The Owner of His Heart (7 page)

Nathan didn’t particularly care for either policeman, but he really didn’t like the younger one.

“So you don’t have any idea who might have done this?” the older cop asked. “You don’t have any enemies? Any disgruntled patients?”

“No, I get along with all of my patients. And I don’t have any enemies” Layla looked over at him. “None that I know of at least.”

“Why are you looking at him?” the Latino officer asked.

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Because she thinks I might know something about this incident that she doesn’t. But I don’t.”

The older cop looked between the two of them. “She might be on to something, there, Mr. Sinclair. Are there any ex-girlfriends lurking around who might have it out for your new one?”

“We’re not—” Layla started.

But Nathan cut her off with a simple, “No. I don’t do ex-girlfriends.”

“What does than mean?” the younger cop asked.

“I don’t stay with anyone long enough for it to be considered a relationship.” Before the younger cop could ask a follow-up question, Nathan lobbed one of his own. “Why wasn’t a detective sent to take her report? She’s been threatened twice now. Shouldn’t we have someone with actual investigative skills on the case?”

The younger cop’s back went up when he said this, but the older cop just answered, “I’m sorry we don’t meet your standards, Mr. Sinclair.”

Layla laid a hand on his arm. “Nathan, don’t be rude,” she said. “I’m sorry, officers. He’s just a little upset. We both are, but I’m really grateful you came out. And I wish I had more for you to go on.”

She smiled at them, and the younger one relaxed his stance. As always with Layla, Nathan wondered if she knew the effect she had on men, or if she just wielded that wide smile of hers with unthinking abandon.

“We know this is hard for you. Here’s my card,” the younger cop said. He gave her a smile, one which probably came off to Layla, who liked to believe the best of everybody, as gentle, but which Nathan could clearly see for the flirtation it was. And as if to confirm his suspicions, the cop said, “Maybe we can swing by here tomorrow just to make sure everything is okay.”

Nathan stood up and took the card before Layla could. He drew himself up to his full six feet, three inches, which put him at a couple inches taller than the younger cop. “That won’t be necessary. Layla’s coming home with me. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to stay in this apartment alone.”

“There wasn’t any breaking and entering,” the young cop said. “She’ll probably be fine.”

Hot anger burned inside his chest at the thought of this man using this crime as an excuse to romance Layla.

“Probably isn’t good enough for me,” Nathan said. And much to his surprise, he realized it wasn’t. Sure he wanted her gone from Pittsburgh, but he wanted her to leave in one piece. “I’ll see you two out now.”

***

Layla’s first thought had been to reject Nathan’s offer to spend the night at his place. But she really didn’t want to stay in her apartment, at least not until the door had been repainted. And the landlord had already come by and said it would take at least a couple of days for that. Actually, at first he had said a couple of weeks, but before Layla could stop him, Nathan bullied him into getting it repainted within forty-eight hours.

Nathan Sinclair, she thought to herself, seemed to have a gift for pressuring others to get his way. And Layla again wondered what could have possibly gone down between them back in the day. Was he the Pittsburgh boyfriend her father had mentioned, and if so, what had she done to make him want her out of his life so badly?

She watched him at the door, instructing the two police officers to interview her neighbors and found it hard to believe he had a twin brother, that there were two guys as gorgeous as him running around the city of Pittsburgh—

Wait, the brother! It suddenly occurred to her that if she wanted information about what happened during the year she’d lost, there might be one more path open to her. According to Nathan, she’d once said he and his brother only had looks in common. Maybe that meant his brother was nicer than him. Maybe he’d be open to answering her questions. She had to find him. In fact, the longer she thought about it, the more it seemed finding Andrew Sinclair was the only answer to her current set of problems.

“Do you want to pack an overnight bag?”

Layla looked up. Nathan stood in the open doorway, having apparently sent the police officers on their way and was now waiting for her answer.

