What the fuck, Myla? I step out of Zayne's office with a fucking smile on my face and weak knees because the way he looks at me makes me forget to breathe. When I tell myself that I have to push him away as much as possible, I find myself getting more attracted to him. Memories of last night's dream are still haunting me and deep down, I want him to pin me against the wall or grab me by the chin and make me look at him. I say I won't let a man touch me or demand anything from me but Zayne Laurier is an exception my fantasies might be concerning but a woman like me can only dream about someone like him. Is he attractive and so fucking hot? Yes. But, is he a fucking asshole that frustrates the shit out of me? Also yes. So I'm confused between wanting to kiss him or wanting to kill him. A date with him in his place seems like a bad idea but I'm still going to go if he makes an effort. If he's late just a single minute, I'm canceling the date. Although, deep down I'm telling myself t
The feeling of Myla's lips against my cheek sends me to a whole other world. Somehow, I've never been kissed on the cheek. But for a moment, I'm reminded of when my mother used to kiss me on the cheek and tell me that everything would be okay and that I was the best son she'd ever ask for. I don't know why I'm thinking about the past when I don't even want to recall it. The last thing I want is to let Myla read through me like an open book so I smile and rest my hand on her waist, pulling her closer. "Your service is truly excellent. I only told the truth." Yeah, well. I don't go around saying things even if they're true but I somehow wanted to do something that would make me seem a little bit less of a dickhead. "Okay, that might get me a raise so thank you. I mean it." The smile on her lips and eyes makes me somehow feel at ease and I feel the corner of my lips going up. "Come on." I lead her to the car, opening the door for her before she gets inside. The way the black fabric
I can only imagine the pain Zayne must have gone through. Losing your mother is something I can't even think about, let alone have it happen to me. He must have felt lonely. I stare at him for a moment as he goes completely quiet, probably thinking about the memories with his mother. Was he just a child when she passed away? All I want to do is hug him and let him know that it's okay. He definitely doesn't open up to anyone, but I know for a fact that he must need a shoulder to lean on. So, without thinking, I stand up and make my way to him, putting down his jacket before I wrap my arms around him. I feel him tense, but I rest my head against his back and sigh a little. The two of us don't speak nor move, and we stay like this for a couple of seconds before he turns to me with eyes that spoke the words he didn't. "I just..." I really don't know what to say, I acted without really thinking. "Thanks." Instead of questioning my actions, he smiles a little. This isn't the cocky smile
Zayne's hands are cupping my ass cheeks while he kisses the shit out of me. I'm dizzy, but I'm well aware of everything happening around me, especially his dick that's getting harder by the second underneath me. His lips are so damn kissable and his touch is making my sexual frustration even worse The two of us eventually pull away and breathe heavily, his eyes never leaving mine. "Fuck, Myla, rub it on my fucking cock." The way his voice only penetrates so deeply inside sends me into a wave of pleasure while I let out a heavy breath, slowly moving on top of him. Zayne closes his eyes and groans, throwing his head back. His hands are still holding onto my butt cheeks while he helps me go forward and backward, making me moan without even trying to hold it in. Then all I can think about is his lips against mine and the way our tongues are fighting over dominance. Before I know it, he stands up, holding me in his arms while kissing me all the way to his room. Then I feel my back coll
I've never willingly admitted someone made me feel good. Well, not until I met Myla.I watch as she sleeps next to me, strands of hair falling on her face before I put them away and stroke her cheek with my thumb. She looks so soft, holding the blanket close to her while sleeping peacefully. I wish I could sleep the way she's sleeping.If only my nightmares didn't exist, then perhaps, I'd get some actual rest. I find myself too mesmerized by Myla's features. Her hair is so beautiful and her lips are so plump and kissable. Hearing her moans and feeling her insides around my cock will be an unforgettable memory that will linger in my mind for a long time, and I'm not sure if I like it.Women I used to sleep with always left after we fucked, so somehow, having someone next to me this early in the morning feels strange. It's always me and my nightmares.I just brush off my thoughts and make my way to the bathroom to shower. There are no female products for Myla, and I wonder why I'm conc
A few days had passed since Zayne told me about the news. I feel happier than ever and excited about whatever awaits me, but I'm also sad and depressed because I'll have to leave Alex, Sarah, and June. Although now the café is doing good and I trust they will make it even better, I will miss working with them. Today is my last working day at the café and when I step inside the place, balloons are everywhere and Sarah approaches me with a cake in her hands. "A goodbye party?" I say jokingly but it's my coping mechanism. I'm actually about to cry. "Are you happy I'm leaving?" I watch her as she smiles bitterly at me, knowing for a fact that none of them wants me to leave. Am I selfish for choosing this path instead of staying by their side? I question myself, deep down feeling guilty although I know I'm doing it for my mother. She's getting older and her dream is slowly fading away with time, but I know that it will never really go away. She'd always remember the dream she couldn't
