How could Luke not see it? It was written all over her face. She stared at Luke all the time. She’d almost fallen off the sofa when Luke said good night to her. Right off, boneless.
And did Luke put a stop to it? Of course not. He laid it on even thicker, just to lap up the attention.
Not that Noah wanted anything to happen between them. Thinking about his brother and Amanda dating was enough to make him shudder. Let alone Amanda sleeping over at their apartment. Amanda as his sister-in-law. It left a horrible taste in his mouth that wasn’t just her dry, overcooked burgers.
Thank God they were leaving New York. Luke would make a huge leap up from indie gaming at Zenith Games to the real deal at PlayStation, and Noah would finally have what his mother oh-so-helpfully termed a “real job.” In an office. With a desk. And a boss. And endless requirements.
And benefits, he reminded himself. A salary. Stability. No more memories of his ex-girlfriend everywhere—his failure to hold on to love.
And no more Amanda around.
Luke flopped on the bed. “She’s cute and all, but come on. We’re just friends. And I’m leaving. It’d be such a dick move.” Then he sat up. “Shit, this mattress is uncomfortable.”
“I thought you wanted this room,” Noah said.
“Because it’s the only one that’s not the size of a shoebox. If I’m going to spend a night outside of the city, I might as well enjoy this magical thing called space.”
Noah laughed. “Guess you should’ve tested the mattresses first.”
Luke groaned. “How’s yours? Any firmer?”
Oh, hell no. “You’re not stealing my bed,” Noah said.
“Let me just try it.”
Luke was gone before he could protest. Noah already knew what was going to happen. Luke would go on about how Noah’s room was so much better, the mattress was so much more comfortable, Luke shouldn’t have picked a bad room, and since Noah slept like the dead anyway…
“No,” Noah said as soon as Luke came back.
“You didn’t even hear what I had to say.”
“The answer is no.”
“But my back—it’s been killing me from sitting at the computer. And you ran eight million miles this week.”
“All the more reason I need a good night’s sleep,” Noah said.
“You could sleep in a bathtub and be out within minutes. You know how much tomorrow will suck if I’m up all night.”
Noah grumbled. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. They weren’t kids anymore. He didn’t have to bail his brother out of every situation he got himself into. Luke had made a big stink earlier about wanting the biggest room, calling, “Dibs!” like they were fourteen.
But Luke was right. Noah would be asleep within seconds anyway. And wasn’t it easier to take care of his brother than get into some stupid thing about it? It was just a bed. It was no big deal. It wasn’t giving in if he was doing something nice.
“Fine,” he grumbled, standing up to go get his stuff. “But you owe me.”
Luke grinned. “I always do.”
Yeah, that was the problem. Luke always owed him. And Noah never collected.
But Noah had to admit that his brother had his back when it came to moving to L.A. Even when it had meant leaving his job—and his friends—three thousand miles away.
It wasn’t like they hung out with the same people all the time. But Amanda was so there. Talking incessantly. Stomping in her huge black boots. Making everything about her. She’d insisted on taking over the grill, and then she couldn’t focus long enough to not burn dinner. It was a small thing. But it spoke volumes.
He felt bad that she was stuck in New York taking care of her mother. But it was kind of a good thing. Luke had talked about trying to bring her on at PlayStation, but there was no way she could move. Six weeks, he reminded himself. He’d never have to think about his old life again.
He brought his stuff into Luke’s former room and lay down on the bed. It was a shitty mattress; Luke was right. But it didn’t matter. It was just one night. It had made Luke happy. He could survive a night in a crappy bed, his stomach full of Amanda’s crappy burgers.
Tomorrow he’d go for a trail run, then they’d hit up a whiskey distillery, check out the peak fall colors, and not even annoying Amanda would ruin the day.
He brushed his teeth, stripped down to his boxers, and was fast asleep within seconds. Dreaming of the future and L.A.
Amanda sat on the edge of her bed. Stood up. Sat down again, phone in hand as she messaged her friends.
Everyone had turned in, but she was restless and nowhere near ready for bed.
AMANDA: First he told me I’m the woman of his dreams and had his hands around my waist. And then he went to sleep early. UGH.
ROSE: Are you sure he’s really asleep?
AMANDA: He and Noah went upstairs like an hour ago.
JESSIE: You’re going to have to tell him how you feel, even if it doesn’t happen tonight.
TALIA: NO! Talking is NOT the answer. You need to sneak out of your room, climb into bed with him, and mash your face into his.
Amanda covered her mouth to keep from laughing. That was one way to make a point.
TALIA: You have nothing to lose.
AMANDA: Except my dignity.
TALIA: Overrated! If it all goes south, he’ll be gone soon anyway. You’ll never have to see him again.
Amanda took a deep breath. It was true. If nothing happened in these next six weeks, it was never going to happen. Ever.
She’d seen firsthand how much love could screw with a person for life. “Men lie, sweetie,” her mom used to say any time Amanda so much as glanced at a boy on the street. “They say they love you, but they’re lying through their teeth.”
