Rashad grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. His fingers tightened in a near-plea to stop, wait. He needed to hold on to her a moment longer.
He edged closer. “Can I call you?”
Layla backed up, something flaring in her eyes as she tipped her head back to look up at him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We broke up for a reason.”
He forced out one of his disarming smiles to tear down the barrier she had erected between them with her cold voice and even colder eyes. “I just want to be friends.”
Anyone listening to their conversation would not possibly believe that, but he had to try.
A faint smile crossed her lips, but there was no humor there. Only silent mockery and a sort of… disappointment.
“You haven’t changed, have you? Still the smooth talker. Still working your charm on the ladies to get them out of their panties. Still playing the same old game you always have.”
Her comments stung, an affront to the way he viewed himself. Sure, he loved women and enjoyed their company, but she insinuated something much more sinister behind his actions. He was always upfront and honest with his liaisons, clear he didn’t want anything long term. Layla had been the one exception to that rule, knocking him off his game for six months—a short amount of time for the average couple, but practically the equivalent of years when Rashad considered the length of time he usually engaged the women he slept with.
“I’m not playing a game. You can pretend you don’t care, but we both know you and I were great together.”
“We had our moments, I’ll give you that, but it’s been almost three years—a long time, and you didn’t call once.” She met his gaze head on.
Guilty as charged. He’d pretended not to care, pretended her departure from his life was one of those things, but as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, he came to appreciate her importance, and meaningless hookups continuously failed to fulfill him. He had intended to call or produce an excuse to visit D.C., anything to see her—but never followed through. Because she’d left, so he continued living life as usual. Dating, working, convinced he was over her no matter how many times she came to mind. Seeing her tonight made him wonder if all that had been a lie.
“Not because I didn’t care.”
“Mhmm. Well, I’ve moved on.” She gently but firmly extricated her arm from his grip.
“You seeing someone now?”
Layla lips tilted up at the corners, the wry smile and seductively narrowed eyes giving nothing away. “That’s none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business.”
“Why do you care?”
“You told me you’d think about it, and then the next thing I knew, you called and broke up with me. No explanation. No chance for renegotiation.”
“What would have been the point? You wanted to slow down. Those were your words. I gave you what you wanted.”
“I didn’t want us to end,” he grated.
“Ohhh, you wanted to continue seeing me on your terms. Well, sorry to disappoint you, honey,” she said, patting his chest. “I have my own terms, too, and I wasn’t interested.”
“Have you been seeing someone?” He asked, a glutton for punishment, hating that he needed to know.
She watched him with a bit of a smirk on her lips. “Did you think I would be sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for you to want me again?”
“I never stopped wanting you,” he said in a low, raw voice.
The words got to her because her lips parted, and his eyes tracked her gulp from the top of her neck to the base of her throat. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her nervous tick giving him a sense of satisfaction because it meant she was not nearly as indifferent to him as she pretended to be.
If nothing else, he knew she wanted him by the fire in her eyes and the way her hungry gaze ate him up. She would fight him every inch of the way, however, simply to prove a point.
“I’m not naïve enough to believe that your desire for me means you’ve been sleeping alone, and certainly not for almost three years. You shouldn’t be naïve, either,” she said.
The thought of her clawing another man’s sheets and sobbing his name was enough to make him want to punch the wall, but he maintained his calm.
“Whoever the lucky bastard is, maybe I should put him on notice.”
“Why?”
“Now that I know you’re in town, his days are numbered.”
Her lips tightened, but the heat of desire banked in her eyes.
She tossed her head so that her black hair swished to the left in her signature move—which meant she was about to give him a piece of her mind. Sweet-natured Layla had a sharp tongue when pushed too hard. But instead of a soul-slicing barb that cut him to pieces, her lips paused in an open position, and her gaze drifted to a point beyond his shoulder as if someone had caught her eye.
Almost at the same time, a hand touched his shoulder. Rashad didn’t have to turn around to know Natasha was standing behind him. She came up beside him, wearing a friendly smile on her face.
“Hi,” she said, looking between them.
A flash of—hurt?—filled Layla’s eyes. Dammit. Natasha’s appearance had reversed what little progress he’d made, which hadn’t been much at all. He’d conveyed the message loud and clear to Layla that he still wanted her, but Natasha’s appearance had the potential to make him look like a liar. A game player, like she thought him to be.
Her lips expanded into an equally friendly smile. “Hi, I’m Layla.”
“I’m Natasha.”
“Nice to meet you.” Her gaze lifted to Rashad. No emotion in her eyes, only a cool exterior that was in direct contrast to the passionate woman he knew her to be. “It was good to see you again, Rashad. I have to go. Take care.”
She glided away—back straight, steps fluid and graceful. If not for the silver high heels that played peekaboo with the hem of her flowy dress, one could easily believe that she was floating on air instead of walking across the floor. She took her position at Ethan’s side, once again rejoining the conversation she abandoned earlier, and the absence of her presence unearthed an unexpected longing. Layla Fleming had rocked his world on many occasions, and right now he was hard-pressed to recall why he’d wanted to slow down.
“Who is she?” Natasha asked, following his line of sight.
“No one,” Rashad muttered, but she wasn’t no one.
He’d never met a woman he couldn’t persuade to his point of view, until Layla. After six months together, he’d asked for them to slow down, and she walked away. Completely unexpected. And, apparently, she had lied to him.
No one was perfect, and he should accept that his previously perfect record had been tarnished. Losing Layla had been a one off.
But her dismissal and dishonesty not only piqued his interest, they challenged him in a way that caused an exhilarated tightening of his body. No person on earth loved a challenge more than he did, and he was determined to get her back into his bed.
Yes, there were other fish in the sea, but he wanted this fish.
He’d have to cancel with Natasha. No way he was sleeping with her tonight after that interaction with Layla.
Envious of the cling of the fabric that lay against her soft skin, his eyes didn’t leave her rear view as he moved toward the exit with Natasha.
Dick hard. Fighting the urge to go get her.