With Jackson's masculine form pinning her against the bed she felt a animalistic surge wash over her.... Finally a man who could equal her in bed, she thought, thrusting her whole being against Jackson as wave after wave of pleasure washed through her.<br/><br/>With each rough thrust she sought her own escape from the constant demons that hounded her. Perched on the cusp of climax was the place she found she could be free of them, so she hunted down that pleasure like a wild cat hunting for it's final meal before starvation hit.<br/><br/>Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered what Jackson was running from.<br/><br/>As they lay there spent together exultant in their release, pinned underneath Jackson's powerful form she looked up into his eyes, for once all the pretenses' she wore discarded....<br/><br/>A vulnerable and wounded Layla beneath him.<br/><br/>With her knowing words matched only by the pained and soulful look in her eyes she asked him, "and what are you running from lover?"