No. She wasn’t going to think like that right now.
She stood up. Crossed the room. Turned the doorknob.
This was crazy. It wasn’t like she and Luke were alone here.
But it was the best moment she was going to get. Everyone sleeping. A moonless, star-studded sky. The man she wanted, right down the hall. Not the silly fantasy she’d imagined earlier, but something she could make happen.
She tiptoed toward his bedroom. If anyone was awake and wondered what she was up to, she’d say she was going to the bathroom. Besides, hadn’t Luke made it ridiculously clear which room he was taking, going on and on about the king-size bed—like he wanted her to know where he was? And that look as he’d said good night…hadn’t that meant something?
Her mother always told her to be careful around men. Don’t give anything up, don’t do anything stupid, and no matter what, don’t fall for the wrong guy.
But Luke wasn’t the wrong guy. She knew it. She’d known it for three whole years.
He wasn’t like her father, who’d skipped out on them to get back together with his high school girlfriend after she’d connected with him on LinkedIn. The only reason Amanda knew how to make potatoes was because it was all she’d lived off of when she was fourteen and had to take over all the cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, bills, budgeting for new sneakers when she outgrew hers—everything her mom hadn’t been able to handle in those first years after they’d found themselves disastrously, unexpectedly alone.
She ran a hand through her bleached pixie cut, smoothing the strands into place. Reminding herself she was here. She’d made it out of New Jersey and that house and that life. She sent her mom money when she could and answered the phone (almost) every time she called. But she’d been living on her own in New York for over three years now. She had a college degree, a job, three roommates who never washed the dishes, and a boy she was going to kiss, goddammit. Because she wanted to.
Carefully, she tapped her fingers on the door. She wanted Luke to hear but not anyone else.
A sleepy, muffled sound came f
rom within. Was he saying something? Rolling over? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t have a lot of experience with sneaking around for late-night trysts.
But she thought of his curly hair, his lean back, those two perfect dimples when he smiled. Playing it safe had gotten her nowhere. Slowly, not daring to breathe, she turned the doorknob, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
“Hey,” she whispered. Her voice sounded strange. Too low and throaty. Far away. As though she didn’t quite dare say the word out loud. As though she knew the only way to understand each other wasn’t through words at all.
He made a noise, and she took a step toward the bed. Then another. It was pitch black in the room with the blinds closed, but she heard him rustling. She could tell he was rolling over and pulling back the bedspread.
The next thing she knew, she was climbing into the bed, and there was no moment, no pause, no question. No more doubt. One second she was Amanda Perkins, pining after what she thought she couldn’t have.
The next second, she was kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him. Still Amanda Perkins. But completely changed.
His body was taut and hard, pure lean muscle, even more than she’d expected. His jaw was just beginning to scratch with stubble. But his lips were soft, his mouth warm, his tongue searching.
She’d heard plenty of talk about fireworks. Chemistry. The sparks that ignited when everything was perfect.
“It’s all bullshit,” her mother had warned her. “Hormones. Lies. Don’t listen to the media. Don’t listen to your friends, and don’t listen to the sweet things men will say to get in your pants. You’re smarter than that, Mandy. Don’t forget I’ve raised you right.”
Her mother never had to worry. Amanda hadn’t ever felt fireworks. Any time she thought she’d found a tiny little light all her own, it had fizzed and sputtered out. Usually along with some depressing text about, “It was so nice to meet you, but I’m just not ready for more right now.”
But this. Oh God. This.
Luke brought his hands to her hair, three years’ worth of unkissed kisses consuming them both. He drew her closer, and when she threw her leg around him, he ran his hand up her thigh to her ass, pulling her tighter.
She let out a low whimper. She hadn’t meant to; she knew she had to be quiet. It just kind of escaped.
She was wearing only pajama pants and a loose V-neck T-shirt with no bra. Normally, she’d have been mortified to be seen in so little. But it was dark, and she’d gone in there hoping to take it off anyway.
Now she was glad she hadn’t put on jeans, a bra, actual clothes. It was better without that useless fabric getting in the way. Luke cupped her breasts, found the nothingness of her T-shirt and the peak of her nipple underneath, and let out a low moan that sent the blood pooling straight between her legs.
He teased her nipple through the T-shirt then brought his hand up underneath, over her stomach, to her breast. She kissed him hungrily, pressing her hips into him, feeling his cock notch up hard between her thighs. He was in his boxers, nothing else, and she got to run her fingers over the plane of his stomach, his back, his biceps, feeling every inch.
She’d seen him shirtless plenty of times—at the beach, the city pool, sometimes changing quickly at their office if he was about to meet his brother after work for a run. She’d drunk in the sight a million times, but it was nothing like getting to feel it now, memorizing his body in the dark. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. It was so much better than she’d ever imagined.
He ground his hips against her, making clear how their bodies would fit together when they were naked. Why had they waited so long to feel this? Why had she held herself back?
But she couldn’t think, couldn’t berate herself for not doing this sooner, because it was too good, too perfect as he bit her lip then flipped her so he was on top, pressing hard between her legs.
