by Harlow Layne
Affinity
Harlow Layne
Contents
Letter to Reader
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
The Salvation Society
Acknowledgments
Books By Harlow
About the Author
Copyright © 2020 by Harlow Layne. All rights reserved.
Edited by: Your Editing Lounge - Editor: Kristen
Proofreader: The Polished Author - Bex
Cover Design: Harlow Layne
Images from Shutterstock
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Manufactured in the United States of America.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Letter to Reader
I’m so honored to be able to write in the Salvation Society world. When I read Catherine and Jackson in the Salvation series, I instantly fell in love with them, and was so excited when I was asked to write in this world and to include them in my story. I hope you love Jenner and Abbi as much as I do as they navigate a marriage, they both don’t want, but try to make the best of it as they get to know each other. The love-hate relationship they have make this story so much fun.
If you want more of Jenner, he makes a few appearances in my slow-burn, sweet, and sexy Fairlane series filled with swoon-worthy alphas.
Thank you so much for choosing Affinity to read.
xoxo,
Harlow
Chapter One
Abbi
My brain throbbed like I’d been hit by a Mac truck that repeatedly ran back and forth over my head as I slowly gained consciousness. Trying to remember why I felt this way, I peeled my crusty eyes open and immediately closed them when sunlight infiltrated my vision.
Little pieces of the day before flitted through my memory. Yesterday, after finding out that I had gotten a job at none other than CJJ Public Relations thanks to my brother, Paul, who put in a good word for me, my best friend and roommate, Sophie, and I jumped around her apartment. Somehow during all the excitement, she convinced me we should drive to Vegas and celebrate. During the drive, we sang at the top of our lungs and ended up with a comped suite at The Bellagio, thanks to her last name.
Sophie’s hand was in the air waving over waitresses left and right as she asked for more drinks for the two of us. I’d lost count after the first four, and as I thought back to last night, I couldn’t remember much after we left the restaurant. It felt like we were going to hit the slots, but everything was a blank.
I’m not sure how Sophie and I became friends; I was a quiet nerd who studied my ass off to get into college to help my brother out. A brother who raised me after our parents passed away when I was a freshman in high school. He was three years older than me, the most popular guy in school, and the captain of the football team. He was the total opposite of me and, after I graduated high school, he enlisted in the military to serve his country.
I met Sophie on the day I moved into the college dorms. When I walked in, she was dressed in bright clothing with her red hair tied up on top of her head, singing at the top of her lungs. I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through the night, let alone the year, but it didn’t take us long to bond, and now we were like sisters. Totally opposite sisters. She was extroverted, and I was the introvert. Where she was high-strung, I was low key and wanted to blend into the crowd. No matter our differences, Sophie was the yin to my yang, and ever since the day we met, we were inseparable. I was there for Sophie when her mom died in a drunk driving accident, and she was there for me after I found out Greg, my boyfriend of two years, had been cheating on me with anyone who’d open their legs for him. I had planned to move to Boston, where he was going to go to law school, find a job there, and after that, I had no idea what I was going to do. Sophie convinced me to move out to Los Angeles with her after we graduated. A little over a month ago, I packed up all my belongings from LSU and moved to sunny LA to live with my best friend. If it wasn’t for her father buying her the apartment, there was no way I would have ever been able to afford the rent.
Returning to the present from my memories, I realized my mouth felt as if I had snacked on cotton balls before I passed out, and my body felt like I’d been in a fight with Mike Tyson. I tried to roll out of bed, but instead, I rolled off of somebody. The sweat that had been holding us together cooled quickly, leaving me cold and sticky, and feeling quite gross. At least that’s what I thought had made me sticky.
Next to me something moved, startling me and making me squeal. I tried to clutch the sheet to my naked body, but ended up splayed out on the floor with the rest of the covers.
“Shut the fuck up,” a muffled voice yelled.
Scrambling off the floor, I successfully wrapped the sheet around my body and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the most perfectly naked male body on the bed. He had a pillow over his head so I couldn’t see his face, but that was fine by me as I took in each glorious inch of him. He had to have been well over six feet tall with a lean athletic build, washboard abs, and that delicious ‘V’ that led down to the promised land–and what a promised land it was. I watched his biceps bulge as he held the pillow over his face.
I stood there trying to remember who the naked man was, but nothing came to me. Had we had sex? Going by how sore my lady bits were, that was an affirmative.
“Shit,” I yelled and instantly regretted it. Everything in my body throbbed from the one word.
“Quiet,” the pillow moaned.
