What She Deserves Read online

  “Thank goodness it didn’t come to that, and if he listens to his therapist, he’ll hopefully feel better soon,” Dana said.

  “What is it with men and doctors?” Tamika said.

  “Hard-headed,” Dana muttered. “Every one of them is like that. Omar’s the same way. When he played football, he had no choice but to follow the team physicians’ instructions, but now that he’s retired, he acts like he’s allergic to doctors. Last month I had to remind him to take his physical, again. I literally have the yearly appointment on my calendar because if I don’t remind him, he won’t go.” She shook her head.

  Silence.

  “Hmm,” Tamika said, tapping her lips.

  “Hmm,” Layla said too, tapping her chin.

  Dana rolled her eyes and fought the smile at the corners of her mouth. “Guys, don’t start.”

  “What do you mean?” Tamika asked, all wide-eyed and innocent.

  “Omar and I are friends.”

  “We’re friends, and I don’t have a reminder set in my phone for either of you to go to the doctor,” Layla said. “Do you have a reminder for my annual exam on your calendar, Tamika?”

  “I sure don’t. Do you have one for either of us, your best friends?” Tamika asked pointedly, to Dana.

  “Enough. Can we please take the focus off me and my friend, Omar? Thank you.” Dana swiveled in the chair and faced the monitor.

  “Look at you, avoiding the issue. You date all these other men, and Omar is right there,” Tamika said.

  “I’m not avoiding the issue, I’m setting up the next game. Omar is a friend. How many times do I have to explain that?” Dana tapped the keyboard.

  “Till we believe it,” Layla quipped.

  She and Tamika giggled while Dana shot them a dirty look.

  “I have something to tell you guys,” Layla announced.

  “Sounds serious,” Tamika turned in her direction.

  Dana swung to face her, too, offering her full attention.

  Her friends definitely wouldn’t approve of her next remark because after her breakup with Rashad, she’d been very clear that she was done with him for good.

  “I saw Rashad last night.”

  “Voluntarily?” Dana quirked an eyebrow.

  “Yes.”

  “Um, why?” Tamika asked.

  “Because I wanted to talk to him about getting back together.”

  Tamika’s eyes widened.

  “Layla—” Dana started.

  Layla thrust up a hand. “Before you start, I already know what you’re both going to say, believe me, and I agree. Rashad and I won’t work. We’ve been there and done that. He’s too closed off, but I realized that I don’t need a normal relationship with him. I know exactly the kind of man he is, and I know what I’ll tolerate. I intend to focus on the best part of our relationship, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, we know what you mean,” Tamika said with a sly grin.

  Layla blushed.

  “I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me. What exactly are you thinking about doing with Rashad?” Dana asked.

  Layla had no doubt that Dana knew exactly what she was suggesting, but being a practical person, she wanted Layla to explicitly state what she meant.

  “I suggested we have a sexual relationship.”

  “You, Layla Fleming, are going to have a purely sexual relationship?” Dana asked with copious amounts of skepticism.

  “Yes. I can absolutely do that,” she said. “After all this time, I realize I don’t want to be his girlfriend, and I don’t want him as my boyfriend. However, what he lacked in the boyfriend department, he more than made up for in the bedroom.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Dana said.

  “Why not? She’s a grown woman and knows her own mind,” Tamika said.

  Dana shook her head. “Yes, she knows her own mind—”

  “—I’m right here, guys. Please stop talking about me in the third person.”

  “You know your own mind, but you’re not the type to go into a purely sexual relationship with anyone. You’ve never been that way. Tamika or me, yes. You, no. And with Rashad, of all people? The man who made you contemplate quitting your job because he was jealous of Ethan, your boss? The man who had you browsing bridal magazines and researching the meaning of baby names?”

  Heat flamed Layla’s cheeks at the embarrassing reminder that she’d been so into him, practically planning out the next thirty years of their lives while he’d been planning how to escape and move on to the next woman. “That was a long time ago,” she said dismissively. “I know better now, and I’ve dated other men since then. It’s not like I laid around the house pining for him.”

