Intoxicated || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 60

Leila's POV

I could feel the night air against my skin, cool and sharp, but it didn't do anything to ease the heat building inside me. It had been weeks since I last saw Marshall, weeks since the tour had taken him away from me. And now, standing here waiting for him to step off that jet, I felt that familiar tension clawing at my chest. The same tension I'd felt every time we were apart, the same tension that burned me alive every time I thought about the way things had been left between us.

The fight. The fury. The kiss that followed.

I crossed my arms over my chest, watching the jet come to a stop, my heart pounding harder with every second. I hated how much I missed him, hated how deep he got inside my head. He was always there, no matter where I was or what I was doing. It didn't matter how angry I was, how many times I'd told myself I needed space from him—Marshall always had a way of pulling me back. And it wasn't just love. It was more than that. It was a need. A need I couldn't ignore, no matter how toxic it became.

Even after everything that had happened, even after the way we'd torn into each other, I couldn't escape the pull between us. The fire was always there, waiting to ignite the second we were back in the same room.

But part of me wasn't sure how to feel about it. Should I be angry, or should I just give in? The way I found those panties in his luggage, the rage that had surged through me—it wasn't something I could shake off so easily. Even though Marshall had told me Madison was gone, that he'd fired her after everything, the doubts still gnawed at the back of my mind. I trusted him, but sometimes, trust wasn't enough. Not with us.

My eyes locked onto the stairs as he descended from the jet. He was here. Finally.

The sight of him sent a rush of heat through me, stronger than the cool night air could calm. His eyes found mine almost instantly, and just like that, everything else melted away. The world around us blurred, and all I could see was him. Marshall, with that familiar intensity in his gaze, the one that always made me feel like I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

No, it wasn't just intensity—it was something deeper. A kind of obsession. The way he looked at me, it was like I was the only thing in his world that mattered. Like he was hungry for me, like the distance between us had only fueled that hunger. And I felt it too—this raw, burning need to be near him, to feel him, like nothing else could ever fill that void but him.

He walked toward me, his stride confident but heavy, like he carried the weight of everything we were in every step. And for a second, I thought maybe I'd say something—maybe I'd bring up the fight, the accusations, the distance that had made me question everything.

But then he was there, standing right in front of me, and every word I thought I might say disappeared.

"Laila," he breathed, his voice rough, like it had been dragged through miles of exhaustion and longing. The way he said my name always felt like a claim, like he was pulling me back into him even when I wanted to push him away.

I didn't say anything. I just stepped closer, my body drawn to his like it always was, like the fire between us couldn't be denied.

His hands found my waist, pulling me into him, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the fight. Not the distance. Not the jealousy that still simmered beneath the surface. It was just him—his heat, his breath, the way his hands tightened on me like he couldn't let go.

But this wasn't just about desire. It wasn't always about the fire that raged between us. There was something softer there too, something that kept me anchored. In moments like this, when we were close and the world faded away, I knew it wasn't all about the chaos. There were calm moments, loving moments, where everything between us felt right. When he looked at me like I was the only thing keeping him sane, and I felt it too—the comfort, the love.