Chapter 79 Let Go
"Samuel, let go of me!"
"Drop it now. You hear me?" Samuel swiped his card, opened the door, and shoved her into the room.
As soon as Layla steadied herself, before she could react, she heard the door slam shut and found herself pinned by Samuel in the foyer.
Her heart skipped a beat. "What are you doing?"
"I'm drunk," he slurred, his breath hot against her ear, thick with the scent of alcohol.
"Cut the act." Layla pushed against him. Just a few moments ago, his grip was strong and his steps were eve steadier than her own—he didn't seem drunk at all.
"I really am. Why not take a whiff?" Samuel leaned in close, the alcohol on his breath enveloping Layla, sending a wave of warmth through her body.
"If you're drunk, then go to sleep."
"Stay with me."
"No."
In the darkness, they struggled, with Layla neither daring to push too hard nor raise her voice.
Back and forth they tussled as they both tumbled onto the couch.
"Ah!" Layla let out a stifled groan.
Just in time, Samuel braced himself with his arm so as not to crush her.
"Get off me, now."
"Samuel," Layla was both angry and anxious, "stop being a creep."
"What do you want exactly?"
"What do I want? Haven't you always known?" Samuel's inebriated voice grew more suggestive with every word, tugging at Layla's heartstrings.
Their bodies were pressed together, and she helplessly rested her hands against his chest.
His body's heat seared through the thin fabric of his shirt, spreading to her entire being.
And right where her palms lay was his heartbeat. Layla could distinctly feel his racing pulse.
So fast! So scorchingly intense!
"I want..." Samuel leaned in, causing his tall frame to overshadow hers as he gently whispered by her ear, "You know what I want."
A wave of panic washed over Layla, and her fingers went limp, "You've got the wrong person—your girl is next door."
"Her? Not interested." Samuel's scoff was ice-cold. "It's you I'm interested in, intensely." The tipsy man was being stubborn, a bit relaxed, and somewhat childish.
"Not interested? Did you forget about last night?"
"What happened last night?" Samuel’s deep laughter still held a lazy, flirtatious undertone. He had entered only to emerge moments later.
"A man and a woman alone. What do you think happened? Unless you're impotent."
"As to whether I'm impotent—well, you're the expert. Who was it that complained of being tortured all night long?"
"Don't bring that up." Layla was terrified of him mentioning that night because the memory of those moments would start replaying in her mind, leaving her blushing and wishing she could just disappear into thin air.
“I can’t pretend it didn’t happen just because I don’t talk about it. I’m not interested in other women.” His breath was hot and laced with passion.
“So you’re telling me you’ve never slept with your fiancée?”
“What fiancée? Layla, why is it always so hard to talk to you?” Samuel nibbled on her earlobe.
“Ow... Just because you say it doesn’t mean I believe it.”
Samuel cupped her face in his hands, “What do I even see in you? Your temper, your height, you’re barely more than a...”
“You’re one to talk.” Layla cut him off. She was a solid B-cup, thank you very much.
“Tiny and just plain ordinary.” His hands continued to knead her face.
“Stop it, my face isn’t dough!” Layla protested, struggling as her face started to contort under his long, slender fingers.
“You’re actually kind of cute when you’re mad,” Samuel said impulsively before capturing her lip with his teeth.
Then, the body above her stilled.
Was he... asleep?
Asleep with his mouth latched onto hers?
Layla blinked hard in utter disbelief.
Finally freeing her poor lips, she found his weight pinning her down like a mountain, utterly immovable.
“Get up,” she urged.
“Samuel,” Layla tried shoving him with all her might but was only met with the sound of his steady breathing.
He was actually asleep, deeply asleep.
What was she supposed to do? Spend the night trapped under him? She could suffocate!
Layla was fuming but utterly helpless.
The light from the window cast a halo on the man’s face, giving the impression that hips had curved into a soft smile.
…
In the morning, it was the weight on her chest that woke Layla.
Blinking away the sleep, she found his arm slung across her, almost half-cradling her in his arms.
What the... Did she fall asleep too?
She admired her own nerve.
Daylight had already broken.
Pushing the arm off of her, she began to urge the man awake, “Samuel, Samuel, wake up already!”
“Huh?” Samuel’s eyes were bleary, but he showed no signs of crankiness. He was just in a lazy, charming daze.
Right now, Layla didn’t care about his charm. As soon as he released her, she scrambled out of his embrace and nearly tumbled off the couch.
She grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him angrily.
Propped up on one elbow, Samuel caught the pillow and tossed it aside, his eyelashes fluttering gently, “It’s not the first time, you’re overreacting.”
Layla couldn’t be bothered to scold him. She peered through the peephole first. Jennie was outside, touching up her makeup.
Upon checking her phone, she saw that it was only 7:30 am. Talk about dedication.
Turning anxiously, Layla blurted out, “Jennie’s at the door.”
“Oh. Should I invite her in?”
“Invite her in, my foot. Get dressed and draw her away so I can leave.”
Samuel rose from the couch, his hand cradling the back of his neck as he rotated it, a slight crack audible. "Are you ordering me around?" He asked with a raised brow.
"I don't take orders," he declared firmly.
Layla gritted her teeth. "Can't you just do me a solid?"
"That’s not how you ask for a favor."
"So how should I?" She shot back.
Samuel pointed to his right cheek. "A kiss might do the trick."
"I'd rather give you a kick."
Unperturbed, Samuel drawled, "No kiss, no deal."
"You... are you even human? Last night, you basically held me hostage in your arms!"
"Hmm, it was actually pretty cozy," Samuel smirked, a mischievous glint flashing in his eye. Physical touch wasn't usually his thing, but he had to admit, Layla made for a particularly soft and fragrant pillow. He wouldn't mind making that a nightly tradition.
"Don't think for a second that I won't just walk out and say I was trying to wake you up," Layla threatened, steeling herself against his manipulation.
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