“I’ve never understood you, Leyton. You look at me like … like you want to have me for dessert, but then you pretend not to notice this thing between us.”
There was nothing between them. Nothing at all. But the retort failed him. He couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe. His dick was rock hard, and if she pressed just a little closer, she’d notice, too.
Oh, fucking hell.
Leyton’s head damn near exploded when Ashlynn’s hand trailed down his chest, over his stomach, then lower… Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He couldn’t take much more.
But then the world stopped spinning, time stood still, all things ceased to exist except for Ashlynn’s sweet mouth when she pressed her lips to his. He tried, he really fucking tried to resist her, but the instant her tongue darted out and slid over his lower lip, he lost it.
In a hurried motion that reflected his own desperation, he flipped their positions so that she was up against the wall, his mouth crushed to hers while he forced his thigh between her legs, grinding against the warmth he found there.
“Leyton,” she moaned, her hands coming up to latch on to his hair, pulling him down to her, refusing to let him go.
He wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn’t.
Though there was a nagging buzz in his head, one that told him he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be devouring this woman like the starving man he was, he ignored it. She was so fucking sweet, her mouth so eager, her hands… Goddamn, she was now touching him everywhere. The only thing separating the smoothness of her palms against his overheated skin was their clothes. If they weren’t in public, at a wedding, no less, he would quickly solve that problem.
Leyton had no idea how long they remained like that—him thrusting his tongue into her mouth, exploring depths he’d only dreamed about, and grinding his thigh against her pussy while he fought the urge to free his dick, slide her panties to the side, and impale her just to feel her warmth—but he hoped it never fucking ended.
The sound of a phone ringing close by should’ve been the warning he needed, but again, he couldn’t focus on anything more than the silky softness of Ashlynn’s tongue against his.
“What. The. Fuck?”
Shit! Max.
Leyton jerked away from Ashlynn, stumbling back a step before righting himself. Knowing what he’d see when he turned to look at his boss, Leyton wanted nothing more than to disappear into the floor. Since that wasn’t an option, he turned to face Max, finding him glaring back at them from a few feet away.
“Max, before—”
Max didn’t allow Ashlynn to get the sentence out before he was scowling at her. “Don’t. I don’t want to fuckin’ hear it. You better be out there in five fuckin’ minutes or things are gonna get real nasty. And you”—he pinned Leyton with an angry glare—“I’m gonna cut off your goddamn dick.”
Yeah, Leyton should’ve come to his own defense that day, told Max how he felt about Ashlynn at that point, but he’d been a little off-kilter, not really sure what had happened or what it meant. Still, he knew he should’ve said something.
He sighed. He’d like to think he could have that conversation with Max, could convince him that he was worthy of Ashlynn, but part of him felt it would be moot, a waste of time, a waste of breath, because in the end, what Ashlynn wanted wasn’t the same as what Leyton wanted.
Ashlynn wasn’t the long-term type of woman. Until Jase had warmed her bed, she’d been going through men the same way Genevieve did. Focusing solely on sex and ignoring emotion altogether.
He couldn’t say he was disappointed about the latter, though. It left Ashlynn available at least, and although he couldn’t have her, at least he could still have the idea of her.
But Max wasn’t the only thing standing in his way. Leyton couldn’t have Ashlynn because he didn’t want just part of her. He wanted every goddamn thing she had to offer, and that was the real problem. Until Ashlynn proved to him that he wouldn’t simply be someone there to warm her bed when she needed him, Leyton wasn’t interested.
Well, that was only a partial lie. He was interested. So fucking much his dick hurt from wanting her. But he wasn’t willing to give in unless it meant he could have her love as well. And from what he’d seen, Ashlynn didn’t give that freely.
The thought reminded him of a conversation he’d had with Max several years ago, shortly after Jase had started working for Ashlynn, before the man had made a name for himself, established himself as worthy.
“Take her home and take Jase with you,” Max insisted. “But before you do that, throw that slimy bastard out of my club. I’m tired of this bullshit.”
Leyton stared back at his boss, then glanced over at the monitor. There on the screen was Ashlynn making out with some dickhead in the VIP area while Jase stood silently off to the side, doing his job.
“Boss? What if she likes this one?” Leyton asked, torn between doing Max’s bidding and interfering in Ashlynn’s business.
“She doesn’t,” Max stated firmly. “My sister doesn’t associate sex with emotion. She fucks to fuck.”
Leyton didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. Throwing the guy out wasn’t going to be a hardship, but he didn’t want to piss Ashlynn off.
“I said throw him the fuck out!” Max yelled.
That night, Leyton had done as Max had ordered. He’d thrown the guy out and taken Ashlynn home, along with Jase. She’d been pissed, and to show him how much, she hadn’t spoken to him once. Not even when he’d attempted to apologize.
But over the years, Leyton had realized that Max was right. Ashlynn used sex as a coping mechanism, not as a way to connect with someone.
When and if Leyton ever gave in, he wasn’t going to allow her to use him. He couldn’t.
His feelings for her were far too intense for that shit.
“What’re you doin’ out here?” Max asked, pulling Leyton from his thoughts.
“Just chillin’ till you got back.” Getting to his feet and turning to face his boss, Leyton forced a smile. “You said you wanted to talk.”
“Yeah. Let’s go to my office.”
Leyton followed Max inside the house, then turned down the offer of a drink before taking a seat on the sofa.
“Tell me what’s goin’ on with Tony,” Max stated.
Leyton sighed. “He’s tellin’ me that a shipment was stolen.”
“You believe him?”
“Not really, no. It seems fishy to me.”
“Has Ashlynn talked to him?” Max inquired, carrying his drink to the opposite sofa and taking a seat.
“According to Tony, no. I gave him until Friday to figure it out. We’ll meet him at the warehouse.”
Max nodded. “I’ll do my best to be there, but I’ve got some issues I need to handle in Vegas.”
Not only did Max own Devil’s Playground, one of the nation’s most popular nightclubs, with locations in Dallas, Las Vegas, and New York, but he’d recently ventured into the gambling business. Or rather, the legal gambling ring. For years Max had been running some well-established underground poker games, some of which could net him a mint on any given weekend, but it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that he’d started expressing an interest in Vegas.
Since Max had taken over the family businesses, long before Samuel was out of the picture, he’d begun to establish a reputable front. According to Max, it was important to have a legitimate business that couldn’t take a hit should the Feds opt to go after them again, which, according to Max, was only a matter of time. Devil’s Playground had been Max’s first attempt, and aside from a bullshit raid on all of Max’s clubs a couple of years ago, it had worked out well for them. The clubs offered them the cover they needed, as well as a way to launder the money from the guns and drugs.