“What?”
“That look on your face just then.”
Her eyes came to mine and she held me there. “I like it when you call me baby.”
Fuck.
Fucking hell.
“Get here,” I growled, desire swirling in my gut.
She didn’t hesitate this time and came to me.
My arm went around her, and she curled herself into me.
“You look like you’ve been to hell and back,” she whispered against my skin.
“I’m still dealing with shit, Layla. I’m not gonna be an asshole and walk away again, but I need you to know it could get rough.”
“I can handle rough. But you’ve gotta let me in.”
“I’m barely keeping my shit together at the moment, and I have no fucking clue how to let someone in on that. I don’t even know if I want you having to deal with it,” I admitted, and then added, “Fuck, it’s like I’m in a million fucking pieces and I don’t even know where the fuck to start to fix it.”
She shifted so she was propped up on her elbow. “Donovan, sometimes you have to shatter to find strength, and sometimes you have to let someone in to help you put the pieces back together.”
I held my breath for a moment, and as I let it out, I cupped her cheek. “I don’t fucking deserve you.”
Her hand came up to rest against mine. “Yes, you do. We all deserve someone who sees us, and accepts us for who we are.”
I shut my eyes and focused on my breathing.
This is too good to be true.
My body buzzed with a concoction of emotions.
Happiness.
Peace.
Awe.
Fear.
My mind was like a racetrack with the emotions racing through it.
Fighting for recognition.
Fighting for domination.
When will the madness end?
Her warm lips pressed against mine.
A balm to my chaos.
“Open your eyes,” she whispered.
I opened them.
Caring eyes stared back at me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
“Not now.”
My chest tightened.
“Our parents taught us to expect rejection. We have to unlearn that, baby.” She brushed her lips against mine again. “Together,” she whispered.
Fuck.
The ghosts of my childhood circled, fighting for their place in my soul. I always let them in, but not tonight. Tonight, I clung to Layla. My lifeline to a new place in the world.
Together.
***
“Ashley!”
She fought her attacker. Frantic hands clawed at his face, drawing blood. He grunted and punched her. She fell to the ground.
I struggled to run to her, my legs heavy and unable to move fast enough.
She kicked her attacker, but her frantic efforts were useless. He towered over her and ripped her dress up, panties down.
My heart almost exploded in my chest.
Terror filled me.
I can’t get to her.
“Donovan!”
Her scream froze my blood.
Ice slithered down my spine.
She turned her face to me.
Ashley was gone.
The horror of my life pressed hard against me. It crushed me, flattened me, and squeezed me until I could hardly breathe.
I gasped for air.
“Layla!”
No.
I sat bolt upright in bed.
Pain shot through me at the sudden movement, but I pushed through it. I reached across the bed to find Layla. I had to touch her. Had to know she was okay.
“Layla.” My hand pushed against her, shaking her awake.
“Donovan . . . what . . . ” She sat up and bleary eyes stared back at me. Questioning.
I cupped her cheek.
“Thank fuck,” I breathed out on a choppy breath, and laid my forehead against hers.
She reached for me. “What’s wrong, baby?”
I roughly pulled her close. Enveloped her in my arms. Didn’t even feel the pain as her body connected with my bruises. Layla wasn’t capable of inflicting pain on me.
“Just a bad dream,” I murmured.
Her arms came around me, and we cradled each other for what seemed an eternity.
I never want to let you go.
I won’t ever let the evil take you from me.
Not this time.
Chapter Fifteen
Layla
The smell of coffee drew me away from my bed and into the kitchen.
Holy shit.
Donovan stood, back to me, in my kitchen, muscles shifting under his skin as he moved his arms.
A happy sight first thing in the morning.
He heard me and turned.
I ignored the bruises on his body.
Smiling at him, I murmured, “Morning.”
Heat simmered in his eyes. “Come here,” he ordered.
My tummy fluttered.
I did what he said, and he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.
I could get lost in his kisses. Rough to show his passion and need. Soft to show his tenderness and care. And the way he injected rough and soft into the one kiss made my knees weak.
When he ended the kiss, he said, “I didn’t know what you like for breakfast but I figured the bacon and eggs I found in the fridge were a sign.”
He made me breakfast.
His eyes narrowed.
“What was that look?” he asked.
I grinned and laid a palm to his face. “That was happiness. And pure fucking amazement that I finally found a man who knows how to use kitchen utensils.”