A few seconds later, he shut the door and turned, taking her into his arms.
She wore a sleeveless blouse and her hair was down around her shoulders. He pressed his face against her neck, inhaling the subtle floral scent from her hair and skin. He trailed his hands down her slender, lithe arms.
Laila.
He couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing her again. Touching her.
He wouldn’t accept it.
“Your father came back from Detroit tonight?” he asked her, lifting his head.
She looked up at him and nodded. Her eyes looked huge, and her face seemed paler than usual. He cupped the side of her head, his thumb brushing against the silky skin of her cheek.
“I’m going to come over and meet them—your mom and dad—in the morning.”
“No, Asher. That would never work.”
“I don’t want to keep sneaking around like this.”
She shook her head rapidly. “You don’t understand. That would be the worst thing you could do. Especially with Mamma Sophia’s heart attack and everything. My mom is already worried sick.”
He cupped her head more firmly. “I’m not going to just let you go,” he stated unequivocally.
“It’s not that simple, Asher.”
“It is, Laila. You’re an adult. You have the right to see whomever you want. Your mom and dad would be upset if we told them we wanted to see each other, just like my parents were when I told them about my job. But they’d come to accept it. Eventually. You have a choice in this, Laila. This isn’t about them. It’s about you. Us.”
“Don’t,” she blurted out, her eyes going wild. “Don’t make me do that. Don’t make me choose. It’s . . . it’s cruel.” She twisted out of his arms and fled across the room, pausing in front of the dormer window. It felt like she’d just slapped him.
It took him two seconds to realize she’d felt exactly the same way about what he’d said.
He inhaled, trying to calm his choppy emotions, and went to her. She stood with her back to him, her head lowered. He couldn’t decide where her misery ended and his began. He put his hands on her upper arms. When he tried to turn her, she resisted at first.
“They are me, Asher. Don’t you get that? I can’t discount my family like you do your parents,” she said bitterly.
He stiffened. “Wow. That was a low blow.”
Regret tightened her face.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for saying that. It was mean. Horrible. I know it,” she said in a strangled voice. “I’m sorry I can’t explain myself right to you. I’m sorry if it means I’m still too young to stand up for myself, or that I’m not brave enough, or that I’m weak.” She reached up and took his face in her hands. “I love you,” she said fiercely, her eyes shimmering with tears. “I don’t know what’s right, but I don’t want to give up on us. But I don’t want to hurt my family either. Can’t you understand that?”
“I’m trying,” he said. “But I don’t see how you can have both without bending.”
“You’re not bending me,” she said so loudly, he started. Her face suddenly collapsed. “God, Asher, you’re breaking me.”
The way she looked in that moment nearly brought him to his knees. She was like a cornered animal, and there was no way out of facing the truth. He was one of the people cornering her. Torturing her.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he muttered, pulling her to him. He pressed his mouth to her temple, running his hand through her soft hair, his palm at her back absorbing her trembling. He was an asshole for pus
hing and prodding at something so sweet. So precious. “I’m so sorry. Shhh,” he pleaded softly. “Laila—”
And then—he wasn’t sure how it happened, if she’d craned up for him, or if he’d swept down for her—their mouths fused. All their volatility and blind uncertainty found a channel in that kiss. It hit him like an explosion. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he realized he probably could have stopped himself if Laila hadn’t reciprocated completely. But she seemed every bit as wild as he was. They fell onto the bed, Asher coming down over her. Laila clutched at him like she thought she was drowning.
And he knew this wasn’t just lust. It was love, and need . . . and the desperation that comes from fear, because a brutal loss was drawing near.
• • •
Afterward, they lay there, holding each other fast. They hadn’t even taken off most of their clothes before they’d made love. He regretted that now, sliding his hand beneath her dress and caressing the supple curve of her hip. He pressed his mouth against the silky skin of her belly and felt his airway tighten, like there was a hand at his throat.