roused him and said her goodbyes.
She’d hoped Ben would text for dinner or drinks when he finished working. But she hadn’t heard from him all day. She considered texting him as she parked her car, but decided a night alone wouldn’t be bad. This thing with Ben had an expiration date, and she didn’t want to get too attached.
As she unlocked the main door and stepped into the foyer of her building, Layla stopped at the sight of a box in front of her door.
Awesome. That’s probably from the psycho who’s harassing me. A nice bomb or severed body part to finish out the weekend.
She considered calling Ben instead of opening it, but then she blew out a breath over how weak she felt even thinking it. Layla Carson did not need a big, strong man to come open a box for her.
Squaring her shoulders, she looked at Prince, who sat in front of the door with his head cocked at her.
“Should I just open it?” she asked. Prince sniffed the package, and Layla mustered her courage, lifting the lid of the plain white box. She laughed softly when she saw a pair of boxers folded in the bottom, with a fancy cupcake sitting on top.
She unlocked her door, carrying the box in with her. As she pulled out the cupcake, its sweet, fresh scent wafted her way, and she smiled. It was piled with perfect swirls of white frosting and had a long-stemmed cherry perched on top.
Part of her wanted to keep it untouched, but her sweet tooth won out. She gave a low sound of satisfaction as she bit into the fresh crimson-colored cake. Red velvet? It didn’t taste like it.
Layla tore off a chunk for Prince and he swallowed it whole. It wasn’t until she got to the center that she realized what flavor it was, and she threw her head back with laughter as she reached into her purse for her phone to text Ben.
Cherry with cream filling? You’re too much, Sergeant Montrose.
His return message popped up quickly.
You like?
Layla sat down on her sofa and curled her feet up beneath her as she wrote back.
I love. About this cream filling . . . can you hold on while I swallow every last drop?
She ate more of the cupcake as she waited, feeling a little guilty about her carb intake tonight.
Wish I was there to watch you.
Layla pictured his long arms wrapped around her and remembered the sweet, torturous feel of grinding herself into him on this very couch just recently.
You’re welcome to come watch.
The thought of seeing him made her skin tingle with desire. Was it just because they hadn’t slept together yet? She wondered if Ben would lose interest once they had.
Wish I could, but I’m still working. I’m on surveillance.
His message made Layla’s brows arch with interest.
Like a stakeout?
Yeah, but it’s boring as hell. I’ve been sitting here with this asshole for four hours now, and I’ve got a lot more to go.
Layla opened the picture he sent and saw a dark haired, scruffy man who she could see was sitting in the passenger seat of car with a bored expression. She quirked her lips up as she wrote back.
Do you have handcuffs?
Of course I do, Cupcake . . . why do you ask?
Just wondering. There are so many things you can do with handcuffs.
Layla stretched out on her couch, feeling a post-binge coma in her near future. She’d have to get up early and work out tomorrow, but Ben’s next message made her lose interest in anything but him.
That’s true. Did you know some people use them in bed?
Is that right? That could be fun.
I don’t need handcuffs, though. I could hold you down with one hand and still have one free for whatever else I want to do to you.
His words sent a jolt of arousal between Layla’s thighs. The image his message conjured made her wish he was with her right now. She was still thinking of it when his next words came through.
Would you like that?
I would. You’re very sexy. I think I’ll go change into your boxers now.
See you soon, Cupcake. Get your locks changed.
Chapter 6
Layla’s morning
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
Jan Washburn
Terri Blackstock
Norah Simone
Barry Kemp
G.P. Taylor
Alan Cumyn
Linda Barnes
Lisa Jackson