Now and Again (10 page)

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” he said.

She looked down at her lap, considering. “You can sleep in my bed with me, but …”

“No sex, I know,” he said. “I wasn’t even thinking of it, honest. We can just cuddle or whatever.”

Layla wrinkled her nose with distaste. “I’m not much of a cuddler. Ground rules for a sleepover: We both stay on our own sides of the bed.  No hogging the covers. And we have to tell dirty jokes until one of us falls asleep.”

“Dirty jokes?” Ben raised his brows with surprise.

“I love a good dirty joke. I hope you know some.”

“I may have a few. And so you don’t think I’m ditching you in the morning, I do have to go into work.”

She yawned. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth. I didn’t sleep well at that hotel last night on the ten thread count sheets.”

“If anyone comes in here tonight they’ll be really sorry they did,” Ben said, stretching his arms up as he got off the couch.

“Do you have your gun?” Layla’s eyes widened as she looked up at him.

“Nope, and I don’t need it. I teach classes at the academy on disarming and beating the living shit out of assailants who have weapons.”

Layla groaned as she got up from the couch. “I forgot I have to take Prince out.”

She slipped into jeans in her bedroom and Ben went on the walk with her. There were a lot of pedestrians out on her tree-lined street on the muggy summer evening. They walked mostly in silence, and Ben fought an urge to hold her hand, knowing she’d think that was lame. He was no good at this.

A group of three fraternity boys in backwards baseball hats all stared at Layla’s tits as they walked past. Ben’s annoyance was morphing into anger while he glared at them. Layla seemed oblivious to it, looking lost in thought.

“Hey,” she blurted, turning to him. “Um, next weekend I have to go to St. Louis because I’m a bridesmaid in a wedding, and that’s part of my two weeks, so I was wondering …”

Ben smiled. “You want to skip next weekend and I’ll give you the next one? My two weeks can start after that?”

Layla’s face fell and she turned away. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

“What did I say that was wrong?” he asked. “Layla—” He stopped and reached for her shoulder.

“Nothing.” She turned and continued walking.

“Did you …? Did you mean you want me to come to the wedding with you?”

She shook her head, still not looking at him. “No. It’s easier to go by myself. I have to pick up my dress on the way—”

“Layla.” He cut her off in a firm tone. “Don’t bullshit me. Is that what you were gonna say?”

“Yes,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I know it’s not your thing, and—”

“I’ll go with you. I’ve never been a wedding date before, but I should be able to pull it off.”

“Are you sure?” Her eyes were bright again, and Ben felt a flicker of accomplishment.

“Positive. I’ll drive.”

“No, I can drive,” she said, easing Prince away from the fire hydrant that was occupying him.

“Really, I want to,” Ben said.

“I prefer to drive.”

“So do I.”

This girl wouldn’t be happy until she had his balls in her pocket. They glanced at each other for a second, but the silence continued. Ben exhaled, aggravated.

“We can take my bike,” he said. “It’ll be fun.”

“What, like … a motorcycle?” Layla’s eyes widened with shock as they came to a stop in front of her building. “First of all – no. Second of all, I’ll have several bags with all my stuff to get ready for the wedding. And my dress, and your suit—”

“Alright, so we’ll take my car instead,” Ben said.

“I’d rather take mine.”

He shook his head with frustration. “You expect to get your way all the time.”

“I told you I’m controlling. But this is supposed to be my two weeks, so …”

“Okay,
fine
!” Ben threw his hands in the air. “But when it’s my two weeks, you’re riding on the back of my bike. In an apron.”

“An apron?” Layla’s nostrils flared. “Are you one of those men who think I should know my place?”

“You’re damn right. Moaning underneath me – that’s your place.”

She raised her brows and looked away, and he wondered what she was thinking. Was she as hot as he was right now? There was something about the way she stood up to him that made Ben want her so bad he could hardly control it.

“Let’s go in,” she said, leading Prince up the stairs to her building.

When they went inside, they didn’t talk. Ben swished some mouthwash, took off his shirt and shorts and climbed into bed to wait for her.