She stroked his cock through his boxers, amazed by the weight of it, how thick and solid in her palm. This was real, it was so much more than any fantasy, and she pulled out his cock, feeling the wetness at the tip, stroking him in her fist while he drew down her pajama pants just enough to press into the warmth between her legs, his finger finding her in all the right places. She moaned out loud, the sensation too much, too good—
“Luke,” she panted, eager for him to keep circling her clit like he’d started to, faster and wetter, some part of her wondering if he had a condom because she certainly didn’t, never imagining getting this far…
The next thing she knew, he was scrambling off her.
She thought it was because he’d read her mind and was getting a condom. Maybe he had one in his bag. Maybe he’d planned ahead and wanted this to happen, too. He was just doing it awkwardly, abruptly. Not Luke-like at all.
But sex was different. It could be awkward for everybody. It was okay that she was suddenly no longer kissing him, feeling strange and half-naked with her shirt up, her pants riding down her ass but her underwear on.
Then he turned on the light, glaring and harsh after the darkness she’d grown used to.
And she realized her mistake.
He wasn’t going to get a condom. In fact, he wasn’t going to continue this another second more.
He’d leaped off the bed and was pulling on his pants that were thrown on the floor—not taking off his boxers for more.
Luke would have been smiling, some charm-your-panties-off grin to make her melt no matter what. Even if it was to say he’d changed his mind, they were too good of friends, tonight wasn’t the night.
There would have been two dimples on his face, even as he was breaking her heart.
But there was no smile. And there were no dimples.
There was no glitter in his eyes.
Because she wasn’t lying there, half naked and turned on out of her mind, looking at Luke.
She was looking at Noah.
Who was staring down at her and rubbing his eyes like if he blinked hard enough, she’d disappear.
Chapter Three
Noah pulled up his pants. Zipped his fly so fast it was a wonder nothing got caught. He was still shirtless, still panting, and despite the number the shock had done to him…he was still undeniably hard from the sight of Amanda’s flimsy T-shirt partway off her shoulder, her nipples protruding through the fabric. Her short, bleached hair sticking up wildly from where he’d run his hands through it, drawing her near.
Shit, no. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about Amanda’s lips, her body, how out of his mind he’d been only seconds ago.
Just think about how to get himself out of the unbelievable nightmare he’d woken up in.
“Noah,” she gasped, wiping her hand across her mouth as though to get the taste of his kiss off her tongue.
“Be quiet,” he snapped, glancing toward the door. If someone heard them, if God forbid Luke heard them and knocked on the door to find them half-naked together, that just-about-to-fuck look in their eyes…
He stepped closer to the bed so they could whisper—not to be nearer to her. If it were up to him, he’d be running out of the room so fast, their friends would think the house was on fire.
But he couldn’t do that. He had to stay disciplined. In control. He had to make this right.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed, the words urgent and harsh.
“What am I doing?” she said, so loudly he practically jumped on top of her, waving his arms for her to shush. Did she want to bring the entire house running? Was she trying to get Luke to see what they’d done?
Finally, quieter, she said, “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to sleep,” he shot back.
He expected her to storm off. Or at least, hell, wouldn’t the normal thing be to apologize?
But instead, she started laughing. The only thing worse than realizing he’d just had h
is hands down Amanda’s pants was the fact that she was laughing in his face.
Not laughing like something was funny, though. Laughing like she wanted to kill him and go parading through town with his head on a spike. Laughing like he was the biggest idiot she’d ever met.
Which, maybe, he was. She ran her eyes up and down his body, lingering, he noticed, over the plane of his abs. “That didn’t feel like sleeping,” she said, staring at the bulge in his crotch.
His face flamed. See? This was why he’d never liked Amanda. She was so smirky and snarky and in-your-face about everything. Why couldn’t she just apologize nicely and leave?
“We traded,” Noah said, arms folded across his bare chest.
“After that whole song and dance about how Luke wanted the biggest room?”
“He liked the mattress in the other room better,” he mumbled, wondering why that, more than everything else, made his face feel impossibly hot.
Amanda threw up her hands. “And of course you gave it to him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She raised an eyebrow. Opened her mouth like she was about to say something then closed it and shook her head. “Forget it,” she said. “Let’s just—” She made a face, like she still tasted something bad. “Let’s pretend this never happened.”
“Fine with me,” he said.
“Fine.”
“Luke’s room is down the hall. You can wake him up instead.”
The look Amanda gave him was straight up murderous. But obviously he knew who she’d come in here trying to get with. Obviously, he knew who she wanted—and it sure wasn’t him.
With anyone else, it might have been funny. Some silly mix-up they could laugh about later—oh my God, remember that time when you got into bed with me? But neither of them were in the joking mood.
He waited for her to book it out of there so they could move straight to the never-speak-of-this-again phase instead of dissecting it more. But God forbid Amanda let anything slide.
“Who’d you think I was, anyway?” she said, her nose scrunching up in an ick face.
Wrong Bed, Right Brother (Accidental Love) Page 2