Chapter 19

LAYLA

~Who are you~?

I stared at the woman in the mirror, barely recognizing myself. Blaire had picked out my clothes; which was helpful because I’d never been on a boat before.

I had no clue what one might wear for a relaxing day out on the lake.

She chose a black and white pinstriped button-up blouse, rolling the sleeves to my elbows and fastening them there with the sewn-in buttons.

Then she took the hem and secured it in a knot above my belly button. My white denim shorts were a respectable length, but they hugged my ass pretty tight.

My canvas shoes weren’t all that different from what I’d normally wear, except they cost the equivalent of ten pairs of Giant Tiger specials.

I grabbed my very expensive new Ray-Bans, set a straw hat on my head, and marched toward the door.

Briggs’s boat wasn’t exactly a tin can. It was a fancy sailboat with sleeping quarters, which meant it had a bed. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Briggs was taking me out on his boat to spend time alone with me. This was an official date. If I stepped off that dock, I better be prepared for some physical activity that went beyond him fondling my boobs.

Was I ready to take that step? He had said we could take things slow, but his definition of slow and my version might not be quite the same.

“There’s my girl!” he called out from the dock when I approached him with Bonnie and Blaire.

They offered to walk to the lake with me, since Briggs was already down there, preparing the boat to go out. He whistled when I stepped onto the dock. “Hello, pretty lady. Would you like to go for a ride?”

My cheeks heated as his eyes traveled down my body, stopping at my bare belly. He glanced up with a wide grin. “I like your outfit.”

“Blaire picked it out.”

“She did a good job.”

“Thanks, little brother,” the sister chuckled. “I thought maybe I’d join you guys today.”

“Uh, you weren’t invited,” Briggs muttered, looking tense.

“Relax, dumbass!” she bellowed. “I’m just messing with you.”

“C’mon, Blaire,” Bonnie said, tugging her sister’s arm. “They wanna be alone.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Bonnie yelled over her shoulder as they walked away.

I stared down at the wooden slats of the dock, the nerves in my belly again working overtime. Briggs stepped forward, capturing my hand. “Are you ready?”

“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled. “How do we get on?”

“Is this your first time on a boat, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

Once I was safely on the boat, I started to relax a little. It was a brilliant summer day. I lost myself in the scenery as Briggs cruised down the lake, while my eyes caressed the shoreline.

I gasped when a sprawling mansion appeared among the stately pines.

“Hey, Briggs!” I hollered over the roar of the engine.

“What’s up, baby?”

“Who lives there?”

“James Cameron.”

“Excuse me?”

“He doesn’t actually live there. It’s his summer house. He’s from around here somewhere. Kapuskasing, I believe.”

“You’re telling me that ~the James Cameron~, as in the guy who directed ~Titanic~ and ~Avatar~, lives on the same lake as you?”

“I don’t know how often he’s actually up here.”

“Have you met him?”

“Of course,” he chuckled, glancing over at me with a crooked grin. “We’re neighbors.”

“And I suppose you’re gonna tell me that ~cottage~ belongs to George Clooney,” I laughed, pointing to another fancy house.

“No. Just some investment banker.”

I gazed out over the water, watching the sun hit the small waves created by the surging boat. A great blue heron dipped down, poking its long snout into the water.

“He caught a fish!” I exclaimed.

Briggs glanced again over his shoulder, a warm smile lighting up his face. But he wasn’t looking at the bird. He was watching me.

“The bird’s up there,” I said, laughing nervously as I pointed to the beautiful creature flapping away to enjoy its lunch.

“I know. But I’d rather look at you.”

I squirmed in my seat, wondering if this was how the poor fish felt in the beak of a hungry bird, about to be devoured. Briggs was pretty forward about what he wanted. He didn’t bring me out on his boat to go fishing.

He slowed the boat down and coasted into a secluded inlet. My belly was a coiled tangle of apprehension when he dropped anchor.

“Are we going to do some fishing here?” I asked, sinking my teeth into my lower lip.

“Do you like fishing, Layla?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve never done it before.”

“Maybe another day,” he suggested. “Today is about us getting to know each other better.”

“Why can’t we do that while we fish?”

“Why do you want to go fishing so bad?”

“Because—”

“Because?”

“Because I’m scared of the other thing we might do.”

“Why are you scared?”

“Because I’ve never done that before, and it’s a huge deal.”

“I agree. A woman’s first time is important. And I’m honored that you want it to be with me. But there’s no hurry. I promised you we would take things slow, and I meant it.”

“You’re a decent guy, Briggs Westinghouse.”

“I’m really not. As I’m sure you know, I went through some wild years. I’ve slept with a lot of women. But you’re the first woman I’ve ever cared about.”

“What about the mother of your daughter?”

“Definitely not.”

“Was she a puck bunny?”

“Yep.”

“You must’ve been young.”

“I was,” he sighed. He reached for my hand, pulling me out of my seat. “I don’t want to talk about that. Today is about us.”

“What would you like to talk about?”

“You.”

“I’m really not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ,” he murmured, his hand dropping to my lower back to pull me against his unyielding body. His lips found mine, drawing my mouth into a slow, sensual kiss.

“Are you hungry?” he whispered.

“Maybe a little,” I panted, breathless from the long kiss.

“Let’s have lunch then.”

He led me to the built-in dining area at the back of the boat. I settled on the white leather bench while he disappeared inside.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, returning a moment later with a huge platter and a bottle of champagne.