Though he knew they weren’t having sex, he felt a thrill of anticipation. He was between the silky pink sheets of Layla’s bed, waiting for her.

When she came in a couple minutes later, she wore the boxers from earlier and a tight pink cotton shirt with tiny straps. Ben couldn’t help the erection brought on by the sight of her nipples pressed against the shirt. Her tits bounced a little as she walked toward the bed, and he stared openly.

“Did you get those boxers from a guy?” he asked, needing to know. She laughed as she climbed into bed next to him, illuminated by the small bedside lamp next to her.

“No, I bought these myself. Why?”

Ben reached for her hips and pulled her body on top of his, the covers between them. “I just don’t like the idea of you wearing boxers some other guy’s cock has been in.”

“But it would be okay if they were yours?” Her dark hair hung loose over her shoulders and her large brown eyes met his seductively.

“Fuck yes, it would. You want some of my boxers?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I want a pair that you’ve worn all day at work. I want you to come over one night next week and take them off and give them to me.”

The
vixen
. He’d watched a predictable B-rate movie, walked her dog with her and agreed to sleep over. And now this? Layla’s silken voice uttering her dirty thoughts made his cock feel like a steel rod. His arm muscles twitched with his desire to grab her waist and flip her onto her back for a quick, hard fuck.

Ben closed his eyes to compose himself as Layla scooted off of him and under the covers. He was about to spend an entire night sleeping naked next to – but not touching – the hottest woman he’d ever known. He’d probably still have blue balls at work tomorrow.

***

The homemade tomato sauce in Emma’s lasagna had a slightly spicy taste to it. Coupled with the melted cheeses, spinach noodles and accompanying crusty garlic bread, it was the best meal Layla had eaten in while.

“Em, this is delicious,” their dad said as they all sampled the meal.

“It is,” their mom agreed. “You’re spoiling me, bringing over dinner for all of us like this.”

“See why I’ve gained five pounds since she moved in?” Cole said, grinning and nudging Emma playfully.

Layla looked at her plate, suppressing an urge to roll her eyes. Living with a man before marriage had been preemptively forbidden by their parents since about the time Layla hit puberty. A few mantras had been drilled into the girls’ heads throughout adolescence: no premarital sex, no cohabitating, and no illicit drugs.

But an exception had apparently been made for Emma and her golden boy because not a word had been spoken against them living together.

“Will you cook things like this at the bakery?” their mom asked Emma.

“Not at first. I’m just focusing on baked goods and light breakfast at first. But I hope to add a full menu if it goes well.”

“Of course it’ll go well,” Cole said, reaching for Emma’s hand.

“Layla, what’s new with you?” Emma asked.

“Not much. I’m a bridesmaid in my friends Liam and Kelly’s wedding in St. Louis next weekend.”

“A bridesmaid again?” their father said, his brows popping up. “You’ve been a bridesmaid in at least a dozen weddings since you finished college.”

Layla wondered if there was steam coming from her ears. “Just go ahead and say it – always a bridesmaid, never a bride,” she snapped.

“I said no such thing!” their father said, sounding surprised. “I just figure you must be going to a lot of expense to be in all these weddings.”

“It’s fine,” Layla said with a sigh. “They’re my friends. I went to law school with Liam and Kelly.”

“Well, I ran into Brian Hunt while I was out walking the other day,” her mom said, smiling. “He was asking about you, Layla.”

“That’s nice.”

“He gave me his number and told me to pass it on to you.”

“I won’t be needing it.”

“He’s such a nice boy!” Layla’s mom gave her an admonishing glare.

“No,” Layla said, not wanting to admit she wanted more lasagna as she finished hers.

“Layla—”

“Mom, Brian Hunt is . . . disgusting.”

“You’re so judgmental—”

“Really? I’m judgmental? Because I don’t want to date a guy who’s a freak in bed? He spit on Maura Pearson and called her a nasty whore while they were having sex.”

There was a second where no one in the room seemed to move. Layla locked eyes with Emma, who had a deer in the headlights expression.