I've always been a competitive person. Watch me prove everyone wrong even if it means lying to myself, and Myla is no exception. I can't use the elevator? She's right, but I'm not letting her think that I'm indeed scared of them. The two of us get inside and I feel my heart drop when the doors close. Just for 7 flours, I tell myself. I can do it. "Are you okay?" I hear Myla ask but I don't say anything, I'm trying not to think about how anxious I feel inside this fucking place. My heart is racing inside my chest and I feel sweat drip down my forehead. I can do it. "We can-" Her hand rests on my back and I tense, widening my eyes when the elevator stops and people walk inside. No. No, no, no. This isn't how it's supposed to be. I turn to Myla, stepping to the corner of the elevator to avoid whoever's greeting me. Although I don't look into her eyes because I know she can read me like an open page if I'm acting like this. My mind is racing with thoughts of the dark, suffocating basem
My heart is racing inside my chest while I step inside Judy Hills, dressed in the clothes Zayne had picked for me. A typical white shirt and a pair of beige trousers but I'm sure they cost a fortune because this is Laurier we're talking about. Talking about him, he's been staring at me since he came to my house along with Keith. He's walking beside me, his posture and steps so determined, and his cologne filling my nostrils. "Who is this?" Someone's voice makes him stop and I turn to him, only to see him glaring. "Why are you letting random people work here? Did she pass any interviews? Or are you- oh." Zayne's fist is so tight he could break it and I just stand there, feeling so small under that man's gaze. It doesn't seem like he's one of the few people Zayne tolerates and it seems that he doesn't want me here. I mean, I'm thankful Zayne got me this opportunity. I'm going to work hard and do my job properly and earn my place here. "Cummings, it's early in the morning and I'm in
"Pretty, do you have to meet him?" Zayne wraps his arms around me as I look in the mirror and I can see how worried he is. "I mean it makes sense the two of you should talk things out, after all, but I don't know. I just want you to be safe.""I don't think Alex would ever think of hurting me." I wince. "At least not physically.""Emotional pain can be as damaging, Myla." His voice is so soft as he pulls me closer, his warmth enveloping me. "I can't help but worry about what it might do to you."I turn to face him, cupping his face in my hands. "We both need to have this conversation. I need to understand things and he needs a chance to at least try and explain himself. It's been eating at me for a while." I'd like to have a conversation with Alex because deep down, I'm still hoping that he wasn't entirely pretending to be my best friend. Because I know that at some point, he genuinely cared about me. Zayne's eyes soften, and he gently intertwines his fingers with mine. "I know. I kn
Myla is back home. After the sleepless nights with her by my side, she's finally back home, where she belongs. It feels as though the world had regained its vibrant colors, and the weight of my worries lifted from my weary shoulders. Holding her in my arms, I can feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the steady rhythm that assures me she is indeed real and not a figment of my imagination. The scent of her hair, the familiar touch of her hand on my cheek, it all makes me feel as if all the pieces of my scattered world had finally found their rightful place. And I'm complete. We spent the whole morning making love. I'd call it fucking but it'd sound crude and devoid of everything we felt in those intimate moments. I kissed her waist and traced my fingertips along the curve of her spine, savoring the goosebumps that appeared in response to my touch. I made sure she knew how devoted I was to her, how her presence in my life had turned me into a better version of myself, how deepl
I stand in front of the house as I take a deep breath, calming down my racing heart. When I step inside, there's no sign of life. The kitchen is in pristine order, as if untouched for days. The place is very quiet and Keith's words hit me hard. He was right. I wonder if Zayne is alright. Our bedroom door is closed and I slowly approach it, my hand trembling as I reach for the doorknob. The laughter, the arguments, the stolen kisses in this very room feel like a distant dream when the door creaks and I catch a glimpse of Zayne huddled on the bed, his face buried in his hands. My heart sinks, and I rush to his side, kneeling down to meet his gaze. "Zayne," I whisper, my voice filled with concern. "Are you okay?" He looks up at me, his eyes so red and filled with pain. He looks at me for a moment, taking in my sudden presence and it breaks my heart to see him like this. He tries to speak, but his voice catches in his throat as he wraps his arms around me as if clinging to the last shre