“You be quiet,” I retorted and wondered how I had forgotten the pain from only moments ago. “Who are you, and can you please cover yourself?”
Mr. Perfect slowly slid the pillow from his head down to his stomach and stopped just before covering his impressive manhood. My body went rigid as he revealed himself. I knew who was lying in that bed. He had been my celebrity crush since I was in high school. That was until he had gotten a divorce, started to party way too hard, and made himself look like a fool.
Reeves fucking Jenner.
“Fuck me,” I groaned. What were the odds he’d be in my bed? I couldn’t believe I’d slept with him. Reeves Jenner had been the ‘it’ man in Hollywood until a year ago. He had started to show up late and drunk, and it was obvious in his poor performances in what little work he’d gotten. No one wanted to hire him, and it seemed he only spiraled from there. The last I had heard, he was in rehab after getting a DUI.
While his body was everything a woman could fantasize about, that was all he was–a fantasy. I heard he was filming a Netflix series, and rumors were already swirling that h
e’d fallen off the wagon. But they weren’t just rumors because I knew from the fact that he was lying in front of me with his eyes twisted shut that he was as hungover as me. The only question was, why was he naked in my bed?
Looking around, I realized we weren’t in my hotel room, but in a suite that was far superior to the one I was sharing with Sophie. As I took in my surroundings, my gaze took in the multiple champagne bottles littered across the floor.
Since he hadn’t said anything or made any more of an effort to move, I assumed he’d fallen back to sleep. Now was the perfect time to slip out of the room before he woke up and kicked me out. The only problem was I needed to find my clothes, and they were nowhere in sight. Dragging the sheet behind me, I looked around for the skimpy dress Sophie convinced me to wear last night. With each step I took, the soreness between my legs woke me up further, dissipating my hangover and reminding me that Reeves Jenner had been linked to hookers in the past. Not only was his cum dripping down my leg, but I could see it glistening on his semi-hard cock.
“No,” I yelled as I searched around the room for my clothes and any condoms that we’d used.
Reeves groaned again and placed the pillow back over his head while I searched the room and found nothing. No clothes and no condoms. I looked high and low, even making my way into the bathroom and the shower, only to find nothing.
What were the odds that my one night of letting go, I’d contracted an STD from Reeves Jenner?
Catching what I looked like in the mirror had me headed to the porcelain gods to empty my stomach. It was all too much for me to handle. Once I was done, I washed my face and brushed my teeth with my finger and thought about taking a quick shower, but then thought better of it. I could do that in my own room. Surely Sophie was looking for me and worried.
Combing my hair with my fingers, I attempted to fix my sex-mussed tresses. Reeves had certainly done a number on me, and it killed me that I couldn’t remember our time together. The one time I had sex with my teenage crush, and I couldn’t remember it.
Looking down, I saw Jenner in black cursive script circling my left ring finger.
What the holy hell?
We didn’t get married . . . did we?
Chapter Two
Jenner
There’s nothing like waking up to someone throwing up and screaming in your hotel room to instantly put you in a bad mood. My head was pounding, and with each noise, it escalated. Not only that, but my mouth also tasted like shit. I held the pillow over my head as I tried to remember what happened last night. I remembered showing up yesterday with Levi, my friend and assistant. I wanted to come here alone, but he wouldn’t let me. My publicist had him babysitting me, and I didn’t blame her. After I got out of rehab, I knew this was my last chance before I was blacklisted from jobs. The public knew about my DUI and that I went to rehab, but they didn’t know about how much I liked a little cocaine with my whiskey. The only ones who knew the real truth were my father, my publicist, and Levi. My friends, Luke and Alex, had tried to get me to talk to them about what had happened, but so far, I’d been lucky to get out of having to lie to their faces. I hadn’t seen Luke or Alex since before it had all gone down. That was the one good thing about them living in Fairlane, but I knew my time was running out on being able to avoid them. I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to face them. I’d fallen hard after my divorce, and now I was paying the price.
I’m not sure how they were able to hide it, but somehow they’d managed to keep my cocaine usage out of the press, and for that, I was grateful. Afterward, it took a lot of phone calls before any directors were willing to meet with me, and if it wasn’t for Catherine, I’m sure I’d still be out of a job. I wasn’t excited about doing a Netflix series, but I knew I had to suck it up if I ever wanted to get back into making movies.
Where was Levi? He should have been here making sure I was being a good boy. I couldn’t believe he let me get hammered while out in public.