Their dad broke the silence. “Layla, we don’t use language like that in this house. We’re trying to have a nice dinner—”

“Mom wouldn’t let up,” Layla said. “I don’t like being treated like there’s something wrong with me because I’m single.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” her mom said. “I just thought you might want to catch up with Brian is all.”

“He’s not a good guy,” Cole said. For about two seconds Layla was glad he was there.

“I have to go,” she said, looking around the room for Prince. He was snoring in a corner, so she roused him and said her goodbyes. 

She’d hoped Ben would text for dinner or drinks when he finished working. But she hadn’t heard from him all day. She considered texting him as she parked her car, but decided a night alone wouldn’t be bad. This thing with Ben had an expiration date, and she didn’t want to get too attached.

As she unlocked the main door and stepped into the foyer of her building, Layla stopped at the sight of a box in front of her door.

Awesome. That’s probably from the psycho who’s harassing me. A nice bomb or severed body part to finish out the weekend.

She considered calling Ben instead of opening it, but then she blew out a breath over how weak she felt even thinking it. Layla Carson did not need a big, strong man to come open a box for her.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked at Prince, who sat in front of the door with his head cocked at her.

“Should I just open it?” she asked. Prince sniffed the package, and Layla mustered her courage, lifting the lid of the plain white box. She laughed softly when she saw a pair of boxers folded in the bottom, with a fancy cupcake sitting on top.

She unlocked her door, carrying the box in with her. As she pulled out the cupcake, its sweet, fresh scent wafted her way, and she smiled. It was piled with perfect swirls of white frosting and had a long-stemmed cherry perched on top.

Part of her wanted to keep it untouched, but her sweet tooth won out. She gave a low sound of satisfaction as she bit into the fresh crimson-colored cake. Red velvet? It didn’t taste like it.

Layla tore off a chunk for Prince and he swallowed it whole. It wasn’t until she got to the center that she realized what flavor it was, and she threw her head back with laughter as she reached into her purse for her phone to text Ben.

Cherry with cream filling? You’re too much, Sergeant Montrose.

His return message popped up quickly.

You like?

Layla sat down on her sofa and curled her feet up beneath her as she wrote back.

I love. About this cream filling . . . can you hold on while I swallow every last drop?

She ate more of the cupcake as she waited, feeling a little guilty about her carb intake tonight.

Wish I was there to watch you.

Layla pictured his long arms wrapped around her and remembered the sweet, torturous feel of grinding herself into him on this very couch just recently.

You’re welcome to come watch.

The thought of seeing him made her skin tingle with desire. Was it just because they hadn’t slept together yet? She wondered if Ben would lose interest once they had.

Wish I could, but I’m still working. I’m on surveillance.

His message made Layla’s brows arch with interest.

Like a stakeout?

Yeah, but it’s boring as hell. I’ve been sitting here with this asshole for four hours now, and I’ve got a lot more to go.

Layla opened the picture he sent and saw a dark haired, scruffy man who she could see was sitting in the passenger seat of car with a bored expression. She quirked her lips up as she wrote back.

Do you have handcuffs?

Of course I do, Cupcake . . . why do you ask?

Just wondering. There are so many things you can do with handcuffs.

Layla stretched out on her couch, feeling a post-binge coma in her near future. She’d have to get up early and work out tomorrow, but Ben’s next message made her lose interest in anything but him.

That’s true. Did you know some people use them in bed?

Is that right? That could be fun.

I don’t need handcuffs, though. I could hold you down with one hand and still have one free for whatever else I want to do to you.

His words sent a jolt of arousal between Layla’s thighs. The image his message conjured made her wish he was with her right now. She was still thinking of it when his next words came through.

Would you like that?

I would. You’re very sexy. I think I’ll go change into your boxers now.

See you soon, Cupcake. Get your locks changed.

Chapter 6

Layla’s morning had been filled with meetings, hearings and a short phone conference. But her Monday afternoon was slow and she decided to check in with Melanie from her office phone. The fatigue in her friend’s voice came through the line when she answered.

“Advocates for Hope, can I help you?”