Test Shot (18 page)

The warmth that spread beneath her breastbone at the casual nickname made her smile. As did the weight of his arm on her back.

A man and woman appeared on screen. They sat on a couch quietly talking while a fire roared in the fireplace behind them, bathing the couple in a soft orange glow. That glow nicely tipped the woman’s breasts as they started to undress. Added a fiery gleam to the man’s shaft when he removed his pants.

She watched Sawyer out of the corner of her eye, more interested in his reaction than in the movie itself. He had such a guileless face, every reaction on full display as if he didn’t bother tempering his emotions.

After living with a man like Aidan, Sawyer’s honesty was as refreshing as a gallon of water on a scorching summer day. As arousing as—

There were no comparisons she could make. She hadn’t felt this edgy and needy for so long. It wasn’t just desire driving her either. There was more. He made her more.

Sawyer fisted his hand in her nightshirt when the man rolled the woman beneath him and drove into her pussy in rhythmic strokes. This movie wasn’t about camera angles on body parts. The focus here was the couple’s faces. Their longing, their excitement. And when the woman began to caress the man’s face, their love.

They watched silently, neither speaking or moving, except for Sawyer’s offhand clenches. The DVD didn’t last long, maybe twenty minutes. When it was over, Sawyer exhaled and stood up to switch to the other movie, his visible erection proof he hadn’t been uninvolved in what they’d witnessed. But he hadn’t tried anything. Hadn’t even kissed her again.

She frowned as he settled beside her to watch the second one. Why hadn’t he made a move? She tried to bite her tongue. And it worked, for all of a minute.

“You haven’t touched me,” she said, surprised at how stupid that sounded.

“Sure I have.” He flexed his hand on her lower back, and heat pooled between her thighs. “I’m touching you right now.”

“I mean…you know what I mean.”

He grinned at her, and she had no choice but to grin back. “You didn’t touch me either.”

“No. But that’s—”

“Lemme guess. Making the first move is my job as the male.” He tucked one of her curls behind her ear. “Does Aidan always make the first move with you?”

“Yes.” She gazed down at the hands she’d fisted under her chin. “Well, he used to. When he stopped, I did for a while. Now I usually ask if he’s interested rather than just going for it.”

“Spontaneity’s gotta be a real wrinkle in his shorts.”

For a moment she could only be grateful he hadn’t commented on her admission that Aidan had mostly stopped making any moves—this past weekend aside—with her. Then she heard the rest of what he’d said. “He’s spontaneous sometimes. Pushing for the threesome, that was sudden.”
And odd
, but she didn’t say that aloud.

“How do you feel about it?” he pressed. “Making the moves?”

She looked at the TV screen, noting this scene was again a man and woman. This time they were in the back of a bar, and the guy had already tugged the woman’s wrists above her head and pinned them to the wall.

“I’m okay with it. In theory.” She kept her gaze on the TV, but she still noted how Sawyer tensed. “He never said he didn’t want me to be spontaneous. It just doesn’t work as well when I approach him.”

“Doesn’t work how?”

“He barely responds. Or at least he doesn’t anymore.”

The guy onscreen unsnapped the woman’s jeans and yanked down her zipper. She wriggled against him, her breasts taut against her leather bustier.

Layla shifted at the pulse between her legs. Holy fuck, this was hot. But Sawyer didn’t seem to be paying attention.

“How long’s it been since you’ve had sex? Just the two of you?”

“Saturday. But I think that was—” She heaved out a breath. Why were they having this conversation? Why wasn’t she telling him to stop, that she didn’t want to answer these questions? “I think that was more about claiming me than anything else.”

“Before then.”

She tucked her hands under her arms. “Actual sex? More than toys? Or fingers?”

“Actual penetrative sex, Layla.”

God, this was embarrassing. “A while. I don’t know how long.”

He let out a sound that could only be described as a growl. “He’s a goddamn idiot.”

She swung her gaze to his, surprised to see his mouth pulled into a tight, hard line. “He works a lot. It’s been so hard for him to adjust to not being a doctor.”

“When you have trouble adjusting, you turn to your partner and lean on them. You don’t shut her out and shut her down so that she’s forced to invite another guy into your fucked-up relationship.”

