The Owner of His Heart (16 page)

“This is the only way there can be an us.”

“No, it isn’t. Not if you decide to just trust me. I love you, now you have to trust me if you want us to be together.”

He shook his head. “If you really love me like you claim to—”

“I don’t claim,” she said. “I do. I love you so much. My heart belongs to you, not your brother, not any other man. To you.”

His face by this point had turned red with anger. “Then sign the pre-nup and marry me, goddammit.”

“No,” she yelled back. “Not like this.”

They stood there at an impasse, both breathing hard. She was angry at him for making this so difficult, but she could sense he was angry at her for the exact same reason. At her job Layla was known for her easy ways, for her ability to be flexible and work with just about anyone from the crankiest patients to the despondent ones who didn’t believe they’d ever get better. But Nathan had a way of finding all of her no-go zones. She couldn’t give in to him on this, but she knew he also wouldn’t cave.

Finally she said, “I’m sorry I hurt you ten years ago, but you can’t keep punishing me. You either have to trust me or let me go.”

He kept his eyes on the unsigned contracts, obviously too furious to speak.

Tears pooled in Layla’s eyes for the second time that day. “Then I guess we’ve got our answer.”

She began to walk back to the bedroom, prepared to get her things and wait out the rest of the contract period in her apartment. She suddenly couldn’t bear this, being in love with someone who couldn’t forgive her. “I’m going back to my apartment.”

But before she’d even taken two steps, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. “No,” he said. “We still have eleven days. You promised, and I’m assuming I can still trust you to keep your promises.”

She closed her eyes. “Nathan, you said it yourself. You don’t want me here. Don’t you think it would be better if we had a clean break? If I leave now, then we don’t have to keep torturing each other like this.”

He turned her around in his arms, rubbing the evidence of his desire against her, which immediately caused her to swell with need, even though she was still sore from that morning. “I’d rather you keep torturing me,” he said, running his lips along her neckline. “If you’re going to run out on me, then you’re going to have to break your promise, because I’m not letting you go before the move date.”

He ground his erection into the front of her. “You drive me crazy with this, Layla. How can I still want you this much after two months?” He made it sound more like a curse than a question, and his kisses became more urgent.

He untied the sundress’s straps and pulled the front down to reveal her dark brown breasts. His mouth covered one large aureole, laving it with his tongue.

But then he stopped, drew up straight, and headed toward the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” she asked, a small anger rising in her chest. She crossed her arms over her breasts. Why would he start something he didn’t plan to finish?

“Take of your clothes and lay down on the couch,” he said, now in the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

Layla peeled the rest of the way out of her dress and did as he said, beyond confused. He soon returned with a glass full of ice cut into half moons, which he set on a nearby coffee table. Still, she felt vulnerable and exposed lying there naked on the couch.

But her embarrassment faded, when he turned to her, his eyes filled with smoky lust as he took her in. She could feel how much he appreciated the sight of her, even before he ran his large hands down her body until he reached the hair-covered mound between her legs.

“You’re so warm,” he said, palming it gently. He ran his thumb over the bud of her clit, and she responded with a sharp intake of breath. “And already wet, even though you’re still sore from this morning. Bad Layla.”

She bit her lip, arching into his hand. She didn’t care if her response made her bad…just that he continue sending delicious thrills through her like this.

He took her hand and placed it over his erection, which was straining against his pants. “Feel how hard it makes me to see you like this. Now we’re both in trouble, because I need to be inside of you, and you’re still sore from this morning.”

“It’s okay,” she said, lifting her hips in the hope of getting one of the fingers he was rubbing against her clit and outer walls inside of her. “Please, Nathan. I need you.”

“You need me to what? I like hearing dirty words come out of your pretty mouth.”

She squirmed against his hand. “I need you to fuck me. Please.”

He continued to rub her outside walls and thumb her clit, but maddeningly refused to slip anything inside of her. She couldn’t take it anymore. She reached for him, determined to throw him to the ground and climb on top of him herself. But he forcefully pushed her back down on the couch.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Nathan, it’s fine, just fuck me, please.”

