The pounding in her ears was so loud, she was almost sure she answered him in a shout. “About what?”
“What you were doing last night?”
She forced herself to hold his stare. “I went for a drive.”
“Why were your clothes covered with leaves?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your clothes. Last night. When I took them upstairs, there were dirt and leaves on them. If you walked across the courtyard and fell in the vestibule, why were they like that?”
She dropped her eyes from his even though she knew that made her seem guilty. Then again, she was guilty.
“Layla?” He cursed softly. “Look, you’re a grown female. Even though you’re carrying my young, I don’t have any right to know what’s doing in your life except for pregnancy-related stuff. I just want to make sure you’re safe. For your sake. For the young.”
Shit.
Now was the time, she thought. Now . . . had to be the time.
“I feel trapped,” she heard herself say.
Between Xcor and the Brotherhood. Between danger and safety. Between desire and damnation.
“I kind of figured that.” Qhuinn nodded. “The drives. You’re going out a lot.”
“I walk.”
“Where?”
“Outside.” In her head, she tried on a variety of come-clean confessions, swapping out nouns and verbs, trying to find a way for her to describe what she was doing without having him lose his shit all over the place. “Out . . . in the country.”
Qhuinn walked across the room and straightened the already straight framed picture of a weeping willow. “People do that when they’re working on something. In their head.”
You got that right, she thought.
Dearest Virgin Scribe, she wanted to tell him. She really did . . . but the revelation was stuck in her throat.
For the first time, she started to get pissed off. At herself. At Xcor. At the whole goddamn thing.
“Did you trip and fall while you were walking?” he said.
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I was stupid. I fell over a root.”
So close to the truth. Just with all the salient parts left unspoken.
Man, this was killing her.
“Most females . . .” Qhuinn came over to the foot of her bed, put his hands on his lean hips and stared down at her feet. “Most females have a partner they can go through this with. I want to be that for you. So does Blay. We don’t want to let you down.”
Great, now she got teary that he might ever doubt how supportive he was. “You are incredible. Both of you are. You are utterly amazing. It’s just . . . there’s a lot going on.”
At least that was not a lie.
“More now with twins.” He shook his head. “Twins . . . can you believe it?”
“No.” She rubbed her belly. “I don’t know how they’re going to fit. I already feel huge, and I have how many more months to go?”
“Listen, please know, I got you. I’m here for you, anything you need—”
As a shrill alarm started to sound next door, the two of them frowned at the same time and looked around for the source of the noise.
“Is that coming from Luchas’s room?” she asked. “Oh, my God, is that . . . ?”
Shouting out in the hall. Running footsteps. Jane’s voice barking out orders.
“Fuck, I gotta go see,” Qhuinn said as he pivoted and lunged for the door. “I gotta go help . . .”
As he bolted for his brother’s room, Layla sat up. Got to her feet. Steadied herself.
Whatever was happening next door was bad news. And she was damned if Qhuinn was going to face it alone.
THIRTY-TWO
As Selena sat in the back of the giant Mercedes, the one that Fritz drove and was, in fact, driving, she was smiling so widely, her cheeks were numb and her jaw hurt.
Up ahead of the sedan, the skyscrapers of Caldwell glowed like the mythical sentries of some fantasy realm, and she leaned into her windshield, trying to see the particular one they were going to, the tallest of the giants, the pinnacle of them all.
“I can’t wait to see what the view is like.” She turned back to Trez. “I’m so excited.”
When he didn’t reply, but just kept staring at her, she smiled even harder. The male hadn’t looked away from her since she’d come down the stairs, his eyes roaming, always roaming, over her lips, her breasts, her thighs and calves, back up to her hair, her face, her throat.
His arousal was straining the front of his black slacks. And even though he kept trying to put his jacket or his arm or a casual hand across his hips, she could sense his sex as clearly as if he were naked.
She leaned in, getting close. “Kiss me?”
“I don’t trust myself.”
“Sounds dire.” Stretching up, she nipped the lobe of his ear. “Dangerous . . .”
The groan that vibrated out of his chest was the most erotic sound she’d ever heard.
“Maybe we should take care of this?” As she put her hand on his sex, he jumped and cursed. “Is that a ‘yes’?”
While he braced himself against the seat and ground his hips into her hand, she glanced to the front of the car, which, due to the vehicle’s size, seemed to be in another zip code. Fritz was focused on the road, his old, lined face preoccupied. Maybe they could—
Without taking those dark eyes off of her, Trez flopped his hand around his door. A split second later, there was a whhhrrrrring sound and an opaque partition went up, closing them off from their kind chauffeur.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” she said as she pushed his arm out of the way.
“Not gonna need it.”
From out of a chest pocket, he pulled a white, folded handkerchief and, with a quick shake, freed it of its ironed rigor.
As she freed his erection.
She was of half a mind to lower her mouth to him, but he took her face between his bare palm and the one that was now covered with fine cloth and kissed her, his tongue shooting in deep, meeting her own.
He was hard and hot, velvety and thick, and she slid a grip around his shaft, pumping him. The more she stroked, the crazier the kiss got, until his pelvis was jerking up against her, and his chest was thrashing, and she was breathing as hard as he was.
When he orgasmed, he barked out her name and shoved the handkerchief onto himself—and she was so turned on, so giddy with the feel of his mouth on hers and the pump, pump, pump of her palm against his sex, that she felt a welling between her own thighs, an answer to what she was doing—which was so much less than what they both really wanted.
Her own release was a surprise, but she welcomed it, absorbing the sharp grabs of pleasure, making them stronger by squeezing her thighs together and rocking. Meanwhile, she continued her stroking rhythm, squeezing at his head, working his length.
When it was finally done, Trez fell back against the seat, his lids oh, so low, those lips of his parted, his head lolling to the side as if he didn’t have the strength to hold the thing up.
“Was that a quickie?” she whispered as she pressed her breasts against his chest and kissed him.
Before he could answer, she ran her tongue along his lower lip, then sucked the flesh in. Easing back, she said, “Hmm? Was it?”
“Be careful, female, I’m liable to fuck you out of that dress you’re wearing.”
“Would that be a bad thing?”
“If any other male sees you naked, yes.” He smiled and ran a fang over her lower lip. “I’m protective.”
“You’re still hard, too, aren’t you.”
With a quick grab of the back of her neck, he pulled her in tight and kissed the daylights out of her. Although she had been in control of the first part, now he took over, dominating her body, sweeping a hand between her knees and up, up, higher to her—
She orgasmed against his fingers as they sunk in deep, her core firing off round after round of pleasure.
“That’s my queen,” she heard him say from a vast distance. “Come for me . . .”
There was no knowing how many times he plied her with that talented touch of his, but eventually, she became aware of the car taking a fat turn that shifted her in the seat. Focusing her glazed eyes through the darkened window, she saw that they were getting off the highway, about to enter the complicated asphalt arteries that fed the countless skyscrapers.