She jerked into a sitting position. “Our relationship isn’t fucked-up. And I didn’t ask for another guy. I’d never do that.
He
put it out there and turned it into a possibility. He’s the one who wanted me to have someone so he could—”

Sawyer glanced over his shoulder and asked gently, “So he could what?”

“So he didn’t have to be bothered with my demands anymore. So he could take a break from having to be my lover, something that’s obviously become too much for him.”

She whipped her head away and stared hard at the headboard, shocked that her face had gone as hot as the backs of her eyes. She was
not
going to cry. She also wasn’t going to let Sawyer gather her close and murmur soft, soothing words against her hair.

Except she did.

Stopping him wasn’t an option. Not when she needed to be held so damn much.

“We were so happy once. I know we were. I try to tell myself that this is normal, that all couples change, but it doesn’t feel like that. It feels…”

“What?”

“Like he doesn’t want me.” She forced out the words. “What if he’s fallen out of love with me? What if he doesn’t know how to let me down gently?”

For a long time, he rubbed her back and just let her cry, not saying anything.

“If you were mine, you’d never have to wonder if I wanted you.” His voice barely rose above a whisper, but she felt his words down to her soul. “You’d never be afraid to ask me for anything. I’d give it before you could ask. And I’m not talking about some other jerk’s tool.” He lifted her chin and caught her tears with his thumbs. “I’d give you everything I had. All of me. Even the warty, ugly parts you probably wouldn’t want. But they’d be yours.”

Guilt tangled with the sense of grief she hadn’t been able to shake for days. The lump in her throat felt so big she was amazed she could still swallow. “I’m sorry. This was supposed to be a fun, sexy night. When Aidan came home, he’d get to see us together.”

“That’s what he wanted,” he said flatly. “You didn’t invite me here on your own. He told you to, so you asked me.”

His anger wrapped around her, thin threads of wire that would choke her fragile hold on her emotions if she let them. “He wanted it, yes, but I wanted it too. I admitted on Sunday I wanted to see you again. God, I
had
to see you again.” She raised her eyes to Sawyer’s. “I know it’s not fair to bring you into this. Sex is one thing. But dumping this in your lap isn’t right. And it’s not right to talk about Aidan when he’s not here to defend himself.”

“You know what’s not right, Layla? You thinking you aren’t allowed to actually feel your feelings. That you need to vet them with him for authenticity before you acknowledge you have a reason to be upset.
That’s
not right. If we’re anything to each other, we’re going to be honest.” He rubbed his thumb over her lip, letting her taste the salt from her tears.

Those tears were the proof she wasn’t as happy as she’d struggled to make everyone believe. Especially herself.

“I’m scared of what I’ll see if I face myself,” she whispered. And if she faced Aidan.

“I’m not. I want your warts.” He kissed her forehead. “Every prickly bump and scar. If you won’t give them to me, well, I guess I have to go find someone uglier than you.”

The laughter escaped her so suddenly that she had no choice but to give in. She laughed and laughed, wiping away the tears that flowed now from mirth, not misery.

How long had it been since she’d laughed so completely? That painfully, so that her belly ached and her eyes burned? God, it felt good.

“Now there’s a welcome sight.” Something about the way he spoke triggered a memory of home, and for the first time since their first phone call she could hear the Nebraska in his voice. She wanted to hug that sound to her, revel in it. Bury herself in its warmth and lose herself in the simple joy of being with someone else.

Even if that someone wasn’t—couldn’t be—Aidan.

“It’s been so long.” She took an unsteady breath. “I didn’t realize how long until all of this shook loose from my chest.”

“Bottling stuff up only works for a while. Eventually you need an escape valve.”

“I know. What frightens me is that you’re mine,” she said, afraid to look at him. Afraid to look away.

He didn’t ask her what she meant. He also didn’t shy away from the intensity of her stare. Here, finally, was a man who didn’t shirk the emotions she’d been shoving down for so many months they’d started to fester. Though he hadn’t caused them, he bore the brunt.

“You know what happens to valves. Pressure builds and builds, then whammo, the steam explodes.” His lips quirked. “I’m just fine with you exploding all over me.”

She chuckled with him, but they both knew it wasn’t a joke. He’d given her permission she hadn’t sought. To be honest. To be herself. Whomever that turned out to be.

