“Fine,” she said, her voice wet with sorrow and anger.
He turned around.
And just so there was no mistaking her meaning, she bent down, naked as the day she was born, and started signing the contract.
There were five post-it tabs with heavy arrows on them, indicating where she should sign her name for each section. She could feel Nathan standing behind her, watching over her shoulder as she signed away her life in Pittsburgh. Finally she reached the last page and signed that one too, scribbling the date down, despite her vision, which was becoming blurry with unshed tears.
But no sooner had she finished writing out the last two numbers for the current year, did Nathan turn her into his arms. He picked her up by the waist, and set her on the edge of his office desk. “Thank you,” he said. He used his thumbs to wipe away her tears. His face was so close to hers he could feel his hot breath on her face. “Thank you. Now stay with me until you have to leave in August.”
“What?” She was so sad and confused, she wasn’t sure if she was hearing him correctly.
But he kissed her, leaning into her so she could feel the thick erection tenting his workout shorts. “Stay here with me. Let me have you until you go. That’s the second part of my deal.”
Hot need burned inside of her and she returned his kisses, even as she tried to make sense of it all. “So you want me to go, but you want me to stay with you until I do.”
He reached into a nearby desk drawer and pulled out a condom. “I want to get tired of you,” he said, pulling down his workout shorts and slipping the condom on over his straining erection. “I want to fuck you until I don’t feel this way about you anymore.”
The way he said this, it sounded like he was in pain. Like Layla’s mere presence hurt him. “Then wouldn’t it be better if I left now, went back to my apartment and never saw you again?”
“No.” His answer was vicious and hard, like the muscles that flexed in his chest and arms as he pulled her hips toward him. “Don’t leave. Stay.”
Then he drove into her. Layla gasped to be filled so suddenly, but it felt good, the thickness of him as he moved in and out of her.
“Say you’ll stay until your move date.”
“I can’t think when you’re inside of me.” Layla collapsed her head on his shoulder. The sensations building inside her were primal. She could feel herself clenching around him, eagerly milking him into her.
“Stay,” he said, his voice low and feral. “Or I’ll stop.”
Layla still didn’t understand why he wanted her to stay with him if he was just going to make her leave in two months. But at that point she would have agreed to anything. “Okay, I’ll stay. Don’t stop.”
“Promise me,” he said. He bit into Layla’s shoulder, just hard enough, walking that fine line between pleasure and pain. “I know you take your promises seriously.”
She did take her promises seriously, which was why she didn’t answer him, just held on tight as he stroked inside of her, hoping he’d let the matter drop.
But then he pulled all the way out, leaving her empty and aching. He took her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his intense grey eyes. “Promise me.”
She didn’t want to make the promise. But her pussy throbbed for him, her pending orgasm howled for him. And she realized at that moment Nathan wasn’t the only one who needed to be weaned off this crazy passion they shared.
“I promise,” she whispered.
He came back to her then, re-entered her, and pumped into her so hard and fast that within minutes, she could feel the orgasm coming, like a thunderous train barreling toward her.
“Yes!” she cried out, when it hit her coursing through her womb like hot lava. “Yes!”
This time she bit his shoulder as the tide of his release pulsed through him against the walls of her vagina. He shuddered against her, coming so hard, she could feel his jaw clench against her shoulder
“O mój boże!”
They both looked up to see a little old Polish lady in a grey maid’s uniform standing there. She held a paper bag filled with groceries in each hand, and the expression on her face was thoroughly scandalized.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAY what you want about the rest of the monochromatic apartment, it could not be denied that Nathan Sinclair had a lovely bathroom. The plush grey carpet went perfectly with the massive whirlpool tub/sauna combination shower and the silver-flecked wallpaper. The square-shaped toilet had a heated seat and even opened and closed on its own, requiring almost nothing of its users. The bathroom also hosted an array of places to sit, including a black velvet divan with sharp edges that ended up being surprisingly comfortable, even if you were in the fetal position.
Two hours after locking herself inside of it, Layla decided she loved this bathroom, and she just might stay there forever.
But then she remembered she’d eventually have come out, since she’d signed a contract agreeing to leave Pittsburgh in two months.
As if to remind her of this obligation, a knock sounded on the door.
“Layla, come out,” Nathan said on the other side of it.
“No, thank you,” Layla answered.
“That wasn’t a request.”
“”No, thank you anyway,” Layla shifted on the couch to face the door. “By the way, what does ‘oi moi boze’ mean?”
Pause. “I think it means ‘Oh, my God’ in Polish.”
She groaned, a new wave of embarrassment crashing over her as she curled back up on the divan.
“You really do need to come out. For one thing you ran into the wrong bathroom, and I’d like to use my own toilet.”
Of course, he’d be less concerned with her embarrassment and more concerned with his boundaries. Layla didn’t even feel bad when she answered, “No, I’ve talked to your toilet and it says it likes me better. Use your guest bathroom.”
“Fine, I’ll just tell Lucynka that she’ll have to stay late because you won’t let her in there to clean.”
Layla cringed at the thought of putting his maid out even further than she already had. “Can’t you just tell her to skip the bathroom today?”
“Yeah, I could, but I’m an asshole, so I won’t.”
When they weren’t having mind-blowing sex, Layla really didn’t like Nathan Sinclair. Really, really didn’t like him. She thought about standing her ground—or in this case—his divan, but her honor reflex was already starting to sound the alarm in the back of her brain.