“Stay, baby,” he whispers, kissing along my collarbone. “I want you to fall asleep next to me.”
“I don’t have clothes, a toothbrush, or shampoo.”
“Shops don’t close till ten.”
I close my eyes with a sigh, unable to saynoagain. “Frankie’s going to lose his mind.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dante
Layla sits on the floor in my bedroom, surrounded by ten bags filled with clothes, shoes, and cosmetics.
“Still mad?” I hand her a cup of steaming hot chocolate.
“I’m not mad. Just not happy that you didn’t let me pay.”
We argued at the till for five minutes over who’ll pay for her new clothes until she threatened to put everything back and go to Frank’s for the night. That didn’t sit well with me. I snatched the bags, paid the cashier, then dragged Layla to five more boutiques until she hit the daily spending limit on my card. She stopped waving her card around but didn’t stop huffing.
I open the walk-in closet to make some room. “Don’t take out your wallet when you’re with me. Forget you own a fucking wallet. Money is my area.”
“And what’s my area? Looking pretty? Agreeing with everything you say?”
“I’m still waiting for you to agree with me on something. Anything, really. All you do is argue.”
She rolls her eyes, placing the sweaters on a shelf. I swear she was folding them just now, but it looks as if she just threw them in there.
My OCD gets the better of me. Everything in my closet is carefully planned; shirts hang by the jackets, all color-coded. Sweaters, t-shirts, and pants are neatly folded. Not one piece of clothing is out of place.
“I like teasing you,” she says, smirking under her nose.
“Give me that.” I grab the sweaters.
“Am I disrupting your Feng Shui?”
“Sit or go take a bath.”
She hooks her thumbs in the belt buckles of my pants, rising on her toes to reach my lips. “I’m not allowed to pay; I can’t fold clothes properly...” she whispers, biting my lip. “Is there anything I do well?”
“You’re a great kisser; you smell delicious, and you’re incredible at getting on my nerves.” I slap her butt, pushing her gently toward the ensuite. She dives under my arm, snatching my white shirt off the hanger. “You bought two nightgowns, but you’ll sleep in my thousand-dollar shirt?”
“I didn’t buy those. You did. And...” She wrinkles her nose at the see-through nightdresses waiting for her on the bed, “I’ll be cold in that.”
“I’ll keep you warm. Give back the shirt.”
A mischievous grin twists her lips, and her eyes sparkle as she holds my gaze, ripping off the top button. “Oops... I don’t think you’ll wear it again. It’s no good,” she fakes a sad face. “I’ll sleep in it, baby. Okay?”
Little devil.
I grip her by the waist and throw her on the bed, hiding my face in her cleavage. Desire tingles every inch of my body when I graze my nose up the valley of her breasts, sliding my hand up her waist. “Incredible,” I whisper, ripping her blouse down the middle, exposing her stomach. “At getting on my nerves.” I kiss her ribs, inhaling her sweet scent, on the verge of bursting out of my boxers when she arches back, exhaling slowly. “You’re so soft, Star... so warm.” I kiss around the edge of her bra, grazing my nose between her boobs to reach her lips before I roll over to the side, handing Layla my no-longer-favorite shirt. “It’s yours, but I’ll strip you down when you fall asleep.”
She smiles, seeing through my bullshit. I’m too fucking worried to jeopardize her growing trust in me to put a foot wrong. The water in the bathtub starts running a minute later once Layla leaves me to fold her clothes. She keeps tugging on the door handle, checking if she locked the door.
“If you check again, I’ll knock the door down,” I shout.
She giggles, tugging again. The closet is again immaculate when she comes back half an hour later, hair wet, skin rosy, no more than three buttons fastened on her breasts. Her pebbled nipples press against the fabric, standing proudly. That sight, the hint of perky breasts, coupled with my wild-running imagination, turns my brain to mush.
I lock myself in the bathroom and spend ten minutes under ice-cold water, reining my craving for her body. I’ll enjoy sex more once Layla trusts me. I’ll appreciate her more once she’s ready. At least that’s how I’m pep-talking myself ahead of holding her close all night.