, you know?’ I huff.
‘And you’re seriously fuckin’ hot.’
My eyes widen. ‘Are you fucking serious?’ I gasp.
‘My balls are already aching.’
‘I don’t believe this.’
‘What sounds do you make when you come?’
‘What?’ I sputter. This is too much. It’s outrageous. He’s flirting with me and he has a woman waiting for him upstairs. What an arrogant bastard. ‘How dare you?’
He smiles slowly. The slowest smile I’ve seen in my entire life. ‘If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna assume you want me to find out for myself.’
My palm swings upwards furiously, but his hand shoots out and catches it. Bending my fingers inwards he lifts my knuckles up to his lips. I try to jerk my wrist away, but it doesn’t move at all. My breathing is erratic and my lips are trembling.
He smiles down at me, his eyes black and frighteningly unknowable.
‘You want to expend some energy, wildcat? Give me your address and I’ll come around later.’
My chest puffs out. My blood is pounding with fury and lust. I feel as if I am about to explode in his face. I don’t know why this man can get me in this state with just the lift of an eyebrow. I shake my head. ‘I can’t decide if you are thick or just plain stupid. Read my lips. I. Don’t. Want. You.’
‘My, my, what a little liar you are. That’s not at all what your delectable body is telling mine.’ He runs a callused finger along the bare skin of my arm. It is not a particularly intimate or sexy move, but the way he does it makes me shiver. I freeze and hold my breath. When he reaches my wrist, he catches it and brings it up to his nose.
‘You’ve never changed your perfume, have you?’ His voice is quiet, reflective, but there are black fires burning in his eyes.
My breath comes out in a whoosh. He noticed! I don’t tell him that this perfume was the last gift from my father. I had come back from a day of horse riding and my father had given me the box and said, ‘A flower shouldn’t smell like a d
onkey.’
‘It suits you,’ he says, looking at me as if he is drinking me in. I stare up at him stupidly. I am very tall but even in my high-heeled boots he still makes me feel tiny.
The music changes. Chris Isaak’s sex anthem, Wicked Game, comes on.
‘They’re playing our song, Layla,’ he says in a smoky drawl.
‘We don’t have a song,’ I tell him, but my voice is weak
His eyes gleam with amusement. He bends his head and I jerk back. ‘Who told you that?’ he whispers, so close to my ear I feel his breath hot and smelling of mints.
Deftly, he whirls me around twice so I am suddenly thrust onto the edge of the dance floor. Isaak’s yearning vocals fill the air and I feel something melt inside me. The pulsating bodies around us melt away and we are inside the sexy black-and-white Herb Ritts video. A dreamy place where everything happens in slow motion and I am frolicking with the most gorgeous man on earth.
When Isaak’s voice slithers, ‘What a wicked game you played to make me feel this way.’ I feel as if BJ is singing it to me. His arms envelop my body tightly, we fit together perfectly. We stare into each other’s eyes. Lost in the dream world he has created, I lace my fingers around the back of BJ’s powerful neck. The thick muscles contract under my hands. My fingers sweep and tangle in his hair.
‘I’d never dreamed I’d love somebody like you’.
I rest my cheek on his chest and listen to the swaggering, strut-worthy tempo of his heart. Everything about him is so macho. Even his heartbeat has attitude. I close my eyes. His intentions are delicious and unapologetically impolite. I don’t want to admit it, but some part of me aches for him.
‘No IIIIIII don’t want to fall in love… with you.’
He lifts me by my waist. I don’t scream or yelp. My brothers have been doing it to me for years. When my throat is at his mouth level, he kisses it and I throw my head back and shudder at the warmth. He carries me higher still. I place my palms on his massive shoulders and look down on him. He stares at me, his eyes black and voracious. Slowly he twirls me. Round and round. Our eyes lock on each other. Then he moves his head forward and licks my belly button, like an animal. The carnality of the gesture makes me gasp.