She shook her head. “It was morbid.”
“I don’t care. It might do you good to talk it out.”
“I doubt it.” Her lashes lowered over her eyes. “Just remember you asked for it.”
With a sigh, she began. “You died in the car bombing. Everyone died except for me, and I was screaming at your corpse, telling you I’d known it would happen. That I knew you’d leave me behind. I was so mad that out of all people to be the sole survivor, it had to be me.”
“Jesus,” he breathed, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.
“I’m sure I had that dream because I was so damn happy to see you yesterday. I stepped out of the safe house and saw you and . . .” Her eyes fully closed on a harsh exhale. “I was too happy. You were running toward me and I thought it was for a different reason at first. Then, everything blew up and you hit the ground face-first at my feet. And I couldn’t cry about it, because I was too pissed off at you.”
Brian rolled his shoulders back, remembering the wounded animal noise she’d made while asleep.
“As you can see, I have issues,” she muttered, snuggling deeper into the sleeping bag.
Layla may have been ticked off at him in her dream, but the way she’d externalized her emotions wasn’t with anger. She had reached for him and held on as if she would never let go. Then she’d seduced him. Shredded him. Stripped him down to nothing but his need for her.
“It’s okay to be pissed off at me, baby,” he said. “I’m pissed off at myself. I shouldn’t have let you walk away.”
“It was for the best. We were both strong enough to break it off when we needed to.”
“Stubbornness isn’t strength. It’s fucking stupid. Living miserably without each other is stupid.”
“Have you been miserable, Bri?” She was looking at him again; he could feel it. “You asked me if I had anyone in my life, but you never said if you did.”
Glancing at her, he said, “You know better than to ask me that.”
“Because it’ll just make me jealous? I’ll get over it.” Her face gave nothing away. That was new for her. She’d once been so expressive, so open. But she’d been innocent then and life had dealt her some painful blows.
“There’s nothing to get over.”
“Still lovin’ and leavin’ ’em?”
He caught her gaze and held it. “No.”
Her lush mouth twisted wryly. “Sorry. Fuckin’ and leavin’ ’em?”
“No, damn it.”
“Fine. Don’t tell me. But don’t expect to interrogate me. It goes both ways, Bri.”
“Really?” he said grimly, his muscles hard with building anger and barely tempered jealousy. “Did you save your body for me, baby? Did you think of me at night and get yourself off? Were your fingers—maybe some toys—the only things to fuck that sweet, hot cunt of yours, because damned if you’d let another man touch what’s mine?”
“Ha!” She straightened. “As if you spent the last five years jacking off to memories of me. Jacob told me all about you, Bri. Tried to warn me off of crushing on you with stories of your many, many conquests. You can’t keep it in your pants.”
“Did those stories make you hot?” he purred, pissed off that she didn’t give him the credit he damn well deserved. “You sure asked about them often enough.”
“Fuck you.”
“Only you.”
Layla shut up, her open mouth snapping closed. She glared at him.
“Say you don’t believe me,” he coaxed darkly, reaching between his legs to rub his palm over his cock.
“You’re a crazy-assed motherfucker if you’re serious.” Her voice was clipped and hard. “You sure found it easy enough to let my golden pussy get away.”
“Letting you go was a lot of things, but easy sure as hell wasn’t one of them.”