I grab her hand and lead her to an empty conference room. Shutting the door behind her, I drag her to me. “Missed you.”
My arms burn to wrap around her, but after three hours of training, I’m a sweaty mess. Instead, I lean down and drop a soft kiss against her lips, waiting for her permission.
“Yes.” Her gentle consent is followed by the pressure of her mouth against mine. She glides her tongue along the seam of my lips and slips her hands up my shirt.
“Mmm, I want that, Mouse. But I’m all sweaty.”
She smiles against me. “I like you sweaty.”
Her wet mouth muffles my answering groan as I sink into the kiss. Vanilla and sugar, sweet and tempting, fills my senses. The large conference table that sits a few feet away calls to me. But that’s not why we’re here. Dammit.
“Tell me about the meeting.” I’m still holding her hand. I pull out a chair for her to sit in, and drop my ass on the table.
Without giving details, she tells me that it was difficult going into the horrors of the past, bringing up the old hurts and discovering new ones, but that they’re moving forward together and will be stronger because of it. My chest warms with pride. To think of the impossible obstacles this woman has faced, and yet she holds on, walks through her fears, and makes it to the other side unscathed.
“In the car on the way home, I told Axelle about us.” Her expression is solid, unreadable.
“Yeah? How’d that go?” My stomach rolls, and I lock down my leg to keep my knee from bouncing.
I need Axelle’s approval if I’m going to be hanging out with Layla on a regular basis. And needing someone’s approval is not something I’m used to.
She picks at a piece of nothing on her shirt and peeks up from beneath her eyelashes. “She’s cool.”
A waterfall of relief washes over my shoulders. “No shit?”
Her eyes sparkle, and a big smile pushes her lips wide. “No shit.” She jumps up and throws herself into my arms.
I put back a hand to keep from going horizontal on the table. “Careful, Mouse. Sweat, remember?”
“I don’t care.” She wraps her arms around my waist and nuzzles in.
The sound of her deep breathing against my neck has me reaching for her ass. “All good news, sweetheart. I’m happy for you girls.” I grab a handful of her bottom and squeeze. “How’re we gonna play this? I don’t want to freak her out, but I’m not stoked on the idea of sleeping without you in my bed.”
She pulls back and meets my gaze, her eyes tempered with lust. “How about you in my bed?”
“Bed’s a bed, Mouse. As long as you’re in it, I’m there.” It’s not the first time that I’ve been hit with a big fat fucking reality check. I’m dating a woman. She has a kid and a ton of baggage.
And none of that means anything.
“Blake? I want—”
“Layla, thank God you’re here.” Gibbs pushes through the door. “We need to go over the schematics for UFL 94.” He flips through papers, pulling out a few and shoving the rest aside. He doesn’t seem to notice or care that we’re wrapped up together in a room alone. “Oh, and we need to go over…”—he flips a few more pages— “the promo party at Flesh. Went well, and looks like you managed to stir up some gossip.” He finally looks up and notices what’s going on. He studies us for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yes, this is good.” He motions between Layla and me. “This is very, very good.”
Gibbs thinking the two of us together is good is most likely bad. All my protective instincts flare, shining bright with warning. I hop off the table and pull Layla behind me.
He chuckles and steps farther into the room, tossing a folder to the table. “I wanted to talk to you two. Guess this is as good a time as any.” Pulling a paper clipped stack of papers from the folder, he flips through them with a smirk on his face.
“You mind making this quick? I’ve got your paycheck to train for.”
He tosses a stack of online printouts on the table in front of us. “This is the story circulating.”
“What the hell?” Layla flips through page after page, handing them to me.
The photos are from Flesh. All at different times, but each one is of me with the busty brunette in various stages of our brief encounter. The headlines all speculate that we’re a couple. Annoying, but nothing new. Making something out of nothing to sell a story is what they do.
“Oh my God.” Layla’s face pales, and the paper in her hand trembles.
I look over her shoulder and read the headline: “Desperate Woman Tempts ‘The Snake’ With More Than a Flute”.
Snagging the page from her hand, I stare at the accompanying photo. It shows Layla and I in our standoff, right before she—oh shit. How they managed to snap a picture in the split second that Layla removed her top is a fucking miracle. They pixelated her bare breasts, but still.
“This is bullshit,” I growl and ball the offending paper in my hand.