Layla - Colleen Hoover Page 0,10
it’s just you.” When I’m finished rinsing out her hair, I put the showerhead back on the holder. She spins around, and I pull her to me as the stream of hot water beats down on us. “I had fun last night.”
She smiles. “Me too.”
“The band is leaving in half an hour.”
“I am too.”
“Where do you live?”
“Chicago,” she says. “I still live with my parents. Moved back in with them after college. I’m not sure where I want to end up yet. Definitely not Chicago.”
“Why don’t you like Chicago?”
“I do. I just don’t want to live where I grew up. I want to experience the entire spectrum. City, country, condo, cabin in the woods . . .” She twists her hair to squeeze out the excess water. “Where do you live? Nashville?”
“Close to it. Nashville is pricey and I don’t like roommates, so I lease a place in Franklin. If you’re from Chicago, why did your sister get married in the middle of Kansas?”
“Chad Kyle is from Wichita,” she says, slipping her arms around my waist. She looks up at my hair, then at my face, and sighs. “Do you know how lucky you are to be a man? You all look the same at the end of a shower. Maybe even a little sexier. Showers transform women. Leave us with flat hair, makeup smeared down our cheeks, concealer down the drain.”
She talks like there’s some drastic difference between the Layla I met at the wedding and the Layla standing in front of me right now. If anything, this version of her is better. Naked, arms wrapped around me, covered in water. I like this version of her a lot. I lean forward and kiss her neck, gripping her ass with both hands.
She tilts her head to the side, giving me more access to her neck. “I think I could make a good country girl,” she says. “I’d love to live here. It’s beautiful. I could be happy running a bed and breakfast.”
For a brief second, I forgot what we were even talking about because she has a two-track mind. Luckily one of them is on me. She lets herself fall against the wall of the shower as my hands roam over her body—my lips over her skin.
“I really love it here,” she says quietly. “I like the seclusion. The quiet. No neighbors. Just transient guests I’d never really have to get to know.”
I slide my tongue up her neck and then into her mouth. It’s a deep, short kiss before I pull away. “It’s the heart of the country,” I say. “There’s no better place on earth than right here.”
In this moment, I absolutely mean that. No better place than right here, right now. She pulls my mouth back to hers, and neither of us flinches when someone knocks on the bedroom door. We’re too preoccupied to care.
“Layla!” Aspen yells.
Layla groans at the sound of her voice, but she continues to kiss me while ignoring the knock. The pounding just becomes more incessant. “Layla, open up!”
Layla sighs, and I stop kissing her so she can get out of the shower. She wraps herself in a towel before walking out and closing the bathroom door. I’m left with a painfully hollow feeling in my stomach.
This can’t be how we say goodbye. I just need one more day with her. One more conversation. One more shower. I can already feel the longing that’ll fill me all the way back to Tennessee.
I turn off the water and grab my towel as Layla lets Aspen into the bedroom. I can hear every word when Aspen says, “Did you sleep with the bass player?” Their voices carry straight into the bathroom.
“Who’s asking?” Layla says.
“Me. I’m asking.”
“In that case, yes. Twice. Would have been three times if you hadn’t interrupted us.”
That makes me laugh.
“His band is looking for him. They’re leaving.”
“We’ll be down in a few minutes,” Layla says.
I hear the bedroom door open up again; then Aspen says, “Mom knows. She overheard one of them say, ‘He shacked up with the bride’s sister.’”
I freeze at that comment. Why didn’t I think about that? This is a wedding; of course their family is here. Shit. Were we loud last night?
“I’m twenty-two,” Layla says. “I don’t care if Mom knows.”
“Just warning you,” her sister responds. “I’m off to Hawaii. I’ll text you when we land.”
“Have fun, Mrs. Kyle.”
When the bedroom door closes, I immediately open the bathroom door. Layla spins around, and the movement causes her