my chest. “How did you—”
“They told me. After I paid them to leave the last two nights so that I knew you would be safe. I didn’t find out until after I paid them off the second night that they sort of look out for you.”
I nod. “I tried to tell you they were harmless.”
“I know you did, but what I saw was this beautiful woman, living on her own in a rough part of town, and a group of guys catcalling and making lewd comments to her.”
“It’s not your problem,” I remind him.
“You know, I tried to tell myself that too, but it seems as though when it comes to you, I’m making it my problem.” He leans in closer. “I can’t seem to help myself, Layla, not when it comes to you. You captivate me, and you’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.” My voice is barely a whisper as he leans in closer.
“I know.” His lips are now just a breath away from mine. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, his voice husky.
“Are you asking?” My heart is racing, and my palms are sweating. He’s going to kiss me. I’m sure of it, no matter what I say. What I’m even more certain of is that I want him to.
“I’m telling.” And with that, he leans in and presses his lips to mine. He’s still giving me the chance to back away, but I don’t take it. I want to know what it’s like to kiss this sexy, overbearing man.
When his tongue traces my lips, I open for him, and he growls. His hand that was once on my cheek slides around to the back of my head, and he holds me close, sliding his tongue past my lips. It’s slow, sensual, and sexy. The feel of him holding me to him, the way he tastes, the heat of his body, it’s better than I ever could have imagined, and I confess that over the last week, it’s been a recurring image in my mind.
He slows the kiss and rests his forehead against mine. “W-What was that?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.
“That was our first kiss.”
“That shouldn’t have happened.” I say the words, but I don’t mean them. I want to beg him to do it again.
“The first but not the last,” he assures me, ignoring me as usual. With a small peck to the corner of my mouth, he removes his hands from my hair and pulls away. “Now, let’s get you some Chick-fil-A.” He backs out of the parking lot, reaches over, and entwines his fingers with mine as if it’s something we do every single day.
He acts as though it’s normal for us, and if I’m being honest, it feels normal. Like I’ve known him and his hands and lips for a lifetime, when I don’t know him at all. It’s odd yet comforting at the same time.
“You still want to eat on the beach?” he asks.
“Yes, if that’s okay with you?”
“Perfect. What do you want?” he asks, pulling the car around to the drive-thru speaker. I rattle off my order, and he adds a milkshake for both of us. Reaching into my purse, I hand him a ten-dollar bill. “What’s that?” He stares at my hand as if I’m offering him a rattlesnake.
“For my food.”
“Put it away.”
“Please, take it. I can pay for mine.”
“I don’t care if you have millions of dollars sitting in the bank. You’re with me, I pay. Get used to it.”
“Why?” I blurt out.
“Why what?”
“Why do I need to get used to it?”
This time he turns his head to look at me. “Because, this”—he points at me then back at himself—“there’s something there, and we’re going to take the time to find out what it is.”
“What if that’s not what I want? What if what you’re feeling is all on you? What then?”
He hands his credit card to the girl at the window and hands me a bag of food and the milkshakes, which I place in the cupholders. He pulls up, then stops to look at me. “You want it. You want me. This feeling, the spark that charges between us, the current that flows through me when I touch you, you feel it. I can see it in your eyes. This is not all on me, not by a long shot.” He turns back around and drives us a few short blocks to the beach.
After finding a