***

To Layla’s pleasant surprise, Nathan didn’t live in a large house or a high rise, but in a converted warehouse loft in the South Side, near historic East Carson Street. However, that pleasant surprise didn’t last long. While the red brick warehouse seemed quaint and vintage on the outside, when he slid open the heavy steel fire door, he revealed a five thousand square foot space that looked like the home version of his office. It was filled with heavy black furniture. In the open-plan kitchen, nearly every appliance, large and small, was made out of grey stainless steel, including the square knobs on the wood cabinets, which had been painted over with black lacquer. There wasn’t anything in the entire place that couldn’t be described as either sleek or modern down to the slate grey cork flooring.

“Wow,” she said, looking around. “This is certainly…you.”

But he wasn’t listening, because he was too busy typing on his smartphone in the office area on the other side of the kitchen.

“The guest bathroom is over there if you need to freshen up,” he said. His voice echoed slightly in the large space.

“Thanks,” she called back. Layla wouldn’t mind a long bath after the night she’d had. “But, um, where’s the guest bed?”

He still hadn’t looked up from his phone. “I don’t have one.”

Layla’s eyes went from side to side. “You have two bathrooms, but you only have one bed?”

He shrugged. “I’m not big on entertaining guests or sharing my space.”

Layla held up a hand. “So let me get this straight. You bought an obnoxiously large loft, filled it with black furniture, and only got one bed, so you wouldn’t ever have to put up with anyone who wasn’t here to have sex with you?”

He chuckled. “Why do you think they call it a bachelor pad?”

She started to say something smart, but then thought twice. She was here to snoop around for Andrew Sinclair’s contact information, she reminded herself, not to insult him. Instead she went over to the large black wrap-around couch and said, “Thank you for having me. I appreciate it, and I don’t mind sleeping on the couch at all.”

Now he looked up, his cold grey eyes almost glittering in the loft’s dim light. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly let you take the couch. Really, I’m fine sleeping here. It looks like a really great couch. Soft…”

The words died in her throat, as he laid his phone down on the office desk and started walking across the large space toward her. He paused for a few seconds, but only to strip off his suit jacket and toss it onto the couch that, according to him, she wouldn’t be sleeping on. There was absolutely no mistaking his intentions, and Layla once again had to tamp down opposite urges to run and stay rooted to the spot.

Rooted to the spot won out, and she ended up feeling like caught prey when he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to him for a kiss that pushed all thoughts of sleeping on the couch out of her head.

CHAPTER TEN

THIS was not how Nathan had expected the night to go. Growing up the scion of an old money family, life experience had taught him you could make any problem go away if you threw enough money at it. He had thought he’d get Layla to sign the contract and leave on his terms before the Sinclair Ball and his brother’s return to town. But instead he’d ended up spending the majority of his evening furious at whoever had spray painted “LEAVE” on her door. For the first time in his entire life, he felt compelled to protect someone other than himself.

She had looked so scared outside of that apartment door, for a few seconds he had actually wished he could be more like Andrew, a nurturer by nature, someone who knew exactly what to say and do when women got upset. Instead, he had invited her back to his place, with a somewhat vague plan to keep his hands off of her for at least twenty-four hours, even if she was sleeping in his bed. He had never been a gentleman, but he had figured he could play the part since Layla was shaken up.

But when she offered to sleep on the couch, the old anger resurfaced. It had felt like she was threatening him, insinuating if he didn’t lay claim to her and let her know exactly what he wanted her next forty-eight hours in his abode to entail, then she would relegate him to friend territory.

And he was many things, but he had never been and would never be Layla Matthew’s friend. So he’d kissed her, and much like the last time, it immediately sent him up in flames. His greedy desire for her burned hot and relentless inside of him, making him unable to care what she’d been through or that she had indeed looked as tired as she said she was when they had argued earlier back at her Squirrel Hill apartment.

At that moment, he needed to be inside her, needed to know she wanted him the way he wanted, had always wanted her. And she was already responding to him – moaning underneath his kiss and rubbing her breasts against his chest, so he couldn’t help but want to rip off the clothes that separated him from her beautiful body.