  Dana stared at her.

  “Okay, fine, I pined for a couple of months, but then I recovered and moved on. I’ve been involved with three men since then, and Elijah was only a few months ago.”

  “Which didn’t last. To be honest, I never thought you were truly invested in that relationship,” Tamika said.

  “I liked him, but he wasn’t the one. That’s all.”

  “And what about that guy you’ve been talking to? The one you met online?”

  “I’m still going to talk to him. Rashad and I are only having sex, but we’re allowed to see other people.”

  “I have to agree with Dana,” Tamika said uneasily. “You know, and we know, that Rashad is your kryptonite. That was the whole reason for saying you were moving to D.C. You knew you couldn’t handle him because he might wear you down.”

  “I can handle Rashad.”

  “Since when?” both friends asked at the same time.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I have everything under control,” Layla snapped. She’d prove to herself and to her friends that she was not as weak for Rashad as she used to be.

  “R.I.P. your heart,” Tamika muttered.

  Layla gently elbowed her friend. “Thanks for believing in me.”

  “We don’t want you to get hurt.” Dana’s eyes filled with worry.

  “I’ve got this, you guys, really. I told you my plans because I want you to know. This time around, I only want one thing from Rashad, and that’s sex.” Saying it out loud made her feel stronger and more in control. “That’s it. Nothing else.”

  8

  Layla entered Ethan’s office carrying a large leather bag over her shoulder, his dinner, and a black suit she had picked up from the dry cleaner.

  The office was literally the size of an apartment with plenty of windows and a private dining room and bathroom behind closed doors. The visible area was occupied by typical high-end executive office furniture, a conference room behind glass, and a sitting area for guests. The shades over the windows were currently drawn, blocking out the night and making the room seem extra quiet.

  She placed the sack containing Ethan’s dinner on the desk and turned to face him as he stormed through the door with a frown on his face.

  “Thank goodness, you’re here,” he said, the lines in his forehead disappearing.

  Layla handed over his change of clothes. “Halston is waiting for you downstairs,” she said, as she unzipped the leather bag. “I’ve already made a phone call to the hotel and reminded them about your shellfish allergy. Daria and I touched base, and she reconfirmed your attorney will meet you at the airport for the flight out, and the ones in London will be there when you land and brief you on the ride to court.”

  In addition to his stateside attorney, an architect and another business associate would be joining Ethan on the transcontinental flight in his private jet so he could strategize before they landed. She hoped he took the opportunity to sleep on the plane, but knowing him, he’d be too wired. The man worked way too hard.

  “Perfect. Could you stick around for a bit? I have a few more tasks to go over with you before I leave.”

  “Of course.”

  From the bag, Layla removed a box with his shoes and socks and a small case with the black Pate
k Philippe watch he always paired with his black suits. She followed him into the bathroom, placed the items on the counter, and then quickly exited.

  While he showered, she unpacked his meal, drink, and utensils. Then she took a seat in front of his desk, in a plush burgundy chair that was one of only a few items with color in the room. Everything else was black or white. There were black and white photos on the wall of properties he owned, his desk was black and L-shaped, and the sitting area contained two black leather couches and the only other colorful furnishing in the room—a burgundy leather armchair.

  Layla pulled her iPad from the bag at her feet and clicked on the appropriate notes app to get ready for their meeting. Ethan was going on a last-minute trip to London, one he wasn’t pleased about because of its unexpectedness. Renovations had been stalled on one of his buildings for months. He’d let his people over there handle the problems, and today he’d learned there was a pending court case that he hadn’t been informed about. Without a doubt, someone was getting fired.