Usually begging was enough to get him moving, but this time he ignored her. He even withdrew his hand from her and used it to fish a piece of ice out of the glass, which he popped into his mouth.

Now he was taking a break to suck on a piece of ice? She began to sit up, but before she could, his hands were on her shoulders again, pressing her back into the couch. He dipped down below her waistline, and the next thing she knew, something cold entered her sex and started lapping at it. After a moment, she realized it was Nathan’s tongue. With the piece of ice in his mouth, he ran the ice between her throbbing folds, heating her and numbing her sore vagina at the same time, before sucking her clit in between his cold lips. She gasped with pleasure. She’d never felt anything like this before, and the deep cold kiss sent shivers of electricity through her entire body.

“Oh, yes, Nathan. That feels so good.” She grasped his hair and opened even wider for him. “Please don’t stop.”

But he did stop, lifting up to inform her with a smirk, “The ice has melted. You’re too hot down there. Maybe if I do this…”

He fished out another piece of ice, but instead of putting it in his mouth this time, he used his left hand to spread her labia’s lips, and slipped the ice past her walls, into her blazing hot passageway.

Layla’s heart nearly stopped, the sensation was so shocking. Then he started entering her as well, pushing the ice further and further into her, until both he and it were completely embedded inside of her.

It felt like her pussy was steaming. And her brain short-circuited with pleasure, unable to handle the opposite sensations of hot and cold. “Nathan! Nathan! Nathan!” she screamed.

He grunted and gritted his teeth, holding himself still above her. “You’re so tight. I’m trying to go easy on you, but you’re making it hard for me to stay in control here.”

“No, Nathan, please move. I need you to move.” She rocked her hips up against his, so there’d be no mistaking how much she wanted this.

Finally he started moving inside of her, and it wasn’t long before she found herself on the edge of a climax that built up inside of her like a freight train. The orgasm hit her so hard she screamed, biting into Nathan’s shoulder as he yelled and came himself.

He collapsed on top of her, and Layla’s heart suddenly flooded with relief. Thank heavens he’d made her stay. Eleven days meant maybe they still had time. Maybe he’d come to see how much she loved him and let her out of the contract, so she could stay with him. Maybe he’d even love her back, despite what had happened between them in the past.

But then he said, “Layla, I need you to sign that contract.”

And they were right back where they started.

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” she said. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have left, okay?”

He grew quiet, but she could already tell he was plotting another tactic to get what he wanted. She just hoped she would be strong enough to withstand it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE MORNING of the Sinclair Ball, Nathan could be found in his office, staring out of his panoramic window, still trying to figure out how to get Layla to sign the pre-nup. So far, he’d cajoled her, threatened her—he’d even offered to double the amount of her pay out in case of a divorce. But she just kept denying him, insisting he let her stay in Pittsburgh, so their relationship could progress naturally. Like a natural progression was even possible given their history.

The problem with Layla was she truly believed everything between them could be solved with love and trust. However, before she’d lost her memory, she’d come to the conclusion Andrew was a much better choice for her. And even if she had been serious about loving Nathan, as she now insisted she must have been, she had obviously loved Andrew more.

And though he’d harbored a great bitterness against her all of these years, he couldn’t say he didn’t understand her logic. Andrew was the good guy, even-keel and intelligent. Why wouldn’t she want to be with him as opposed to Nathan?

Nathan understood Layla couldn’t stay with him and be faithful to him without a legal document like the one he’d put forward. He was insisting on the contract for her own good. If they weren’t married, if and when she and Andrew met again, then she’d fall for him. She’d feel guilty about it, but she wouldn’t be able to deny how well they fit together, how little they argued compared to her and Nathan, and eventually she’d choose Andrew.

But if she signed the contract, if she formally promised to stay with Nathan, her out-of-whack honor code wouldn’t allow her to switch brothers. He knew Layla, and he knew she’d ask for a divorce and leave town on her own before she ever violated her marriage vows. If she signed the contract, she might hurt him again, but it wouldn’t be with Andrew.

However, Layla didn’t get that. She wanted him to trust her, but she didn’t understand she couldn’t be trusted when it came to Andrew.

“Brooding again?”

He looked up to see Kate standing in the doorway. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“She still won’t sign the contract, huh?”

