He lifted his head and grinned down at her in the shadows. “You’re right about that, sweetcheeks.”
He felt her body tighten around him even as she moved a hand to lay it against his jaw.
“Layne –” she started.
Oh no. Fuck no.
He pulled out of her, righted his pajamas then moving off her and up. He took her with him, planting her on her feet beside the bed. He found the tee and she stood there, motionless, as he pulled the neck of his tee over her head and then she finally shoved her arms through.
He put his lips to hers and whispered, “Get cleaned up, baby.”
She remained immobile, her head tilted back to look at him but she whispered so softly it was hard to hear, “You remembered.”
He remembered.
He remembered she didn’t like to sleep naked. She might fall asleep that way but she always got up and put something on. She also liked to clean up after they were done. Even if they’d go for a second or third round, she’d clean up after each time. Sometimes he’d do it for her.
Yes, he remembered. He remembered everything.
And she should know that.
His fingers curled around her neck and he put his forehead to hers before sharing, “I remember, Rocky. I remember everything. I remember every… fucking… thing.”
Her fingers curved into his at her neck and she breathed, “Layne –”
He cut her off by ordering, “Get cleaned up and come back to me.”
“Sweetheart –”
“Go, baby, and come back to me.”
She hesitated a second before nodding, he let her go and she moved away. He closed the curtains and got into bed on her side. He was in the middle waiting for her when she returned and slid in the bed then instantly moved into him.
“You want your panties?” he asked.
“Do you know where they are?” she asked back.
“No fuckin’ clue,” he answered and heard her soft giggle, liked it, so he slid one hand down her back, pulled up the tee then cupped the soft, generous cheek of her ass.
“No,” she said softly when his fingers curled into her. “I don’t think I want my panties.”
“Good,” he whispered and pulled her deeper into his body as her arm stole under his and around his waist.
He fell silent and so did Rocky until she called tentatively, “Layne.”
He knew by her tone where she was going.
“No, Roc,” he replied.
“Baby,” she whispered, “this was a mistake.”
His hand tightened on her ass, his arm tightened around her back and his voice was a rumble when he returned, “Made a lotta mistakes in my life, didn’t know about them until later. Sayin’ that, sweetcheeks, I know deep in my gut this was no mistake.”
“But –”
“It wasn’t, Rocky.”
“I think –”
His hand and arm gave her a squeeze and she stopped speaking.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he told her.
“But Layne –”
He interrupted her. “It’s dark.”
She paused before she asked, “What?”
“It’s dark, baby, you scared?”
Silence and then a soft, “No.”
She hadn’t even noticed he closed the curtains.
So he made his point by repeating, “This was no mistake.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
He held her in the dark, it was late and he’d just fucked Rocky for the first time in eighteen years. He’d come, hard, after months of dreaming about her, each dream hot, but having her was far, far hotter.
He was sated, relaxed, tired and close to sleep when she whispered, “Layne?”
“Yeah, baby.”
He heard her hair move on the pillow before she snuggled closer and, still whispering, said, “I’m hungry.”
Layne suddenly wasn’t tired anymore. He rolled to his back, pulling her over him and he found her mouth with his.
“Feel free to take as much as you like,” he invited on a mutter against her lips, felt her lips smile then she slowly made her way down his body and she took as much as she liked.
Then Layne took as much as he liked.
Then Rocky got up, pulling the tee back on, she cleaned up, came back and pinned him to the bed.
Chapter Fifteen
Live It with Me
Layne’s body jolted awake when the doorbell went and kept going, a long continuous set of very annoying peals.
What the fuck?
Rocky moved, the weight of her head coming off his shoulder, her arm around his abs sliding to become a hand at his gut, she went up to an elbow and, in a drowsy voice, started to say, “What –?”
She stopped speaking because the bell stopped and then it started right up again.
“Fuck!” he hissed, sliding from under Rocky, not happy that his first morning waking up with Rocky after getting back together started with the goddamned doorbell and not happy that his first morning waking up with Rocky after getting back together started with the first thing he did was get out of bed and also not happy the next thing he was going to do was rip someone’s fucking throat out.
“Layne, are you expect –?” Rocky started to ask as he rounded the bed, looking for his pajama bottoms.
She stopped again because the doorbell also stopped again then it started right back up.
“Baby, where’d you throw my pajamas?” he asked over the bell.
“What?” she asked back and he looked at her. She was out of bed, standing at his side of it, her hair tousled, looking adorably mystified as her eyes scanned the floor in the weak light coming through the curtains. “I don’t know, um…”
Layne saw them in a fold of the comforter, yanked them free, spied her panties also caught in the bedclothes, freed them and tossed them to Rocky who caught them then he tugged on his pajamas as he heard from below, “Jesus Fuckin’ Christ, keep your goddamned pants on!”
Devin. Great.
Then he heard a loud bark.
Blondie. Even better.
Devin would probably shoot whoever was at the door and Blondie would likely lick the wounds clean.
He moved to the bedroom doors, Rocky moving behind him and he was three steps down the stairs when he heard a shrieked, “Oh my God! Who are you? What are you doing in my son’s house? And why do you have a gun!?”
Fuck, fuck, fucking hell.