  That’s why she was sitting in his office after nine at night but was accustomed to dealing with unexpected crises in working for him. While she waited for him to finish up, she replayed the other night with Rashad. The kiss, the way he held her, and her own reaction. Tingles shimmied from her breasts down to her inner thighs. She loved kissing him and would happily do it all the time if he’d let her.

  Ethan exited the bathroom looking refreshed, fastening his cufflinks as he moved with powerfully graceful strides across the floor.

  She came to her feet and straightened his tie. “Better,” she said.

  “Thank you.”

  As she watched him walk around the desk, she understood why Rashad had been concerned about their relationship. Ethan was a good-looking, virile, powerful man. Yes, she noticed all of that from day one when she interviewed with him, but not once during their five-year work relationship had he made an inappropriate comment or made a pass at her. In fact, he had a very low tolerance for that type of behavior from men in his position.

  She essentially saw herself as his companion, except she got paid for the work. Her job was to make his life easier, and she did that by being efficient and anticipating his needs. For instance, tonight she brought him dinner, though he hadn’t mentioned he hadn’t eaten yet. She knew he sometimes skipped meals or ate unhealthy snacks when he was busy. Being that he was probably going to be preoccupied with meetings and phone calls on the plane, and when they landed he’d be thrown into more meetings, he needed some sustenance to continue performing at his peak.

  He sat at the desk and while he ate went over a list of tasks he needed her to complete while he was out of town. Nothing too taxing, and all could be handled within a day, which meant she’d get a break while he was gone. When he finished the meal, he jumped up and grabbed his briefcase, looking around the room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

  “I’ll see you when I get back,” he said.

  “Have a safe trip,” Layla called after him.

  She removed a cotton sack from the leather bag at her feet and went into the bathroom. She tossed in Ethan’s dirty clothes and then dropped the empty food containers in the trash. Turning out the light as she left the office, she headed to the elevator.

  Once in the SUV, her phone rang, and Rashad’s name flashed across the screen on the dashboard. Excitement thrummed in her veins. She’d intended to call him when she got home but was pleased to see he’d reached out to her.

  “Hello?”

  “What are you doing?”

  Layla smiled through the biting of her lip. Good grief, she could barely contain her excitement.

  “I just left Ethan’s office. He’s on his way overseas on a business trip.”

  “Does that mean you’re free tonight?”

  “Actually, it does.”

  “And Aunt Flo is gone?”

  She smiled. “Yes, she is.”

  “It’s before midnight. I want to see you. You want me to come to you, or will you come to me?”

  Layla thought for a minute and then decided going to his home gave her leverage because she could leave whenever she wanted—as opposed to having to get him out of her apartment if he came to her.

  “I’ll come to your place, but I need to stop at Ethan’s first to drop off a few things. Then I’ll come over.”

  “The slave driver continues to slave drive even when he’s not here, huh?”

  “He’s not bad, and I should have a few quiet days while he’s gone.”

  Rashad grunted but didn’t comment further. “How long before you get here?”

  “Anxious, are you?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe. How long?”

  “Less than an hour. I’ll call when I’m close.”

  “Do that. I’m waiting.”

  Layla pushed the speedometer higher on the way to Ethan’s mansion. At first, she wasn’t sure how this was going to work, but now she saw that it was completely possible for them to reignite their sexual relationship, and everything would be nice and uncomplicated.

  They both knew what they were getting themselves into. Unlike last time, there would be no surprise conversations about slowing things down, and she was pleased that she hadn’t completely capitulated to him. She’d created her own version of a relationship, one where she didn’t have concerns about falling for Rashad again. Because she wouldn’t. She saw through him now and knew he wasn’t the man for her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself in the search for Mr. Right.

  Her stop at Ethan’s lasted twenty minutes because she took a quick shower in one of the guest suites when she dropped off his personal belongings. Before leaving, she picked up two other suits that needed adjusting, which she’d take to his tailor first thing in the morning.

  Back on the road, she called Rashad and let him know she was on her way. He gave her the password for the doorman, that way he’d send her right up when she arrived. She parked her car and then entered the lobby of the apartment building, and minutes later she was in the elevator, climbing to the eleventh floor.