Nathan ground his teeth. “No.”

Another strange side effect of his relationship with Layla had been a warming of his working relationship with Kate. Over the weeks, he’d asked his assistant to do so many things in regards to Layla, eventually she’d come to know more about the inner workings of their strange affair than anyone else.

She came in and sat down in one of his guest chairs. “I’ve been thinking about that,” she said. “How exactly did you ask her to marry you?”

“I didn’t ask her to marry me,” Nathan answered. “I explained to her what the pre-nup entailed and then she spent the next two weeks refusing to sign it.”

Kate nodded. “That’s what I thought. Do you think you might catch more flies with honey?”

Nathan shook his head. “I’m not catching your meaning.”

“Well, Layla’s a sweet girl. And though your contract terms are very generous, maybe what she needs is a romantic proposal. For example, if instead of saying, ‘Hey, Layla, sign this pre-nup,’ you presented her with a ring and actually said, ‘Layla, I love you, will you marry me’ then maybe she’d say yes to the rest of it as well.”

Nathan sat forward, liking where Kate was going with this, but...“I can’t tell her I love her until she agrees to marry me.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re not in high school, Mr. Sinclair. There’s nothing wrong with telling her how you feel.”

“There’s also nothing wrong with playing my cards close to the chest until I’m sure I’m in control of the game.”

His secretary actually rolled her eyes at him. Two months ago, she wouldn’t have dared. “Fine, then. How about just ‘Layla, will you marry me?’ Women really do like to hear the words.”

Nathan nodded, warming up to the idea. “I could do it at the Sinclair Ball. Make it romantic.”

“Exactly.” Kate pulled out her smartphone. “Would you like me to pick out a ring for the proposal and let your sister-in-law know it will be taking place so we can schedule it into the program?”

“Sure, let Diana know, but you don’t have to pick out the ring. Find a jeweler, and I’ll go and pick it out myself.”

Kate hesitated. “With all due respect, Mr. Sinclair, I know her taste. I think it’s best if I pick out the ring.”

Nathan smiled.

“What?”

“She’s gotten to you, too. Three months ago you called security on her, and now you’re insisting on picking out the ring and coordinating the proposal to make sure it meets Layla’s romantic standards.”

Kate rather uncharacteristically blushed. “Well, part of my job is to make you look as good as possible. And like I said, she’s a very sweet girl. I really don’t think you could ask for a better wife. Especially if she has the right ring on her finger.”

He smiled again. “Fine, you can come along. How about that?”

Less than thirty minutes later he stood inside Henne Jewelers, an upscale jewelry store in Shadyside, listening to Kate give the dapper man behind the counter instructions for the kind of ring they wanted. “Understated with a little flash. Maybe something that looks vintage but has some great detail like an emerald or a yellow diamond or maybe even a sapphire. But we’ll need it within the next few hours, so it will have to already be in her size.”

Kate’s phone rang, interrupting her detailed list. She checked the caller ID. “Sorry, I have to take this. It’s the movers I contracted for Layla’s apartment.”

She took the call and said, “This is Kate. Please hold” and hit the mute button, before turning to Nathan. “By the way, should I have them just move her things into a storage locker until we get her answer?”

“Good idea,” Nathan said.

The jeweler started to set out a few engagement rings that matched Kate’s requirements while Kate walked away to take the call. As Nathan surveyed the rings, he tried to imagine how each one would look on Layla’s finger. Would it complement or overpower her scrubs and her soft casual weekend looks? He picked up a sapphire with a square setting and thought about the children they might have if they managed to stay together.

He smiled to himself thinking of a little girl with Layla’s smile, or a boy with her bright eyes. The thought of being connected to Layla through their children warmed his heart and made him start thinking of that night’s proposal not just as a means to get her to sign the pre-nup, but also as a possible step toward their future happiness. He had never thought of himself as the marrying kind, or the fatherly kind, or even the happily ever after kind, but looking at these rings, he saw it clearly. If Layla accepted his proposal, they would be happy together. Andrew or no Andrew. It almost made him wonder if he shouldn’t let her out of the contract. If she married him, then maybe he’d be able to come to trust her without it.