He couldn’t know what that meant to her. Feeling safe was a comfort she’d thought she’d lost forever that night in Mexico. And yet the sight of him, so strong and confident, so determined, made her feel like nothing could get to her. Anyone who wanted her would have to get through Brian first and she couldn’t see that happening.
He gestured at the condoms in the middle of the mattress, his green eyes hard as jade. “Contrary to what you might think, I wasn’t planning on fucking you tonight.”
“I could tell.”
“Smart ass.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want you sleeping alone tonight. You’ve had a rough day. The inspector you’ve been talking to for years died in front of you. I know you, sweetheart. You can’t just shrug that off. You’re hurting and you’re bottling it up.”
Her throat tightened and she shook her head, warning him away from a topic that would lead to more tears.
He stepped closer. “I want to hold you, keep you warm, make sure you feel safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Layla.”
She swallowed hard. “I know. Right now, that’s the only thing I know for sure.”
Before she knew it, she was in his arms, held tight against him. Burying her face in the soft cotton jersey of his shirt, Layla breathed him in—the warm, clean scent of virile male. Brian wasn’t a cologne kind of guy; just soap, antiperspirant, and natural pheromones, which did a number on her every time. Her reaction to him was instinctual and primal, as if she’d been hardwired to seek out this one man, the only one who made her feel as if she was right where she was supposed to be.
Layla dropped the towel in her hand. Her hands fisted at his waist, gripping both his shirt and belt loops. As always, she felt like she was hanging on to him with a death grip, trying to stave off the inevitable separation. Even when he’d been hers, she’d never really felt like she had all of him. His job owned him first and foremost, and eventually she’d realized that if she made him leave it behind, the loss would alter him in a fundamental way. She couldn’t ask that of him. He had to make that decision for himself.
And he had.
The job won.
Exhaling in a rush, she released him and stepped back. His arms fell away reluctantly, loosening the towel she’d secured around her torso with a tuck between her breasts. She barely caught it before it parted and fell. Brian sucked in a sharp breath and turned away, displaying a restraint she wouldn’t have expected from the Brian of old.
“You need to eat.” He dug into a large bag and pulled out a foam container. He peeked inside it, then grabbed a napkin and some plastic utensils.
Layla watched as he set a rudimentary place setting for her at a small round table by the window. The blackout drapes were drawn tightly together, shielding them from view of any passersby. She grabbed a fresh change of clothes and donned them in the steamy bathroom before sitting down to eat.
“What did you get?” she asked.
“Burger. Same as you.”
She chewed a fry thoughtfully, her gaze moving to the bed and the condom box.
“They were near the razors,” he muttered. “I didn’t go out of my way looking for them.”
Layla managed to repress the smile wanting to escape. His surly moods always brought her amusement. He was the type of guy for whom most everything just rolled off his back. The only thing capable of knocking him off his game was her. “God bless stores with convenient layouts.”
He growled and ripped off a bite from a burger that was easily twice the size of the one she had. Brian wasn’t a fan of breakfast, but he more than made up for it with the amount of food he ate the rest of the day.
“Aren’t you going to join me?” she asked sweetly.
His gaze narrowed suspiciously, but he snatched up his food and came over, pulling out the chair opposite her and sinking into it with movements that were inherently graceful. She’d always loved to watch him in motion, loved to watch the way his muscles bunched and lengthened with sleek fluidity.
“You look great, Bri.” Her voice was low and warm, prompting her to take a quick drink of her soda to cover the slip. Letting him know she still loved him would be a mistake. They had even less of a future now than they’d had before.
He stilled midchew. Swallowing, he said, “Thanks. So do you.”
She offered a shy smile and resumed eating.
“So . . .” he began. “What have you been doing the last few years? Have you been in Maryland the whole time?”
“Pretty much.”
“Do you like it?”
She shrugged. “It’s all right. Nothing like SoCal.”
“No,” he agreed. “Are you still studying interior design?”