  Rashad opened the door before she knocked, which meant the doorman had alerted him of her arrival. He had the appearance of casual relaxation in jeans and a grey Henley that hugged his biceps and showed off the contours of his muscular torso, but his eyes were a dead giveaway. They focused on her with intensity, blaring the truth of his desire like a beacon in the night.

  “Hi,” she said softly, already panting.

  He pulled her into the apartment with one arm around her waist and didn’t lose any time kissing her hungrily and thoroughly. Layla flung her arms around his neck and willingly opened her mouth beneath his, sucking on his tongue and thrusting hers into his.

  “I feel like I’ve waited forever for this,” he said huskily, his voice sounding ravenous and thick. He sucked on her ear lobe and kissed her neck.

  “Me too,” Layla gasped, straining on her toes to better position the hard ridge pressing against her lower stomach. She’d anticipated this night with such longing that at times she felt as if the ache would never go away—as if her entire body had become a single throbbing nerve.

  Rashad’s hands lowered to her denim-clad bottom, and no more talking was necessary.

  They both knew why she was there.

  9

  With their lips clinging to each other as if seared by the heat of metal, Rashad and Layla stumbled into the bedroom—dark and dominated by a king bed with navy sheets and six large pillows neatly stacked against each other. A large lamp cast a ghostly glow, pushing against the shadowy corners and offering a glimpse of heavy wood furniture in the room.

  Rashad ravaged her mouth with deep, probing kisses, his tongue breaching her lips and his teeth teasing with stinging bites and nips. He traced the dips and curves of her body with knowing hands, and she, too, explored him—reacquainting herself with the beauty of his form. She shoved her hands beneath his shirt and caressed the warm skin covering his back an
d the taut muscles of his abdomen.

  They stripped naked in what seemed like a matter of seconds. God, he was magnificent—tight muscles overlaid by smooth dark skin, with a body that looked like it had been sculpted from black onyx.

  Rashad lowered her to the bed, and over two hundred pounds of hard male came down between her thighs. His hand slid below her belly, and he let out a satisfied groan when he found her dripping wet with want. She arched her back and eased her legs wider, her breath stuttering over her tongue as she struggled to breathe.

  He savored her, lingering at the sensitive spot behind her ear before leisurely kissing her shoulders and collarbone, leaving her skin flaming in the wake of his lips. Moving lower to the tops of her breasts, he sucked and licked and squeezed his tongue into her cleavage. Layla bit down on her bottom lip, tossing her head from side to side as she ached for him to make the final foray to her painfully tight nipples.

  “Please,” she whispered, running her fingers over his soft, coily hair. That’s all she could manage, unable to bear the torture any longer.

  With excruciating slowness, Rashad cupped one breast and then finally—finally!—pulled her caramel nipple into his hot mouth. Layla gasped and sank her fingers into his shoulders, the overwhelming pleasure making her feel as if she were about to go mad. His teeth tugged while his tongue soothed with a velvet caress. Warm pleasure coursed through her veins and her sexual need for him surged and swelled like a rising tide.

  He kissed a path down her body, hands staying busy, clearly on a mission to reclaim every inch of her. His fingers brushed her hip bone and feathered over her thighs. Her calves and ankles didn’t go untouched, nor did her bottom or the curve at the base of her back when he flipped her onto her stomach.

  When he swept aside her hair so his lips could touch her nape, she sighed audibly and curled her fingers into the sheets. He knew his way around a woman’s body—specifically her body and had turned her into a writhing mess, the interior of her thighs throbbing and sticky and wet. He buried his face in her neck, rubbing his hard dick against the crack of her ass, and she rotated her hips against him, listening with satisfaction as he gasped at her lewd movements. Arching her spine, she pushed back harder, and he shoved his fingers into her hair and tugged back her head.