Read Beyond Layers: Layer Series Book Four (Layers Series 4) for Free Online

return to the kitchen area, and open the pinot noir.
    She joins me. “Are you the decorator?”
    “What?”
    “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “Yeah, I’m great.”
    “I asked if you decorated your box of glass.”
    “No. My ex-girlfriend.” I nod toward the leather sofa. “I bought the sofa.”
    She nods, taking her glass. “I was thinking that was you. Looks more your style. Something you can actually sit on.”
    I take a sip of wine then place my glass on the counter. “Yeah, modern furniture might look cool, but it’s a bitch to sit on.”
    She walks over to a chair that looks like a large piece of white ribbon candy and runs her hand over it. “I have a furniture philosophy.”
    “Oh yeah,” I say, as I check on the lasagna. “What’s that?”
    “If you can’t fuck on it comfortably, it’s worthless.”
    Nearly dropping the lasagna, I moan. “Damn, angel.”
    She giggles, putting her glass on the counter. “Sorry about that. What can I do to help?”
    Beside rock me hard and stupid ? “You can get the salad out of the fridge.”
    She does and places it on the set table. “Take this table for example.” She runs a finger down the glass before bending over it, her dress hiking up her thighs. “It’s a comfortable height, easy on the back, don’t you think?”
    I groan. “Killing me here.” Who am I kidding? I’m so already dead.
    She laughs. “I like making you smile like a horny idiot. Makes those sad brown eyes of yours not so sad.”
    I set the lasagna down on the table. “You think my eyes are sad?”
    She grabs her glass and the bottle of wine and sits across from me. All sexy mischief is gone from her gorgeous face and eyes. “I think your heart was broken and still aches. By who or what I don’t know, and I’m not going to ask. I think you’re a lot like me, Logan. Not one who’s good at hiding your damage, your pain, your needs and desires. I think you try like I do, but even when we think we succeed, our hurt, our emotions, are painted on our face, and shine in our eyes, for all to see.”
    Fuck. How does she know me so well, without even knowing me? I sit across from her, remaining silent, not knowing what to say.
    She puts her hand over mine. “You don’t need to say anything. It is what it is.”
    And what is it? I want to ask her, but don’t, knowing she won’t answer me.
    She hands me her plate. “Smells wonderful.”
    I dish her out a serving. “ Buon appetito ,” I say, handing her plate back.
    “ Grazie ,” she replies.
    I fill my plate with lasagna and salad. I wait for her to take a bite before I dig in.
    She chews, moaning as she swallows. “Holy cannoli. That’s molto buono!”
    “I know; the best, right?”
    She moans around her fork as she takes another bite.
    Fuck! My cock jumps and kicks its stand. If it had hands, they would be waving uncontrollably, begging to be chosen to take the place of the lasagna that’s rolling over her tongue. I sit my napkin in my lap and covertly adjust. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this turned on, if ever. I’d like to say it’s because I haven’t fucked in five months but that wouldn’t be entirely true. I know it’s Sam. She’s the reason I’m rock solid.
    “I have a chef friend in New York who owns a couple of popular Italian restaurants. He’d get down on his knees and beg for this recipe.”
    I sit back and wonder how close is this friend? What the hell, Romano? Jealous much?
    She grins. “He’s a total gaywad and very happily married.”
    “I’m that transparent?”
    “Your eyes, Logan. They say so, so very much,” she says softly.
    And she had me on the first so. Fuck, Allie is right; I’m going down, down.
    We eat in silence for a few minutes. Well, I do anyway. Sam continues to moan and groan around her fork as my aching cock continues to throb against the fly of my board shorts.
    She finally puts her fork down and picks up her wine. “So why did you sell? Was it because