Imperfectly Bad (14 page)

“Aren’t you sick of always screwing in the office?”

“I dunno, I never really thought about it. Screwing is screwing to me.” I leaned down and started to kiss her neck again but she pushed me back.

“I’m serious, Rob.” Looking through her lashes she seemed so innocent, and I felt bad that she’d gotten mixed up with me.

My empathy quickly disappeared. She’d known what she was getting into from the start—I’d never misled her, or made her believe that we’d ever be anything more than fun. Being that forthcoming with her was a courtesy that no other girl had ever been afforded. “I thought we had an agreement?”

“We do.”

“Then what’s the problem?” I asked, slightly annoyed. So much so that instead of carrying on where we’d left of, I reached into my pocket for my smokes. This was going nowhere fast and it was looking like I’d need to head out to get wasted and find some random to fulfill my need. Turning on my heel I started to make my way out of the office.

“The problem is that you deserve more than this,” Layla called after me.

Surprised, I stopped in my tracks and looked over my shoulder, taking a moment to appreciate just how beautiful she really was, and it was then that I realized that I was a fuckin’ lucky guy. Here was this beautiful girl, giving me whatever I wanted, catering to my every desire without a so much as a thought for herself, and yet I continued to be a dick. More so, she goes and says something like that. Something that made me really think about myself, and what I was doing.

“What do you mean?” I asked, still struggling to make head or tail of the situation.

She nibbled nervously on her bottom lip before speaking.

That really pissed me off, by the way. If you’ve got the balls to start to say something, at least follow it through.

“Rob, you deserve so much more than you allow yourself.”

My eyes fell to the floor. For some reason I felt ashamed. “I’m just an asshole,” I argued quietly.

“No. You’re not.” She shook her head and closed the distance between us. “You are smart, and funny. You’re thoughtful.” She leaned into me and gently pressed her lips to mine. “You’re more than the jackass you make yourself out to be.”

“I’m seriously fucked up, huh?”

She shrugged. “We’ve all got baggage.”

I contemplated what she was saying. Outside of Elizabeth, my group of friends didn’t seem to have a whole lot of serious emotional baggage—and, technically, Elizabeth wasn’t really my friend. I’d always considered myself to be a bit of an outsider with the gang, especially when it came to my past. I mean, none of them had been arrested before. Sure, we’d come close a time or two, but I was the only one with a black mark on my record.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

“You? You have baggage?”

“Um, obviously. Why else would you think I’d be able to carry on this
thing
with you?”

“Daddy issues?”

I smirked and she slapped my shoulder.

“No, but I do have issues of the commitment kind.” She pressed her lips into a hard line and shrugged her shoulders. “Parents fought a lot growing up.”

“Sorry.”

And I was. That had to be terrible. At least I’d had the luxury of growing up in a peaceful and loving home. I couldn’t imagine having to witness my parents yelling at each other, or even worse, being physically abusive. I cringed at the thought. Although she hadn’t said anything to suggest that she’d been involved, just thinking about a little Layla crouched in some corner, crying while she watched such hate and discontent around her broke my heart.

“Don’t be, but it does make it hard for me to believe in love and happily ever afters.”

I slid my hand into hers and smiled. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“I had a feeling we were.”

“So how about I take you to my place instead?”

She feigned excitement and gasped. “Rob Ziviani is going to take me to
his
place!”

A smile played across my lips and I pulled her back to me closely, running my fingers up her arm, and feel the goose bumps covering her skin. “We might not believe in happily ever afters and all that bullshit, but we sure as fuck can have fun right now.”

“I like the way you think, Mr. Ziviani.”

And even though, seconds before, I’d been laughing, I cringed hearing her say that sentence. A sentence that held so much meaning. I half expected to be hit with an onslaught of memories.

But I wasn’t.

Instead I felt my heart skip a beat as Layla slipped her hand into mine and without another word, we made our way out of the office to the apartment.

