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You listen so well.
Stepping onto the street, I’m met with a big, black SUV in the loading zone where Tristan parked the other night.
“Layla?” the man beside the SUV questions. He bears a resemblance to Tristan but is younger. Nodding as I close the distance between us, he extends his hand as I approach. Gripping my hand lightly, he gives my knuckles a soft kiss before introducing himself, “I’m Liam. It’s nice to meet the woman my brother can’t stop talking about.”
Heat creeps over my cheeks from learning he’s been talking about me, and I lightly squeeze Liam’s hand. “Thank God. I thought that was pretty fucking forward for an Uber driver.”
He helps me into the backseat with a smile. As he slides behind the wheel, I ask, “Do you chauffeur your brother’s dates often?”
“You’re actually the first, sweetheart.” His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Tris doesn’t really date.”
“What?” I’m truly shocked at his admission.
“Fuck.” He spins in his seat, “Don’t tell him I said that.”
“My lips are sealed,” I chuckle.
This man is more fucking intriguing by the minute.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TRISTAN
Sending Liam to pick up Layla was probably unnecessary. She’s been seen in public with me once before this shit with the Bratva kicked off. The likelihood of her being on their radar at this point is negligible. At least, it will be until she steps through the doors of the club in about thirty minutes. Right now, I should probably be more concerned with Liam and the shit his big mouth is going to spill before she gets here.
The two of them walk into the lounge at the front of the club, laughing as though they are the best of friends. “The two of you look quite chummy.”
“Are you jealous?” Liam snarks.
Crossing the room to them, I wrap my arm around Layla’s waist and possessively pull her into me hard enough to elicit a tiny gasp. Fuck, I love that sound. Her body pressed tightly to mine, I breathe in her sweet floral scent as she stares up at me. My gaze unwavering from hers, I respond to Liam, “Something tells me I don’t have a thing to worry about.”
A slight smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, drawing my attention to her pouty pink lips. Lips that I haven’t been able to stop thinking of for days. Leaning down, I finally taste them again. “I’ll lock up on my way out,” Liam groans.
“So.” Layla places her hand on my chest and delicately pushes herself back, making a breath of distance between us. “What was it you wanted to show me?”
Everything.
“Would you like a drink, darling?” I gesture toward the bar as I lift my glass from the table.
“Yes,” she answers while shaking her head in disagreement, “but I want to talk first. Until you answer my questions.”
“Of course.” I take the last small sip of my whiskey and leave the glass tumbler on the glossy black table. “That’s why I wanted to meet here. I can answer your questions and demonstrate as well.”
When we get to the couch, I offer her a seat, thinking this might be a less intimidating place for us to have this conversation. It is, after all, what it was diagnosed for. Sitting beside her, I place my hand on her thigh as I rest my other arm on the back of the couch. “Ask away, darling.”
“Fuck,” Layla exhales. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking nervous.”
I give her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve had my face between your thighs and my cock deep in your cunt, and you’re nervous about asking me a question?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” Her voice trails off, and her gaze wanders the room for a moment as she clearly collects her thoughts. “I’ve obviously never done anything like this before, and the idea of giving you—or anyone—that kind of power is… kind of scary.”
This isn’t happening with anyone else.
“That doesn’t happen overnight. The power dynamic between a Dominant and submissive happens over time. It’s trust; it needs to be earned—by both parties.”
She grabs my glass from the table and drinks the watered down remnants of my drink “I want to see the club. I want to know exactly what it is I’m thinking about,” she quietly asks, swallowing hard.
My heart races at her continued intrigue in delving into my interests. The other night with her was undoubtedly incredible—and has been playing in my dreams on repeat—but I also can’t stop thinking about how much more it could be.
