Wrong Bed, Right Brother (Accidental Love)

by Rebecca Brooks

  He settled on dark jeans, a button-down, leather shoes, and a herringbone jacket. He thought he was keeping it simple, but Luke did a double take as soon as he stepped out of his bedroom. “Wow,” he said. “Where are you going?”

  “Out,” Noah said unhelpfully.

  He’d been hoping Luke wouldn’t be home—he’d picked Friday specifically thinking Luke would have plans, when he’d wanted to see Amanda sooner. But things must have gotten canceled.

  Or maybe, when Luke wasn’t hanging out with Amanda, he didn’t have as much to do as Noah had assumed.

  “Call me after and we’ll get beers,” Luke said, glancing back to the TV.

  Noah paused. “I’m not sure how late I’ll be.” That part wasn’t a lie or even one by omission. He honestly had no idea where the night was going.

  “I’ll be up.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know.”

  Maybe his evening wouldn’t be that long, anyway. He shouldn’t make any assumptions.

  Breakfast had been nice, but that was only breakfast. Maybe they’d run out of things to talk about. Maybe there wouldn’t be anything more there. He could be back on this couch before he knew it, watching Netflix with Luke. Merely hoping he might not be back here until morning was a guaranteed way to make sure he’d be home in a matter of hours, the night a total bust.

  Yet another reason not to mention anything to Luke. How embarrassing would it be to have all this build up to something that sputtered out just like that?

  Even so, he slipped condoms and a toothbrush into his jacket pocket before he went out. Wishful thinking was dangerous. But it didn’t hurt to plan ahead.

  Noah waited outside the restaurant, trying not to be impatient since he’d already expected Amanda to be late. He wasn’t sure what to do when she finally arrived. Hug her? Kiss her? Cheek or lips? What was the right move when it came to this situation he’d so unexpectedly found himself in?

  But Amanda clearly wasn’t agonizing about how different this was from every other time they’d seen each other over the years. She was breathlessly going on about work and subway delays and how sorry she was. He quieted her by brushing the strands of her perfectly bleached bangs across her forehead. “You’re right on time,” he said.

  She stopped mid-sentence. “I thought you’d be mad at me for being late.”

  “I would have,” he admitted. “Before.” Before I knew you, he meant. “Except that you’re not.”

  He confessed that he’d made the reservation for seven-thirty while telling her to come at seven. She stepped back, mouth open. He thought she was going to laugh or tell him what a genius he was or say she was so relieved. But she smacked him with her purse. “I was so stressed!”

  “Aren’t you glad to know you’re perfectly punctual and that I’m delighted to see you?”

  She let her hand drop to her side and her purse along with it. “Delighted?” she asked, one eyebrow arched. He matched her look and held it.

  Finally, he saw her relent. “You’re only off the hook because my friends do it to me all the time. I didn’t know you knew the trick, too.”

  He smiled. “I’m learning.”

  “I had to go home and change after work,” she explained.

  “Same,” he said. “Although…you might have preferred it if I showed up in workout pants again.”

  She made a point of running her eyes over his body, so shamelessly he felt the heat build in his chest. Why had they opted for dinner instead of heading straight to bed? He leaned in close. “For what it’s worth, you nailed it,” he whispered in her ear, taking the excuse to inhale her scent and feel the tantalizing hint of her curves.

  She was wearing a dress that wrapped in some beguiling way he already wanted to untangle, with dark leggings or tights or some kind of thing that hugged every curve. He had to remind himself the date had been his genius idea, to see how they were together when their clothes weren’t half off and/or they were already gasping and sweaty.

  They headed inside to a table tucked in a corner and studded with candlelight. Too romantic, he worried suddenly, freezing at the thought. Remembering dates with Kristina, all the years they’d been together, the moment she’d said to him, “You know I’ll always care for you, Noah, but we got too serious too soon.” As though loving someone was the worst thing to happen in a relationship—the number one way to guarantee it would end.

  He turned to Amanda, afraid of what he might see reflected in her face from the candlelight. Fear, maybe. Revulsion. The certainty that the whole thing was too much. She didn’t want to be doing this. He’d taken it too far. He’d never known her to be in a long-term relationship or to talk about anyone serious from her past. The only person he’d ever known her to be interested in was his brother, and it hit him again, that sharp, stabbing fear—that she wished she were sitting down with his look-alike. That he was only the next best thing.

  But when he dared to meet her eyes over the menus, all he could see was her smile, the spark in her eyes. The certainty that neither one of them wanted to be anywhere other than here, with each other.

  …

  Amanda barely tasted the food or had any idea what she was drinking. Some part of her was aware that it was probably delicious, but she was hardly paying attention. She couldn’t stop looking at Noah, at the quirk of his lips and the curl in his hair and the way he seemed to test out a smile before he fully gave it.

  It seemed like they talked about everything. High school, college, moving to New York, their first apartments. “I always thought the video game thing was a waste of time,” he said at one point as she was talking about how graphic design was changing. He lowered his eyes. “Even when Luke got into it, I guess I had no idea how much you do.”

