Page 85 of Layla

I just shake my head, knowing that I’m grinning. “Because I like you. And you make some interesting points.”

Those fiery blue eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare try to get on my good side by patronizing me.”

“I’m not patronizing you. What you’re saying is interesting. Even though I have no problems with romance novels or anything else supposedly girly.”

She points at me, glaring. “That’s a patronizing smile.”

“It’s a happy smile.”

“You’re happy because I’m ranting?”

I slide from my arm chair to join her on the couch. “I told you before, I like your ranting.” I try to slip an arm around her but she pushes me away. “I mean it. I like how passionate you are about things. I like how smart you are. How much you care.”

She rolls her eyes but I can see her expression soften and this time, when I pull her into my arms, she lets me.

“You sound just like Dee, you know that?”

She turns in my arms to face me, a bewildered expression on her face. “I do?”

I nod, bringing my forehead to hers. “You do. She was giving me a lecture about GMO crops the other day and I swear she had the exact same expression on her face as you did just now. And she waved her hands around just like—”

“I wasn’t waving my hands around!”

I grab one of her hands and bring it to my mouth. “You were. It was hot.”

She lets out a snort of laughter. “You’re so weird.”

I grin. “You love it.”

Her eyes widen a little and since I know this woman pretty damn well, I’m sure it was my use of the L-word that freaked her out. But after the briefest moment, she leans in to me even closer, her smile shy and so freaking adorable, and says, “I do love it.”

My breath leaves me in a rush. Okay, so it’s not like she explicitly said she loves me, but I know what a big step that was for her, using that word at all. I can see in her expression that she’s feeling vulnerable, but she’s not pulling away from me. She’s not making a joke or trying to distract both of us with sex. She’s here with me, in this moment, fear and all.

And that means a hell of a lot.

“You are the most surprising woman I’ve ever met,” I tell her, my voice hoarse with emotion. She scrunches up her face a little, like she’s about to argue, but I press on. “Just when I think I know you so well, you show me some other little hidden place inside this huge heart of yours and I fall all over again.”

She swallows hard. “You do?”

I kiss her once, smiling against her lips. “That very first night on the bus, when I saw you sitting there in those ridiculous fuzzy pajamas—”

“Hey!” she cries, so I kiss her again to keep her from arguing.

“I had just watched you play that first show, all badass rock chick in your leather pants and sky-high stilettos—how in the hell do you play drums in those things, by the way?”

She smirks a little. “Lots of practice.”

I shake my head, chuckling. “You go from that to flannel PJs and chocolate milk and somehow manage to look equally sexy in both. And it just took my breath away.”

Her breathing is coming a little faster against my cheek. “That first night?”

I nod, and it’s my turn to swallow heavily, inundated by the memory of it. “That first night and pretty much every day since then. You fucking kill me, Layla. You always have.”

There are about a million more things I want to say to her, but she’s pressing her mouth into mine, twisting to get closer on the couch, and I decide we have plenty of time for talking. Plenty of time to tell her just what she’s coming to mean to me. Just how close I am to falling completely in love with her.

Hell, I’m probably already there.

I want to tell her but my throat has gone thick with the emotion. So, I decide that for now, showing her will suffice. I wrap my arms around her, standing and pulling her up with me as I go. “Let’s go to bed,” I whisper against her lips.