I heard the sink come on in the bathroom and wondered who was in there. I knew it wasn’t Levi from the previous shrieking. Sitting up, I immediately regretted it when the room spun, and last night’s dinner tried to make an appearance. Burying my face in my hands, I waited for the earth to stop spinning.
“No, no, no, you can’t have one too!” The mystery woman yelled from what sounded like right next to my ear when, in fact, she was a few feet away.
She ripped my hand away from my face and turned it this way and that.
“Yes,” I held up my other hand before I snatched my hand back from her grip, “I was born with two just like you.”
I looked her up and down. Whoever this mystery woman was, she was a knockout. She had long brown hair that looked like it was a mess from a long night of rough sex and big brown eyes that were glaring at me. That wasn’t the only thing big on her. I was dying to get my hands on those breasts again because I knew there was no way in hell I hadn’t worshiped those babies last night.
“What was your name again, honey?”
“Why don’t you look on your fucking finger and find out,” she hissed.
I looked down and read each letter slowly. A.B.B.I. I tried to rub the ink off my finger, but it wouldn’t come off. What the hell had happened last night, and why had she written her name on my finger?
“You’re Abbi?”
“Yes, I’m Abbi.” She blushed, and I couldn’t help but find it adorable. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Leaning up on my elbow, I gave her my dazzling smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, Abbi. Now, why don’t you come back to bed, and we can recreate last night?” And hopefully remember it this time.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Abbi pointed down at her name on my finger. “Because mine bothers me!”
Snatching the hand she was waving around, I caught sight of my name on her ring finger. Maybe I could have some fun with this.
“Well, since it looks like it belongs to me, why don’t you give me a hand?” I asked as I pulled her hand to my rising cock.
“Oh my god, you’re a grade-A asshole,” she yelled as she pulled her hand out of mine.
“Come on, Abbi. It’s obvious we fucked last night, so why not do it again?”
“As if,” she stomped her little foot, and it took everything in me not to laugh. “Do you have any STDs?” She’d morphed to pissed in a nanosecond, and I instantly knew I wasn’t getting laid.
Ignoring her, I went back to my finger and tried to rub off her name. If she wasn’t going to give me what I wanted, then I had no need for her name on my finger. “For your information, no, I don’t have any STDs. I always use a condom. Always.”
“Well, that’s all fine and dandy, but would you mind pointing out the condom or the wrapper from last night, if you always wrap it up?”
I spat on my finger and tried to get the ink to budge, but it wasn’t going anywhere. How was I supposed to walk around Vegas with her stupid fucking name on my finger? “What kind of ink did you use? It won’t come off.”
She sputtered out a laugh. “I didn’t do that . . . well, at least I don’t think I did.” She sighed as she looked down at her name. “It’s my handwriting. I don’t remember much about last night, but one thing I do know is that these are tattoos.”
Tattoos?
“Oh, and another thing, I’m pretty sure we didn’t use protection last night.”
That wasn’t possible. Never once in all my years had I had sex without a condom. Hopping out of bed, I searched the room for a discarded wrapper. The room was a mess with everything on the floor as if it was trying to hide the fucking condom from me. Running over to my suitcase, I threw it open to where I knew I’d packed a full box of condoms. And there they were. Unopened.
“Fuck,” I groaned and sank to my knees.
“I told you! Who’s to say all those days and nights of you being inebriated, you didn’t wrap it up and now you have some disease you’ve passed on to me?”
She scrunched up her nose, a
nd her face became red with anger, which was sexy as fuck, but I didn’t appreciate the words that were coming out of her mouth.
My lips curled up in a snarl. “I can assure you, honey, that I’m one hundred percent clean. I get tested regularly, but what about you? Maybe you gave me something last night? I don’t know you, and you’re standing there in a sheet with my cum dripping down your thighs.”
“Me?” she sputtered. “I’ll have you know that I’ve only been with two men, and it’s been two years since I last had sex.”
Two years? Damn, I couldn’t imagine going that long without sex.
Abbi stomped out of the room, and I followed as she dipped low and snatched up her clothes from under the armoire. “Fuck you, asshole.”
I let out a bitter chuckle. “We already did that, but it must not have been that great since I can’t remember a second of our time together.”
Her only response was to slam the bathroom door behind her. Wanting to forget all about her, I crawled back in bed and tried to put the whole morning behind me.
When I heard the bathroom door open, I squinted one eye open to see she had put on a very revealing dress. No wonder she had caught my eye. What I wished I hadn’t seen were the tears shimmering in her eyes. I felt bad, but I wasn’t the guy who comforted women who cried.