  “I had no idea what ‘running coach’ meant until I saw you in action. I guess—” She swallowed. Felt silly. Said it anyway. “I guess I kind of judged you, too.”

  “I should probably stop doing that,” he said with a smile.

  “That makes two of us.”

  When they finished dessert, she rested her hands on the table. He reached across and took her palms in his, stroking his thumb across the knuckles. She couldn’t believe this was happening—their fingers touching, the candle flickering, his eyes softening before her.

  Calling this a date was like calling Dom Perignon grape juice or figuring a tuxedo and sweatpants were the same thing since they both counted as clothes. If what Amanda had been on before were “dates,” then this was in an entirely different category. It needed its own word, something that hadn’t been invented yet. Going out with guys before had never felt like this. Nothing had ever felt like this.

  “How do you think this is going?” he asked her softly.

  She let her thumb slide over his. “So so,” she teased, biting her lip to hide her smile.

  His eyes widened. “That’s it?”

  “The night’s not over. I can’t give my final verdict yet.”

  “Then I’d better hurry up and make my move.”

  Now the smile was happening whether she wanted it to or not. “We don’t have all the time in the world.”

  She’d meant it to be flirty, egging him on, but it suddenly sounded serious. Too heavy for the night. She worried she’d punctured their warm little bubble by bringing in all that reality, the fact that their clock was counting down.

  But Noah nodded like he understood. “I want to invite you over, but…” He trailed off, even as his eyes didn’t leave hers.

  But Luke is there, she knew he meant. But I can’t.

  She tried to picture what would happen if she and Noah showed up at the twins’ apartment hand in hand and disappeared into Noah’s bedroom. She couldn’t even imagine how strange it would be.

  The problem wasn’t only that she and Luke were friends. Or that she’d spent so long wanting it to be Luke inv
iting her over. Or that Luke would probably see her as just some rebound after Kristina, which made her feel gross—even if Luke would think it more likely to have a piano fall on his head than see this pairing coming.

  It was just weird when someone you knew so well also knew you were getting laid in the room next door. It was weird to deal with this whole thing. To change his ideas and expectations. To also change her own.

  “I get it,” she said. “It’s complicated.”

  “But…” He stopped, and in the sudden silence, she lifted her eyes and looked at him. His lips were pressed into that Noah expression that was almost a smile but still not there. Like he didn’t quite know how it was supposed to look to be happy, but he was going to try anyway.

  “But what?” she let herself ask.

  He leaned over the table, his hands enveloping hers, his lips so close she could kiss him. She felt the warmth of his skin, the heat of his gaze, the candlelight flickering over them. Her own body felt like the flame.

  “But I didn’t say I need to be home,” he whispered.

  Amanda closed her eyes. She wanted to stay like this forever, feeling the brush of his fingertips, the press of his leg under the table. The subtle promise of his lips against her cheek.

  If she couldn’t have that, the least she could do was keep her mouth shut. Smile and say she had a nice time, then go home and crawl into bed alone and fall asleep alone and wake alone and spend her life alone. Safe and secure and never blindsided by the unexpected. Never walked out on or left behind or let down in all the ways that a person could be disappointed.

  She opened her eyes, taking him in.

  Why did this feel like such a big deal? It wasn’t like they hadn’t had sex. Multiple times. And spent enough time together to know there was still more to say.

  But that had been different. More different than she’d realized until this moment finally came and she had to open her mouth and decide.

  A bed was different. The night was different. A date, then bringing him home, and then who knew what else. Talking. Together. In bed. Maybe even waking up in his arms.

  Her chest strained. Her palms were damp. She wanted to say no. From somewhere inside her, the words were already coming out, some bullshit excuse she knew she didn’t mean. “I’m sorry, I’d love to, but I have a busy day tomorrow. My roommates don’t want me bringing someone home without notice.”

  But when she opened her mouth, all those practiced excuses wouldn’t come out. She shouldn’t open herself to him. Not when their lives were too intertwined. Not when he was leaving so soon.

  But she wanted to. She really, really wanted to.

  “Come home with me,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out. Knowing he was close enough to hear her.

  She felt the pressure of his hands gripping hers just a little bit tighter. “I thought you’d never ask,” he told her.

  I never thought I’d dare.

  Maybe he’d shred her heart into a million pieces. Maybe she’d regret this as soon as the morning rolled around. Her mother would warn her to keep her head screwed on. Her friends would be as shocked that she was going for it as they’d be that she was going for it with him and not with the man she’d thought she wanted for so long.

  But none of those people were living her life. In some strange way, she suddenly felt as though she hadn’t been living her life. Until now. Until she stood up from the table, slid her hand in his, and said, “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Noah sensed it as soon as he stepped into Amanda’s room. Something was different.

  Not just for-now different, or sex-in-a-new-spot different, or reminded-him-of-something different, but a change between them, a change inside him. It began in the center of his chest and radiated outward, reaching everything he touched. Spreading to her when he slid his fingers along her waist and pulled her close enough to kiss her.