“Oh no!” I feigned alarm, laughing. “The last time I drank champagne, it got me into trouble.”

“Are you referring to our phone session?”

“Yes.”

“I would hardly call that trouble,” he chuckled. “I quite enjoyed it.”

“I don’t even know what half of this stuff is,” I said, taking in the luxurious spread.

“Well, those red things are called strawberries.”

“Briggs! I know what a strawberry is! I was talking about the bread and the nuts.”

“The bread is charcuterie and the nuts are pistachios. How have you never had a pistachio?”

“I don’t know,” I said, glancing out at the water. “This is why I would be a shitty chef. I’m too uncultured.”

“Culture can be acquired.”

“I’m a lost cause, Briggs,” I sighed. “I grew up on tater tots and hot dogs.”

He slid in next to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. “You’ve tried a lot of new things lately. Let’s keep working on that palate.”

I turned my head, gazing into his dark eyes. “You’re kind of like my Prince Charming,” I whispered.

“And you’re my Cinderella,” he murmured, caressing my lips. “But I’m not letting you disappear at midnight. Or ever. You’re mine, Layla Lucas.”

I blinked back tears, overcome with emotion. I’d never been wanted by anyone before. My mother didn’t want me. I was an accident, an obligation. My sister kept me for the monthly government check that came until I turned eighteen.

“Why are you crying, sweetheart?”

“It’s nice to be wanted.”

“I want you, baby,” he whispered, intertwining our fingers before kissing me softly. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you. And I’m not just talking about sex.”

“Why?”

“Why do I want you?” he asked, incredulously.

“Yes. Why? I’m a nobody. I have no education, no career. I’m not smart or worldly. You’ll never be able to take me out in public.”

“So?” he shot back, truculently.

“Think. I’m young enough to be your daughter. And my sister’s the woman who drugged you so she could get pregnant with your baby!”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

“How can you not?”

“Because none of those things matter to me. I’m thirty-eight years old. I’ve met a lot of women, even had a few relationships—”

“That’s interesting,” I couldn’t help saying.

“But I’d never experienced that all-consuming desire to be with someone until I met you,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “The moment I saw you there—at the hospital—I was drawn to you by some inexplicable force.”

“My boobs?” I smirked.

“Oh, shut up! I know it sounds crazy and complicated, but there it is—I couldn’t stop it. The more time I spend with you, the stronger it gets. It’s more than,” he shrugged, “physical, you know.”

“Ah, my brains,” I was enjoying this.

“I’m amazed by the person inside that smokin’ hot body. Layla, you’re a wonderful person, inside and out. And I can’t fight it anymore. The thing is, I don’t ~want~ to fight it. Life’s too short—”

“Briggs the philosopher,” I chuckled.

“Go on, girl. Laugh all you want. But I know if I let you go I’ll spend the rest of my life kicking myself.”

“I—um. Wow!” My brain was a useless pile of mush, my tongue paralyzed as I struggled to process his words.

Was he just saying all that to get me into bed? It was possible. I was too inexperienced to know for sure. ~He wants my cherry, that’s all.~

Once I gave it up to him, he might send me packing. Then again, my instincts about people are pretty sound—maybe that’s how I survived—and they were telling me Briggs was the real McCoy. A guy worth taking a chance on.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe that was just—overwhelming.”

I climbed onto his lap, straddling his waist before I leaned close and pressed my lips against his. My brain had left the building. Well, the boat. Because we were outside? Whatever.

I’d like to say my hormones were at the wheel, but I think my heart was actually doing the driving.

Briggs recovered from the momentary shock of my initiative, taking over the kiss with his talented tongue. My nerve endings radiated pleasure, from my aching nipples straight to my famished pudendum.

He kissed down my neck to my collarbone, licking and sucking my flesh while his hands worked feverishly at the buttons on my blouse.

His erection was digging into my butt cheek. He lifted me back so his cock was nestled between my legs. A hungry moan escaped my throat when he thrust upward, grinding against my throbbing core.

He released the knot on my shirt, sliding it off my shoulders. “Do you want me to stop?” His thumbs were worrying the underside of my breasts.

“No.”

He slid his hands around my back, releasing the clasp on my bra. My breasts spilled forth into his waiting hands.

“You’re irresistible, baby,” he murmured, his eyes burning hungrily into mine. He cupped my breasts, squeezing them together, his fingers kneading my flesh while his thumbs teased my nipples.

He lowered his head, circling one nipple with his tongue before latching on. I threw my head back, emitting a cry that echoed over the still lake.

He sucked my sensitive peak until it was hard enough to cut glass. I ground my hips against him, frantic for some friction between my legs.

“Fuck!” he muttered, as the hum of a boat motor cut through the silence. Snatching up my blouse, he helped me into it.

“What about my bra?” I asked as he buttoned me up and tried to retie the knot.

“You don’t need it right now. Let’s eat.”

“What if it’s the paparazzi?”

He shook his head, lifting me off his lap. “There’s no public access to this lake. They would have to trespass through someone’s property. Besides, we’re hidden from view here. If it sounds like they’re getting close, you go inside.”

I picked up a piece of bread, mulling over his words while my throat worked to swallow. Briggs didn’t want any of his hoity-toity neighbors to see me. He wasn’t just concerned about the paparazzi. I was his dirty little secret.