“So back to that touching thing,” he murmured, reaching behind his head to yank off his T-shirt. “With you and me, things are going to work a little different than you’re used to.”

Her gaze dropped to his chest. All those sleek muscles encased in golden skin, with just enough honeycomb-colored hair to make the dips and grooves more interesting. “Is that so?”

“It’s so. See, I need to be able to touch when I want.” He reached out and cupped her breast in his palm. His thumb circled her nipple. “If someone expected me to wait, I’d get pretty pissed.”

She arched into his hand, her attention riveted on his face. How did he keep such power tucked away behind an easy smile? “We can’t have that, now can we?”

“No. We can’t. When you want to touch me, don’t ask. Don’t wait for my special signal. You do what you need, when you need to do it.” His dusky blue eyes fired with undisguised arousal. For her. “You take, and I’ll take you right back.”

Layla grabbed hold of the waistband of his jeans. With one swift tug, he was right against her, his breath puffing against her cheek while she made quick work of his zipper. She slipped her hand inside the denim and smiled at the way his stomach quivered right before she closed her fingers around him. He was like steel, tight and hot in her grip. “You’re so hard.”

“For you,” he said, as if he knew she needed the affirmation. “All for you.”

She rolled her eyes. Anything to lighten the moment. “Me in my stained nightshirt.
So
sexy.”

He lowered his head and captured her nipple, sucking in slow, wet pulls. Then he turned his face up to her and smiled, making sure she watched while he drew that wicked tongue over the splotch of sweet ’n sour sauce. He lapped there too.

She shifted, already restless. That’s what he did to her. “Sawyer, please.”

“I love how loud you get. So fucking hot.”

“You know what’s hot? Me, right now. Right here.” She drew his hand down between her legs, spreading her knees to give him room to slide between her thighs. He trailed his fingers over her cleft. Once, twice. Then, with a hiss of breath, he pulled back and brought his fingers to his mouth.

Closing his eyes, he swallowed the tips, tasting her with a reverence that shook her all the way through. He made a noise in his throat, so far down it seemed to rise up from his very depths. “I could eat you all night.”

“I might let you.”

His grin flashed. “Time for this to come off.” He drew her nightshirt up over her head and returned to pleasuring her breasts with just his mouth. His hands stayed at her waist, holding her still when she started to writhe.

Layla cupped his head in her palms and rolled her head toward the TV. Wow, porno guy had some thighs. They were tree trunks, massively built and apparently a perfect match for the wood he sported between his legs. Holy shit, was that…?

She started to giggle, helplessly.

Sawyer jerked up his head, whacking her on the chin. “Ouch,” they said in unison, separating with mirrored grins. Then they both looked at the TV.

“Oh fuck. That can’t be—”

“It is. That’s Drew. Esteemed part-owner of Hot Shots and former adult entertainment actor.” She chuckled again as Drew picked up the woman and laid her out on the pool table. The move was sexy, as was Drew—and his incredible wand of sensual destruction—but she couldn’t stop laughing. “Told you Con had a funny sense of humor.”

Sawyer cocked a brow as the second guy appeared out of the shadows to hold his woman’s wrists while Drew went to town on her shaved sex. He latched his mouth on her drenched flesh like a terrier presented with a steak.

“Look at that,” Sawyer muttered as the woman bolted straight off the table.

“He’s got skills. She’s coming like a damn faucet,” Layla acknowledged with no small amount of admiration.

“Stop watching.” Sawyer rose on his knees behind her and covered her eyes. “You’re going to give me performance anxiety. Suction like that can’t be duplicated by the average male.”

She snorted. “Try saying that when your very
un-average
equipment isn’t wedged up against my back.”

“Thank you.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head, but he didn’t remove his hands. “Still not letting you watch.”

“All right, have it your way.” She dragged her fingers over her slit. “I’ll amuse myself.”

The movie’s soundtrack dominated her attention. Drew’s licking. The woman’s keening moans, the other guy’s occasional groans. A buffet of erotic sounds intended to elicit lust.

Dripping lust, in Layla’s case.

Without hesitation, she slid her fingers deep inside her pussy, bypassing her clit completely, and Sawyer let out a strangled grunt. “You cheat.” He huffed a breath against her cheek. “But by all means, keep right on doing it.”