  She’d warned him that she had three roommates, so there was no such thing as quiet. She’d also warned him that her room was a mess, because she’d had no time to clean up. And it was true there was music coming from one of the bedrooms, and the woman in the kitchen had looked almost too stunned to say hi when they’d walked by. He’d turned around just in time to catch her mouthing “What?” to Amanda in wide-eyed shock.

  Looked like there weren’t too many guys who strolled in late at night without warning, headed straight to Amanda’s bedroom, and locked the door. Or what if the roommate thought he was Luke and couldn’t believe Amanda was finally bringing him home?

  His stomach clenched, doubt rocketing through him.

  Then he caught sight of her bed, and the nagging fear that he was her second choice morphed into that molten hot feeling in his chest again, the one that made him reach for her, turn her in his arms, and press his lips to hers as they stood before the bed. The bed she’d obviously made that morning. Because she knew he might come over, now, after their date, to see it.

  No matter what she claimed, she had cleaned up. There was no way she hadn’t known there was a damn good chance they’d wind up here tonight.

  It felt like this was the first time they’d ever touched. The first time kissing her lips. The first time running his fingers through her hair. The first time feeling the searing thrill as he grazed his fingertips up the hem of her dress and felt the warmth between her thighs.

  But also like they’d done this all before, so he knew her body, her breath. He knew the way her lips parted and her tongue pressed back against his. He knew the weight of her breast in his palm and that delicious little whimper she did when he pulled down the cup of her bra and rolled her hardening nipple between his finger and thumb.

  She bucked her hips against him, and he pushed her toward the bed, shedding clothing as they went. His jacket fell off his shoulders. He pulled her dress over her head. He kicked off his shoes, laughed as her boots went flying, and she was suddenly two inches shorter in his arms.

  He loved it—not that she was shorter—he didn’t care about that—but that he’d seen the part of her she put on for the world, and now he was seeing the part of her at home, in her own quiet life where there was no one to dress for, no one to see.

  Except for him.

  “There’s a condom in the nightstand,” she said breathlessly as his pants came off.

  “I brought some,” he told her.

  She laughed. “Some?”

  “I was hopeful?”

  She kissed him hard.

  “Fingers crossed I can live up to expectations,” she said.

  He kissed her back, but it was different than the way he’d kissed her before. He’d say it was deeper, but he didn’t even know if that was it. Not softer—not at all. But more.

  “There aren’t any expectations,” he whispered.

  She tightened in his arms and he realized how that must have sounded. Like there weren’t expectations because this was just a one-off thing. Nothing to ask of each other and nothing to give.

  But he’d only meant that she didn’t have to be a certain way for him. She didn’t have to live up to anything.

  He just wanted her to be her. A thought so strange and surprising it almost made him laugh. “I only meant that we’re doing just fine.”

  Maybe words were never enough. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to use them. Whatever it was, he kissed her so she’d know he meant all the things he couldn’t find a way to say. So she’d keep on kissing him back.

  He took off her bra and pulled her underwear to the floor. When he laid her back on the bed, he could appreciate every inch of her body he’d never gotten to drink in before. They hadn’t been fully naked together yet, and after he finished stripping down, he lay on top of her, feeling their bodies radiating, skin to skin. Moving together, their legs intertwined, hips thrusting, his cock raging hard against the soft skin of her thigh.<
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  He wanted to be inside her, wanted to devour her, wanted there to be nothing between them.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered into the crook of her neck, kissing her where it made her moan.

  “I’ve been thinking about this forever,” she said.

  “Forever?” he echoed.

  She gave a small laugh. “Since the Hudson Valley.”

  His cock nudged up even harder at her confession. He’d longed to hear her say she’d wanted this since they’d planned their date. Since last week, at the absolute longest. Even knowing she’d thought about it since their quick fuck in her office felt like too much to hope for.

  To realize she’d been wanting this—his hands on her body, her nails down his back, her hips pushing up to meet his—as far back as the first time they’d accidentally kissed…

  If there was anything in him hesitating before, it was gone now. He wanted her, all of her, and there was no going back.

  He kissed her lips then her breasts, feeling her move underneath him. He stroked his fingers inside her and felt the soft gasp escape her lips as he pushed and pushed for her to open. Then he flipped her so she was on top, her legs wrapped around him, and all he wanted was more of those moans, those gasps, the way her hips rocked and her breath quickened with every flick of his tongue across her nipples.

  In his normal life, Noah was used to looking ten steps in advance. Each moment was a race mapped in his mind. He practiced. He planned. He succeeded. That was what he’d learned. That was how it was supposed to go.

  But this wasn’t a race, and her body wasn’t a course for him to mark. He didn’t want to rush to the finish. There was so much to savor, to taste. With his hands on her hips, he slid her body up until she was kneeling over his face. When he pushed his tongue inside her, he could feel her thighs tighten and the movement of her hips as she rode him. She gripped the headboard, grinding against his mouth, and he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do to bring her pleasure, no limit to the ways he wanted her to come. On his fingers, his cock, his tongue, over and over until there was no such thing as thinking, nor wanting because everything she wanted, she’d have.