M. Thompson
LAYLA
I pull my keys from my purse and unlock the door. It’s late and I’m pretty sure Brandon hasn’t cooked anything. So, I decide to whip up something for myself.
I drop my stuff, wash my hands, and get to work in the kitchen. Chicken quesadillas are on the menu tonight.
An hour later, I’m done. I’ve cooked more than I intended to, but that’s okay. I can share some with Brandon.
Right on cue, Brandon emerges from his room.
“Did you cook something?” he asks.
“Yes. You can have some,” I reply, setting my plate down and starting to eat.
“Cool, I’ll grab a plate.”
I glance up at him.
“So, who was that guy you were with today?” he asks.
“Why do you want to know?” I tease.
“Just curious,” he shrugs.
Suddenly, the girl from earlier strolls out of his room, wearing one of my shirts. Why on earth did he bring her here?
“Who is she?” the girl asks, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
“Who am I! Why the hell are you wearing my shirt?” I retort.
“Because you don’t live here,” she snaps.
“Actually, I do, so why are you in my house?” I shoot back, my temper flaring.
She saunters over to Brandon and wraps her arms around him. I roll my eyes and continue eating. She takes a bite of my food, then spits it out. “This food tastes like poison,” she declares.
Brandon just stands there, eating and looking completely unfazed.
“Brandon, can you control your pet?” I ask, annoyed. He chuckles a bit.
“I am not a pet,” she retorts, fuming.
I finish my food and, having lost my appetite, decide not to get seconds.
“I’ll do the dishes,” Brandon offers.
“Okay,” I reply, dumping my dishes in the sink.
I retreat to my room. “I really need to set some ground rules for him.” I roll my eyes, thinking about her still wearing my shirt. Ugh, she can keep it.
I pull out my laptop and start working on my assignments.
***
Suddenly, I wake up, slumped over my computer. I must have dozed off after finishing my homework.
I hear a soft knock on my door. I rub my eyes and get up to answer it. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light, and then I see Brandon standing in my doorway.
“Brandon, why are you up so late?” I ask.
“Layla,” he whispers.
“Are you okay?” I ask, concern creeping into my voice.
He pulls me into his chest, his hands on my waist. I look up into his green eyes.
“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” he confesses.
I can’t forget it either, but he brought a girl home and now he’s in my room. I can’t let this go any further. “Okay,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Don’t just okay me,” he says, his face inching closer to mine. I want him to kiss me, I really do, but I won’t let him use me after he was just with that girl.
I push him away. He looks hurt. “I won’t let you kiss me after your lips were just on her,” I say, anger seeping into my voice. He looks confused for a moment before responding.
“We were working on a project,” he begins, “and she spilled juice on her shirt. I gave her one of yours while I washed hers.”
I look away, feeling embarrassed. How could I have jumped to conclusions like that? He doesn’t pull me back into his arms, and I regret pushing him away.
“I know I shouldn’t feel this way about you, but I do,” he admits, looking away. “I can’t help but imagine holding you in my arms every day,” he adds, biting his lip.
I step closer to him and take his hands in mine.
“Then hold me,” I whisper.
He wraps his arms around me again, kissing my forehead. “I’m falling for you,” he whispers in my ear.
“Brandon,” I whisper back, biting my bottom lip.
When he finally releases me, I take his hand and lead him into my room. I close the door and guide him to my bed. I sit him down, then wrap my arms around his neck.
“Do you want to—” I start.
“No, let’s take this slow,” he interrupts, smirking at me.
I’m relieved he wants to take things slow. I’m ready for anything he wants, but slow is good too.
“I want to take this slow and get to know you better,” he says.
“You already know everything about me,” I giggle.
“Yeah, but I want to get to know the sides of you I’ve never seen before,” he teases, making my heart flutter.
“Okay,” I reply, moving away from him. I climb into bed, feeling his gaze on me the entire time.
“You can still lay with me,” I offer. He pulls back the covers and slides into bed next to me.
He looks at me with a devilish smirk. He pulls me close under the covers. “I’m not letting you go.” He chuckles.
Oh, God, he has no idea how much that just turned me on. I bite my lip and look away from him.
Maybe he didn’t want to sleep with me because he didn’t have a condom and made up the speech last minute.
“Just in case you’re thinking something terrible,” he says, pulling out a condom, “I have one on me.”
Oh my God, did he just read my mind? Ugh, how embarrassing. I close my eyes tight and he chuckles softly. I know I won’t be able to fall asleep in his arms.
Suddenly, I sense him shifting, but I keep my eyes shut, determined to sleep. His lips find my neck, and my eyes snap open. He’s hovering over me, just a bit.
Without warning, he dips back down, his teeth grazing my neck.
“Mm, Brandon, stop. I need to sleep,” I murmur, tilting my head to give him better access to my neck.
What is my body doing?
“You don’t seem to want me to stop,” he counters, his teeth finding a particularly sensitive spot.
“Ah,” I let out a soft moan, unintentionally giving him exactly what he wants.
He halts, resting his head back on the pillow. Why does he keep stirring me up like this?
“I won’t go any further unless you want me to,” he teases. Damn him. If it weren’t three in the morning, I’d say yes.
I nestle into his chest, attempting to drift off to sleep…