Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I surrender to an orgasm that’s as lustful as it is emotional.
It crashes into my body, radiating through me to my fingers, my toes, my hair. Seconds later, he’s falling under too, shuddering then stilling as he groans, a long, deep rumble.
Then, we’re quiet, tangled together as we come down.
Soon, he’ll have to go.
But after we straighten up, he tugs me back to bed and brings me close to him once again. Strong arms wrap around me. Warm breath tickles my neck. “I don’t want to leave you,” he rasps out.
It sounds like a confession.
“I don’t want you to go,” I say.
We stay like that, together and quiet, until he breaks the silence. “Layla,” he says, importantly.
I tense, but then he soothes my worries with his words. “I want to stay. I do.”
I take his hand, wrap his arm tightly around me.
But eventually, the sun rises, and he leaves.
32
THE SERIOUSNESS OF TIRAMISU
Nick
The first thing I do when I reach the Strong Ventures building is go straight to Finn’s office.
I rap on the open door and stride in before he even looks up from his laptop.
When he does, he freezes, his coffee in hand. Then, he sets down the mug and points to the small brown box with the clear window on top in my hand. “Shit. It must be serious. You brought tiramisu.”
My brother has a hell of a sweet tooth. “I hope you have room in your dessert drawer.”
Finn pats his flat stomach. “Always,” he says, but his tone is grim, matching mine. He tips his forehead to the door. “Better shut that.”
But I’m already closing it, locking it too. I won’t take any chances.
I stride to his desk, setting down the offering along with the fork. “It’s from Sunshine Bakery,” I say. I don’t tell him Layla lives near the bakery. That I picked this up when I left her home this morning since the bakery was open early today. That I’m a fucking mess. I don’t have to tell him the last one.
“My favorite,” he says, then takes the treat, opens the box, and sniffs like it’s a fine wine. “This is going to hit the spot.”
He closes the box, rises, and heads around the desk, patting a leather chair for me, then grabbing another one for himself. He sits across from me. “What’s going on?”
There’s only concern in his voice. No teasing, no needling.
I drop my head in my hand. “Where do I even start?” I mutter.
“Maybe at the ink spot you had on your palm the other day? I’m guessing that’s a clue as to why you’re here.”
I raise my face, drag a hand down it. Then I just nod. I practiced the words to say during my swim when I got home, then in the shower, then on the walk to the office, espresso-soaked cake in hand.
But the dress rehearsal doesn’t make this confession performance any easier. I lick my lips, trying to find a better way to start than I fell for my son’s ex-girlfriend.
“So there’s a woman,” Finn says, taking the conversational reins. He stares pointedly at me, like he’s saying he started it, now it’s my turn.
I jump off the cliff. “Yes, there’s a woman,” I say, though that hardly covers the magnitude of my feelings for Layla Mayweather. But this ought to cover the problem. “And she’s my son’s ex.”
Finn flinches. “Fuuuuuck.”
I laugh mirthlessly. “I know.”
“Fuckity fuck, Nick.”
I laugh again, for real this time, and at Finn. “Yup. It’s a whole lot of fuckity fuck.”
“With a side of tiramisu.” He blows out a long stream of air then cracks his knuckles. “All right, let’s do this. How? When? And does David know?”
“Miami. A few times. And fuck no.”
Another big breath. “And the payola,” he says, gesturing to the treat on his desk, “is because you need my help breaking it off with her, telling him, or borrowing my Miami home to sneak off for another tryst with her?”
That’s the thing—I don’t want just a tryst with her. “I don’t know what to do, Finn.”
My older brother takes a beat, studying me with wise eyes. “You have feelings for her,” he says, simply.
It’s a statement of the obvious. But sometimes you need to know what you’re dealing with. “Big ones,” I say.
Last night was the tipping point. I was already crazy for her. Then, she opened her heart and her past, and all I want to do is take care of her, adore her, and treat her like the goddess she is to me. But how the hell can I do that? “She’s his good friend now too. She’s a huge part of his life. And I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop seeing her. I can’t stop wanting her,” I say.
Finn clears his throat. “Actually, you can stop seeing her. Sounds like you’re choosing not to.”