We didn’t talk at all on the way, both of us seemingly lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I was feeling. Things that I hadn’t thought existed within me anymore. To say that it scared the shit out of me was an understatement.

Once inside, I offered Layla a drink but she shook her head as she casually looked around. “How long have you lived here?” she asked.

“Not long. Tyler, my roommate, and I moved here this summer. We were living in a condo with Shane and Emma, two college friends, but once they got married they were ready to be on their own. Tyler and I couldn’t afford the hefty payment on our own, so we moved.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me. She knew I made plenty of money. “Really?”

“No, not really. Tyler was too proud to let me pay more than half, and living with him is important to me. So here we are.”

“Where is he?”

“Not here. I’m assuming he’s with his girlfriend.”

I turned and opened the refrigerator. Leaning down, I paused before grabbing a bottle of water. “He’s
always
with her.” The fact that I was being left behind by my friends was all too real and I took it out on the fridge, slamming it shut before I straightened and chugged some water. Within seconds I felt her arms snake around my waist.

“You don’t have to be alone,.” she whispered into my ear.

I spun around in her arms, reaching behind her to set my bottle down on the counter, and my hands found their way to her cheeks. Taking her face in my hand I looked down at her, searching for a sign. But deep down I didn’t need it, I already knew. My breath became short as I realized I
needed
Layla . She was the key to healing my past. She’d helped me stop thinking about Jenny. It wasn’t something I’d taken note of until that point but, slowly, the hold that Jenny had had on me was melting away. I found myself caring less about her everyday. Instead I wanted Layla. “I don’t plan on being alone again, Layla.”

“But I thought—”

Before she could argue or question me further, I dropped my head to press my lips gently against hers. She froze in place and I could tell she was shocked—hell, I was shocked myself. As our lips rested, barely touching each other, my mind raced with what I was about to do.

The number of nasty things we’d done with our mouths recently would take more than my fingers
and
toes to count, but kissing? No. Even in the most fervent of situations I’d managed to avoid kissing her on the lips. Any other part of her skin was fair game. What Layla and I had was sex, pure and simple. Sex was void of emotion. Kissing… well, kissing was full of it. Kissing was what mothers did to their children’s knees when they hurt themselves. Kissing was a husband’s greeting to his wife after a long day. Kissing was a physical expression of an emotion so deep that words just weren’t enough. When you kissed someone you gave a part of your soul to them, a part that couldn’t be taken back. I’d given so much of my soul to Jenny that it had ruined me for anyone else.

Or at least, that’s what I’d thought.

For the briefest of moments we both remained still and the action felt stilted, felt… false.

“Rob,” she whispered against my mouth and I felt her breathing increase in line with my own. My heart pounded in my chest and all the air left the room.

Without further thought, I tentatively ran my tongue across her lower lip. As if knowing that this was something
big
for me, Layla remained still. Her warm lips felt cool against the heat of my tongue and her breath smelled like cinnamon.

There was no going back from this. If there was one thing Rob Ziviani never did, it was a half-assed job. If I was going to kiss her, it was going to be the best damn kiss of her whole fuckin’ life.

Somewhere along the way I’d made the decision that this
thing
with Layla wasn’t just sex anymore. What it was, I didn’t know. I just knew that I wasn’t afraid.

Not anymore.

Pressing my lips to hers I coaxed her, urging her to open. It had been so long since I’d last done this that I wondered for a second if I remembered how. That was, until the softest of whimpers left her mouth and her tongue darted out to meet mine. Using more force than was likely necessary, I pushed her back against the wall and lifted her hips. In the weeks that we’d been fucking, we’d learned each other’s cues and she immediately knew to wrap her legs around my waist. The part of my brain that dealt with emotion took over and we began kissing like teenagers, our hands exploring each other’s bodies as if each touch were new. And in a way it was. Something inside me was coming to life.

