“Eighties as in Air Supply and Wham?” Layla crinkled her nose in distaste, as Tommy shot her a look of mock outrage.
“Eighties as in the Smiths and the Clash.” He came to stand beside her, and when his arm inadvertently brushed against hers as he leaned toward the stack, the brief moment of contact was all it took to send a jolt of electricity spinning through her veins. “Hatful of Hollow.” He w
aved the album before her. “Do you know it?”
Layla squinted, fought to gain control of herself.
“Trust me.” He pressed his lips together as he placed it onto the stereo deck and dropped the needle on the first track. “You will not be disappointed.”
A burst of static filled the room, soon followed by a hauntingly mournful voice as Tommy headed back to the kitchen to fetch them some water. He handed her a bottle, then settled onto the couch and motioned for her to join him. Overcome with an unexplainable bout of shyness, she sipped and ate in an odd, nervous silence.
“Layla . . . ,” Tommy started, his voice thick, hoarse, the sound of it causing her belly to flutter as she lifted her chin and studied his face, waiting for the words that would follow. His questioning gaze held hers, the moment seeming to unravel slowly, and the next thing she knew Tommy was kissing her.
Or maybe she was kissing Tommy.
It was impossible to tell who really started it.
All she knew for sure was that his body was warm and strong and felt like it was meant to be pressed against hers.
It was nothing like the last time they’d kissed. Sure, they were both fueled by tequila, but there was no more denying she’d been attracted to Tommy from the first day they’d met. No more denying she wanted him now just as much as she’d wanted him then—back when she was still dating Mateo. If that made her a horrible person, so be it. If it made her disloyal like her mom, well, at least she got it honestly. Despite the alcohol, they were two consenting adults, and Layla was ready to consent to anything Tommy was willing to do.
His mouth moved hungrily over hers before abandoning her lips in favor of her neck. His lips nipping, tasting, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake as his hands moved over her snug off-the-shoulder dress and tugged it down to her waist.
He gazed at her appreciatively. “God, you’re so beautiful . . . so perfect.” He dipped his head low to kiss her there too, as Layla arched to meet him. Her fingers pulling at his belt and unzipping his jeans, she swung a leg over his hip and straddled him at the waist, when he suddenly stopped, clasped her hands in his, and repeated her name. “Layla . . .” His voice was breathless, eyes glazed, as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Is this really about being with me—or is it about being against someone else?”
She frowned, moved to kiss him again, but when he pulled away, she glared and said, “What are you talking about? Why are you doing this?”
“I saw Mateo with Heather and—”
“And you’re afraid you might be a rebound?” Her face was incredulous.
“I’m afraid you’re trying to exorcise the memory of him through me. And I just want you to be sure you really want this. That you won’t end up regretting it, or worse, blaming me or hating me.”
At first she was furious—why did he have to wreck the moment by talking about logical things that might very well be true but that she absolutely, positively did not want to think about? But once she’d had a chance to digest the words, the anger seeped right out of her.
“Truth?” She exhaled. “I don’t know, but I’m not sure it matters. We’re over. Mateo and I are over. Which means I’m free to move on.”
“But are you over him?”
Layla studied the paint on the wall just before her, unsure what to say. “It was a bit of a shock to see him with her, I’m not gonna lie. Still, Mateo and I weren’t really as compatible as you might think.”
“And we are?”
“Most of the time I hate you.” She laughed. “But you are a pretty good kisser, so . . .”
“Pretty good? That’s it?”
She shrugged, folded her arms to cover herself.
“Can I get an excellent?”
“You can certainly try.” She cocked her head and arced her brow high. “But that’ll require you to stop talking.” She flashed him a flirtatious grin and leaned in to kiss him.
He met the kiss eagerly, his hands at her back, and crushed her body to his. “One more thing . . .” His lips moved against hers. “I like you. Which is why I want to make sure we’re on the same page. I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”
“Look,” she huffed, quickly losing patience. Either they were going to do this, or they weren’t going to do this. And if they weren’t, she’d just as soon leave. She had no interest in talking. Not about this. “You’re not allowed to have a girlfriend, and it just so happens, I’m not looking for a boyfriend. So why can’t we enjoy ourselves and see where we land?”
Calling an end to the argument, Layla reached for him again and Tommy made no move to stop her. She kissed him hard, exploring, tasting, her tongue melding with his. She nipped at his full bottom lip, a little harder than he’d expected, but Layla just grinned and pulled him back to her. And this time, when she tugged at his jeans, he did nothing to stop her.