Layla and Norah excuse themselves to go check on their friend, so I take advantage of their absence.
“Ro, you should go talk to her,” I suggest to him.
His amber eyes lock onto mine as his ginger eyebrows furrow. “She’s not going to tell me shite. Alicia is more likely to toss a pint in my face than actually open up to me.”
“I’m not saying to go storming up there, demanding an explanation, mate. Maybe just tell her that if she needs to talk, you’re here for her. And casually mention that if you need to go take care of some arsehole, you will.”
“Right,” Eamon agrees. “And you know we’d help you out. Men who can’t take no for an answer from a woman deserve a proper knuckle supper.”
“Aye, thanks, mates.” Ro rubs a hand through his red hair and releases a long breath. “Here goes nothing.”
Eamon and I watch as he saunters to the bar, leaning his forearms across the top, and mutters something to Layla and Norah. The lasses say their goodbyes and return to our table, relaying what information they gathered. Eventually the conversation shifts to Mac and Myra and the baby girl that will be joining them soon. We all agree that they’ve come a long way, but Mac will need to rethink the way he views women if he’s to be a good father to their daughter.
I angle my body towards Layla, bumping my knee with hers. She glances at me, pulling her long braid over her shoulder. I follow the movements of her fingers as they glide over it until she reaches the end and starts rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. Reaching out, I gently tug the braid from her grasp and twist it around my finger absently. I love the feel of her hair in my hands, whether it’s running my fingers through the strands as we cuddle, winding it around my hand while I take her from behind, orburying my fingers into the roots while she’s on her knees before me like she was last night.
Layla clears her throat, breaking me from my fantasies. When I meet her eyes, she has one brow raised and pointedly looks down. Unknowingly, I’ve wound her braid around my palm, and my cock is noticeably hard. Rather than being embarrassed, I grin and wink at her, give her hair a gentle tug, then release it before shifting in my seat to hide the evidence of my thoughts. She snorts in amusement, shaking her head slightly.
Eamon and Norah are oblivious to what’s happening across the table from them because they’re clearly in their own world. He’s whispering in her ear and, whatever he’s saying, has her cheeks turning the same shade as her hair. His arm shifts under the table and if I’m not mistaken, I’d say he’s sliding his hand to her inner thigh because she squirms and her arm darts under the table.
A handful of months ago, after Ashley left me, I would have been a miserable bloke watching these two, but now all it does is give me ideas and a strong urge to usher Layla somewhere private. Not tonight though. We’ve been at it like rabbits since getting back from Texas, and I promised to keep my hands—mostly—to myself when we get back to her place. I’m allowed to hold her while we watch a movie, but I’m under strict orders to keep my fingers—and other body parts—above the belt.
As soon as we walk in the door, she’s off to her room while I amble into the kitchen to make a snack. Unwrapping the packet of popcorn, I toss it in the microwave and set the timer, grabbing a beer and filling Layla’s monster-sized water cup while it cooks.
“What do you want to watch, Lovely?” I call on my way to the living room, snacks in hand.
“Something funny, please!” She hollers back. “I think tonight was serious enough with Alicia. We could use something lighthearted.”
“Aye, good call.” Settling into the corner of the couch, I flip through the comedy section on Netflix until I find one we haven’t watched together yet, queuing it up.
The sound of her bare feet padding down the hall causes me to look herway andfecking hell. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when she looks good enough to eat in my Seahawks hoodie, that little pair of sleep shorts, and her hair in a knot on her head? I must be staring at her in some sort of way because she stops short and glares at me.
“No.”
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Teagan O’Brien, do not look at me like that.” She pops a hip out, resting a fist on it, and looks pointedly at my cock. Grey sweatpants do nothing to hide an erection. “We are not fucking tonight. My body needs a break!”
I stick my bottom lip out, pouting like a petulant child. “But you look so good in my jumper, love. Seeing you in my clothes gets me heated up.”
Layla closes her eyes and inhales deeply like she’s searching for patience. Her lips move silently, counting to ten before exhaling. God, she’s adorable.
Finally, she looks at me. “Do you need to go take a cold shower?”
“Fuck no,” I exclaim. “That sounds brutal.”
“Then get yourself under control. I was really looking forward to just cuddling and watching a movie with you.”
The corners of her lips turn down and her eyes fall. She looks so disappointed and I can’t stand it.
“You’re right,” I concede. “I’m sorry, love. What you’re wearing is not an excuse for me to misbehave. Now, get over here so I can hold you.”
Layla fights a smile, but loses the battle. She rolls her eyes before closing the distance and sinking onto the sofa beside me. I slip my arm around her, tugging her closer to burrow into my side, kissing the side of her head now resting perfectly in the crook of my neck. We get a good laugh out of the movie, but it’s also a peaceful experience. Doing something mundane with Layla is just as enjoyable as feeling her naked body writhing beneath mine—just a different type of enjoyment.
* * *
I’m completely shattered. It’s been a long week, between classes, football, and work; it feels like I’ve been up to ninety. Graduation is looming and Istill haven’t figured out what I’m going to do. I’ve been in communication with the North Carolina Independent Colleges and Universities nonprofit organization regarding a couple of positions they have open, but nothing concrete has come from it yet. It’s not my dream job, but it will be a good way to get my foot in the door for other opportunities. If all else fails, I talk to my manager about working full-time with the kids at the gym. They’re a good time and I hate the idea of leaving them. Chances are that even if I do get hired on at NCICU, I’ll still work part-time, or at least volunteer, for the after-school program.
It’s Friday, and I just finished a scrimmage at the campus pitch. It’s been unseasonably hot the last few days and today was no exception. Tearing my goalie gloves from my hands, I tuck them under my arm as I make my way to the bench where my water bottle sits. Coach is talking to a man I’ve never seen, but his attire suggests he’s a scout of some sort. Following their line of sight, I realize they’re watching Eamon. And for good reason. He was on fire today. Not that he doesn’t always give his all, but he played fiercely, scoring a goal on every attempt. I’m just glad we were playing on the same side or my status as a goalie would have gone down the jacks.