I spent the past few days locked in my room, the blanket over my body not able to provide the warmth I desperately wish for. Time seems to stand still as I gaze at the world through my window, my eyes tracing the distant horizon. It carries on with its usual rhythm, laughter drifting in from a distance, mingling with the sound of passing cars and chirping birds. But in my room, I'm trapped. Zayne had been calling and texting but I had been unable to bring myself to answer. Although I miss him so much I find myself overwhelmed with emptiness, I don't think I'm ready to face anyone, actually. The thought of trusting someone is disturbed by the thought of them deceiving me, and I find myself questioning if this pain is worth the risk. Zayne said he wanted to protect me. Mom said she wanted to protect me. But all they did was make me feel suffocated as if I were a fragile bird trapped in a cage. I sigh and stand up from my bed, walking out of my room when I stop in front of the mirror
She's not home. When I can't find her anywhere, my heart sinks into a deep well of worry. I quickly grab my phone, trembling fingers fumbling to dial her number. Each ring feels like an eternity as I anxiously wait for her to pick up, but there's no answer, only the cold, impersonal voicemail greeting. I stand in the middle of the empty living room, my footsteps echoing in the silence as if mocking my growing unease. I never wanted to imagine a situation like this. I never wanted to hurt her. The thought of losing her make my breath catch in my throat. Guilt floods over me, adding to the worry that grips my heart. I figure she's back home with her mother so I call her, and when she answers, I feel a flicker of hope ignite within me. She says Myla is home and I let out a shaky sigh of relief, feeling the tension release from my body. Instinctively, I take my car and drive to her house because her mere presence can bring me to life again. But I know what awaits me and it breaks my hear
I stand at the door, staring at Zayne as he presses a knife to Alex's neck, not really sure if I want him dead or not. I thought our movie might end with us being friends again if we tried enough, but the ending credits are rolling and my heart sinks to the deepest pit of my stomach when the realization hits me. Alex was never my best friend. My whole life had been a lie. The people I once cherished, who I believed would always be there for me, had proven to be the very ones who would bring me to the edge of my own destruction. Mom, Alex, and now Zayne. "Myla... I-" His voice trails off as he tries to find the right words, but his actions have already spoken volumes. He lets go of the knife and it clatters to the ground as I take a step back, wrapping my arms around myself because I'm the only one I can trust now. I'm the only one who can protect myself now. "Is it true?" It feels as if I was separated from my body, and now I'm watching her almost from a distance. My whole body is
I stare at the video recordings playing on my laptop, blood boiling in my veins. My fists are so tight my knuckles are pale and strained. The thought of her fragile heart shattering into a million pieces makes me want to break Alex's face. Watching the recording feels like a knife twisting in my gut. I asked Keith some time ago to find out why I didn't get Myla's job application and here I am watching someone hand it to Alex in the parking garage with a bag I assume filled with stacks of cash. My mind is filled with unanswered questions about who the man is and why is Alex involved in this. I can't brush off how shady all of this is because the next thing I watch is another recording of Alex crumbling the papers before he threw them in a nearby trash can and got on top of Myla's motorcycle, driving away as if he had just committed the perfect crime. The sight of him callously destroying Myla's application makes me rage. I remember her telling me about how she had been hopeful that
Alex was my best friend. He's the kind of person to remind you of oversized flannels, baggy jeans, and messy hair. I loved that about him, he was effortlessly cool and the sweetest guy you'll ever meet. He had the ability to make me feel seen and he'd go out of his way to brighten my day whether that be cracking a joke about how he looked like he just rolled out of bed or surprising me with my favorite treat when I least expected it.He felt like adventure and freedom rolled into one. He was hungry for the unknown and new experiences. While others hurried through life, Alex would pause to appreciate the way the sunlight filtered through the trees or the sound of rain on a rooftop. He taught me to slow down. Yet here I am, racing through our memories together while standing across from him. His humor was like a ray of sunshine, brightening my world and reminding me not to take life too seriously. But now it feels like he's sucking his teeth into me, bleeding me dry of everything I onc
Seeing Zayne be happy and comfortable with himself brings me joy that I can't put into words. A weight had been lifted off both our shoulders and now we can love each other better. We're sitting in the meeting room waiting for the others to arrive, and he brushes a strand of hair off my face. His touch is gentle and the smile he gives me makes me melt. "Your eyes are beautiful." He whispers softly and his words sink into my heart, igniting a flame of affection and desire. I playfully bat my eyelashes at Zayne, feigning surprise. "Oh really? Well, I guess I'll have to start charging admission for people to gaze into them." "I would bankrupt myself a thousand times over just to have the privilege," His words send a shiver down my spine, and butterflies take flight in the depths of my stomach. "If the world knew the depth of beauty that lies within your eyes, they would willingly give up everything they own just for a fleeting glimpse." "Were you always this good at flirting? You're