Claiming Serenity(24)

“Not asking for that.”

And then Donovan’s gaze left her hair, moved over her face until they stopped at her eyes. “I like the way you feel. I like how hot and tight and sweet your body is.” He moved closer, barely touching his hips to hers. “This needs to be between us. The others, they like to complicate sex. They like for it to mean something or everything. I don’t. You don’t, Layla. Not with me.”

“Not remotely.”

“If I didn’t like you at least a little bit, then I wouldn’t want to fuck you.”

She wanted that little issue cleared up. Layla knew what Donovan’s touch, his lips did to her, but outside of those moments when the air warmed around them, when they were pulled together by those licks of heat, she didn’t like him. Had no desire to be around him.

“I don’t like you, Donovan. I don’t think I ever will.” She didn’t think too much about the frown that pulled at his lips or how his eyebrows pushed together as though he doubted her. This was Donovan Donley, her nemesis, her enemy, and she was agreeing to terms and conditions related to them sleeping together. Insane, sure, but Layla knew it would be hot. She knew it would feel wonderful. It was that idea that kept her from insulting him completely. “But when you’re inside me, I don’t have to think. I don’t have to do anything but touch and taste. That’s enough for me.”

They were silent and Layla let Donovan touch her, take her hair in his fist and lean her against the wall. There was a moment when their gazes caught and held, expressions shifting, lips hesitating, holding back as though both Donovan and Layla each pushed away any thought from their minds.

Donovan’s chin dipped to bring his gaze to her, guiding her head with his fingers twined in her hair. Layla found it aggressive and insistent and God how she liked Donovan that way. “Tomorrow night… just walk in.”

“Tomorrow?”

Layla barely caught his nod, the slow lift of his mouth as he pulled his lips into a smile. “There will be a tomorrow, Layla and a next day. I’m tired of thinking there won’t be.” He moved closer, held her face up so she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “Aren’t you?” A quick nod that Layla thought she couldn’t control and Donovan’s smile left his face. “Good. Tomorrow night, don’t park out front. I have a space in the back.”

“Ok… okay.”

“Don’t knock. You don’t ever have to knock when you come to me. Just fucking come.”

“Definitely.”

He nodded, pulled Layla against his chest and moved his mouth down her neck, slipping his fingers under clothes until they were both naked, sweaty and losing themselves with no thought of whatever this was between them. Until there was nothing between them.

Layla would come because Donovan wanted her. She’d find his bed night after night because she wanted him, because he asked for nothing but her promise not to hold back from him.

Layla didn’t knock. Not the next night or the nights that fell into weeks afterward. When she came to Donovan, it was always late, always dark. She slipped into his apartment without any preamble, without announcing her arrival or preparing Donovan for what she wanted. He knew. He always knew, and Donovan Donley gave Layla what she told herself she didn’t want from him.

Layla took what he gave, telling herself not to think about when it would stop. Or if it would stop at all.





He liked the way her skin looked in the early morning light. It had become a habit, Layla in his bed on Saturday mornings, her naked back next to him, skin pale, but flawless, soft. She’d leave within the hour. So would he. Coach Mullens liked eight a.m. practices and Layla liked sneaking back to her bedroom after her father left for them. But before Donovan let her slip away, he traced a finger down the tiny bumps of her spine, smiling when she wiggled in her sleep.

“Unless you have other plans for that finger, Donley, I suggest you remove it.”

“You want me to use it on you, Layla?” He rubbed against her, covering her mouth when he slid the tip of his finger between her folds and she yelped in surprise. That shocked gasp lowered, turned into a moan as Donovan moved her on her back, and pulled her legs over his shoulders. “My finger or tongue? You pick.”

“I bet Thor wouldn’t talk this much.”

He swatted her ass, loving how she groaned at the sound, at the sting that she seemed to relish. “Choose.”

But she never let him have the upper hand. Not completely and Donovan hated how much he loved that. Layla stretched her arm above her head on the pillow, wiggled deeper into the mattress and smirked at him, a challenge in her eyes that only made Donovan eager, hard. The delicate pink of her tongue went across her bottom lip and that smirk straightened, one of Layla’s eyebrow moving up.