Knowing that we wouldn’t be able to keep it this sedate for much longer, I pulled away, albeit reluctantly. For a second we stared at each other, our eyes saying what our mouths couldn’t. Layla lifted a hand to my mouth, running her finger across my lips that were surely swollen from the vigorous attention they’d been given. Her touch was reverent and the corners of her lips twitched. My heart was pounding knowing that it was the first time in a long time that I had actually
kissed
someone. I mean really kissed, not only with my lips but with my tongue… and maybe even a little bit of my heart.

Needing to pull us both back into the moment, I jerked my head toward my bedroom and said, “Shall we?”

The small smile on her lips grew as she nodded her head. Needing no further encouragement, I carried her to my bedroom and placed her gently onto the bed.

With her hair spread out over my pillow she looked like an angel and I ran my hands down her arm, feeling the goose bumps covering her skin. I slowly unbuttoned her shirt while she nervously nibbled on her lip. Once the fabric fell open I admired her. It was the first time I had really allowed myself to revel in everything Layla. Before it had always been about satisfying a need, rushing toward that euphoric high, but now… well, now it seemed like so much more.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered before slowly trailing featherlight kisses across her stomach. She arched her back and bucked beneath me, and I smiled knowing that she was enjoying this just as much as me.

Intending for this time to be different from the rest, I sat back on my heels and tore my shirt off before unzipping her skirt. She wiggled her hips as I pulled it down, revealing her tiny lace thong. The sight had my heart thumping inside my chest, the anticipation almost more than I could take as I put my knee between her legs, making her spread for me. Usually at this point I was all about the get in, get out. But not this time. This time was different.

Unable to explain to her the change in our relationship, I continued kissing every square inch of her body before pressing myself back to her lips, hoping that she sensed the difference. Whether or not she was feeling what I was became irrelevant as her hands tangled in my hair and we pushed ourselves closer together, creating much needed friction through our clothes. She moaned softly as I ran my hands over her gloriously perfect tits. I smiled against her mouth.

“I haven’t dry humped in ages.”

Layla’s hands made their way to my face and I half expected her to say something, but she didn’t, choosing instead to stare into my eyes.

Over the years I’d seen a chick flick or two, but the sappiness of the storylines never ceased to amaze me. Everything always seemed contrived—the emotions too sickly sweet, too corny, too…
perfect
.

The connection hit like a lightening bolt and I knew that those scenes weren’t contrived, or corny. They were just perfect.

Untold emotions flickered in her eyes for a second before she pressed her lips to mine and kissed me. The first time I had been kissed by a woman in God knows how long. Even when I’d slept with Jenny the other week I’d managed to avoid it, too used to it for anything to change, and too filled with a need to own her to care. But having Layla take charge was a new experience—one I intended to take full advantage of.

Without breaking the seal of our mouths her hands moved to my hips, her fingers managing to undo my belt and unbutton my pants before she pushed them down my thighs with her feet. I snaked an arm underneath her and unsnapped her bra, causing her tits to fall free. Instinctively, I moved to them, drawing her nipples into my mouth and flicking them with my tongue.

Reason told me to go slow, to savor the moment, but my body fought against it and my hand moved down of its own accord to trace the top of her lace thong. She pushed herself up to meet me but I wasn’t about to give it up that easy. Instead I teased her, running my fingers up and down the outside of her panties. The fabric was damp and I knew she was ready for me. As she writhed beneath me, wanting more, I continued to suck and tease her nipple with my mouth at the same time as my fingers dipped into her. She hadn’t been expecting it and gasped as I thrust myself in and out, making sure to take the time to hit her sweet spot.

The chemistry between Layla and I was undeniable. In the short time we’d been together our sex life had been more than incredible. Circumstances dictated that we’d had to be fast, but tonight was different. It didn’t have to be the horny race it usually was. Tonight, we could be slow and methodical. It wasn’t about the finale.

It was all about the journey to get there.

The gift of time was a welcome one and we took our time removing all our clothes—and not just with our hands. When we were finally naked, bared to each other completely, I held my body above hers. Sweat glistened on our skin, and my chest heaved with ecstasy. What had I been thinking of all these years? The actual getting naked part had never been so thrilling… or hot.