“Please,” she said again, and he groaned. Why did she have to do this to him? Make him want her like this?

He swept her up into his arms and carried her to his bed. He removed everything but his underwear as quickly as possible, but caught her hands above her head when she tried to take off her own clothes.

“No,” he said, digging a hand under the elastic waistline of her scrubs and cupping her mound, which was once again covered by a thin pair of cotton panties. “This is for me. Keep your hands up here.”

He let go of her then, so he could pluck off her socks and shoes, untie her pants, and pull them down himself, revealing the lower half of her body slowly, like a birthday gift.

He moved aside the crotch of the cotton panties, and she jumped when he pushed two large fingers into her opening. “You’re already so wet,” he said. “We’re going to have to do something about this.”

The lips of her soaking slit quivered around his fingers and he could feel a responding gush of cream at his words, making her even slicker than she’d been before.

He pulled his fingers out.

“No,” she moaned. Her hips lifted and grinded, seeking the heat of whatever body part he was willing to give her, and he had to work hard to get his body under control and not whip his cock out and plunge into her right then.

“Sshh,” he said, pulling her panties down her hips and over her knees and finally off her body all together.

He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and kissed the inside of her thigh, before delving into her opening with his tongue.

“Oh!” Her head lolled back and she ground her hips against his face.

Her response was almost as good as her taste. He stroked his tongue further inside of her and pushed his nose against her swollen bud, determined to make her as crazy with lust as she was making him.

“Oh, I can’t. It’s too much.” She was panting now, but he didn’t stop, instead he pushed against her with his nose again, and she bucked underneath him, her hips thrashing as her head whipped back and forth in wild abandon. Then she exploded for him, tugging at his hair and coming with one large moan.

When she was done, she sagged against the pillows, but he wasn’t done with her yet. He crawled up over her body, so they were face to face. “Say please again,” he commanded.

He still had his underwear on, but dragged his thick erection across her still quivering pussy, so she could feel him in her afterlight. She trembled at the touch of his cloth-covered erection, lifting her hips toward it.

But he shifted, so she couldn’t grind against him, and was instead forced to feel the pressure of his cock against her opening but not have any of it. Yet. “Say please,” he said again.

“Please,” she said. Her eyes were helpless with need.

He pulled off her top and was grateful to find a front clasp bra this time. He released her breasts and palmed the left one. “That gets you nipple play,” he said, rubbing his thumb over her hard, dark nipple. “Now say please again.”

“Please,” she said again without any hesitation whatsoever.

He rolled away from her and a few deft moves later, had his underwear off and a condom pulled over his large, pulsing dick. But when he lay back down on top of her, he still didn’t give her what she really wanted. Instead, he lodged the large knob of his penis against her opening.

Her breathing became very shallow, and she immediately let loose a series of “Please, please, please.”

“Please what?” he asked her.

“Please, Nathan,” she said.

“What do you want me to do to you? Tell me exactly.”

“I want you,” she said, frantically trying to move her hips, but he pressed harder into her, giving her even less purchase to move and even more pressure on her aching bud.

“Please put it inside of me,” she said. “Please.”

“Put what inside of you,” he asked against her lovely neck.

“Put your penis in me.”

His cock throbbed, demanding he do exactly what she’d requested
now
. But he stayed in control of himself.

“How do you want me inside of you? Missionary? From behind? Sideways?”

Her lust-filled gaze cleared for just a moment and she looked directly into his eyes. “Anyway you want me, I want you,” she said.

He had been planning to play with her a little bit more, tease her until she sobbed for it, but that statement broke him. He lifted up and plunged into her, giving her all of him in one hard thrust.

She gasped as if she’d just had the wind knocked out of her, but then she began moving her hips against his, her legs squeezing him around the waist. He lifted up on one forearm and took control back from her frenzied thrusts, forcing her into a slow, rolling rhythm with him.