“You’re drunk.” She squirms in his arms, trying to get away.
“Not yet. But I plan to be real soon.” He takes a deep swallow of the beer he’s holding, then releases her.
I can’t figure out the dynamics between them, but I know instantly that something is up. The tension is practically tangible.
Is she sleeping with him? From the little I know about her I wouldn’t have thought she’d go for someone like Travis. But then I really don’t know anything about her. Just that she’s obsessed with reading – and she’s living in my house.
Layla’s gaze flickers to mine, clearly uncomfortable.
Someone shouts at Travis from the house.
“I’ll be right back.” He hits me again on the shoulder, and I swear I’m going to put him in a goddamn headlock the next time he touches me. “Make yourself at home.”
Is he fucking serious?
God, the kid had it coming to him.
An awkward silence stretches between us before I finally ask, “So, you and Travis?”
“No.” She shakes her head, and her cheeks redden before she looks away. “It’s complicated.”
Complicated.
Shit. I know what that means.
Remembering the girl Travis was probably screwing upstairs, I’d say complicated was an understatement.
Best-case scenario, she has a crush on him. Worst, she’s sleeping with him. But there’s no doubt in my mind that they are involved somehow.
I want to ask, to dig deeper, but there’s also a part of me that doesn’t want to know.
“How long have you been living here?” I take a deep sip of my beer, watching her.
“A few months. Travis lets me stay for practically nothing as long as I cook and clean.” She fidgets with the book in her hand. “I didn’t know you and him were…I would never have…”
“You don’t have to explain.”
Her cheeks are still red. “Are you staying here?”
“I was planning on it, but if it’s going to be awkward I can go to a hotel.”
She shakes her head. “This is your place. If you want me to leave–”
“No,” I say a little too roughly. “It’s fine.”
I just fucking found her again, the last thing I want is for her to disappear. A year of fantasies, a need I couldn’t shake. I obsessed about her, wanting to possess every sweet innocent inch of her perfect body. Consume her until there wasn’t anything left.
I still do.
But if she really is with Travis, I may just be torturing myself by sticking around.
I scrub a hand over my face, feeling the hair scrape against my palm.
She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and looks at anything but me. I wonder if I should mention the wrong cell number, but then if she hadn’t tried calling, it’ll just make me look like a jackass.
“I’m going to turn in for the night,” she says awkwardly, pointing with her thumb at the house.
Say something, asshole.
“It’s good to see you again.”
She gives a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Layla?”
She stops at the sliding doors and glances over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I meant what I said. I do want to read your book.” I hadn’t lied about that. In fact, it was one of the things I hadn’t stopped thinking about. Which is fucking weird, because I don’t even like reading.
A small frown twists her lips and she shakes her head. “I’ve given up on that. Writing just isn’t my thing.”
I want to call bullshit, but she disappears before I get the chance. The thought of following her crosses my mind. But if she’s with Travis, in any way, I need to stay as far away from her as possible.
I finish the last of my beer, and go inside.
Travis is in the living room with his bong-buddies, smoking the thing back like it’s oxygen.
As much as I want to right now, I can’t leave. I still have to deal with whatever shit he’s got himself into.
Picking up my bags, I tramp up the stairs towards my old room. Travis’ door is open, and a quick glance lets me know that Layla isn’t in there. That’s one positive.
The third bedroom, at the end of the hall is closed, and there’s a soft light underneath the door.
At least I know she has her own room. Not that it’s much of a comfort. Because the more I think about it, the more I realize that complicated can only mean one thing – sex.
I’ve never been jealous of my brother. Not until right now.
I toss my bags in the corner of my room, then shut the door.
She was supposed to be mine. The thought comes unbidden, from a primal part of my brain. The part that’s beating its chest right now, demanding that I claim her, fill her with my cock, and make her scream my name so loud she’ll forget all others.
Swiping a hand over my face, then through my hair, I let out a heavy sigh. I’m used to life throwing curve balls, but this one I didn’t see coming.
Chapter 4
Layla
Travis glares at me over his coffee cup, and leans against the kitchen counter. Obviously sporting a wicked hangover. His eyes are rimmed red, and his hair sticking up in all different directions. The girl who was in his bed last night left a few minutes ago, and now his full attention is on me, and I can see him stewing for another fight.
Not today, please. I want to beg. Not when his brother, the man I’ve been dreaming about for the past year, is sleeping right above us.
“You’ve got to get rid of it.” Travis’ words are casual, like he’s talking about an old sweater, or piece of furniture that he wants taken to the dump, and not an actual human being.
“I can’t.” We’ve had this argument multiple times since I told him I was pregnant. And every time it ends with him storming out of the house and me in tears. Not because I really care what Travis thinks, but because I have no idea how I’m going to raise this baby on my own.
“It’s not even a baby yet,” he sneers, dragging his fingers through his brown hair. “It’s just a mass of cells. I don’t get what your problem is.”
I can’t explain the way I feel, not to him. Even if I did, I know he’d never understand.
“You’re being so fucking selfish.” He slams his cup on the counter, his voice getting louder. “This is my life too.”
“I told you. I don’t want anything from you.”
“Bullshit.” He grabs the bottle of Vodka off the counter and pours some into his coffee.
It’s not even nine in the morning and he’s already drinking. But that’s what he does. Drinks. Parties. Sleeps with countless women. It was a mistake to move in with him. Our lives are so completely different. But then I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the last few months as well. Mistakes I promised I would never make again.
I need to get out of here, and not just right now. I need to find a new place to live, ASAP.
“I’ll move out as soon as–”
“So then I’m the asshole who kicked his pregnant girlfriend out of the house?”
“I’m not your girlfriend.” I never was. It was just sex between us, and only once.
I’d been drinking – my first mistake. I don’t drink, or I usually don’t. But I’d had a really shitty week. I’d only meant to have one, maybe two beers, but then Travis’ friends came over, and they kept offering me drinks.
By the time I’d stumbled to my room, and stripped off my clothes, I was plastered. When Travis crawled in beside me I didn’t push him away – mistake number two.
Travis swears he used protection, but I can’t remember if he did or not. Either way, he got me knocked up. I’m just glad I didn’t get something worse, like an STD.
“Fuck, Layla.” He begins to pace. “I’m not ready to be a father.”
“I’m not asking you to be.”
“If you’re keeping it, you are.”
“I didn’t want this either, but–”
“
I’m starting to wonder if maybe you did.”
“Excuse me?” Is he kidding? I’ve never been a violent person, but right now I’m ready to slap him. My fingers wrap around the back of a kitchen chair, my knuckles whitening. “You better not be saying I planned this?”
“It just seems odd. We only slept together one fucking time, and it wasn’t even that good–”
“You really are an asshole.”
“And you’re being a selfish bitch.” Travis’ eyes burn with a mix of anger and fear. “If you think you’re going to trap me into marrying you, think again.”
“I didn’t even want to sleep with you. And I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been drunk.”
“You didn’t say no.”
“Because I was practically passed out.”
Travis’s face is bright red, but I can see the guilt there. Because he knows it’s the truth.
“Everything okay in here?” Carter stands in the doorway, looking between us, a dark scowl marring his handsome features.
He’s wearing low-rise jeans, and a dark t-shirt that does little to hide the corded muscles and broad shoulders beneath. Dark hair hangs in damp waves over his forehead, but it’s his eyes that hold me. Blue and piercing.
“Everything’s just peachy,” Travis says derisively, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out the window.
“Layla?” Carter asks me.
“Fine,” I mumble. Had he heard what we’d been talking about?
I know he’ll find out eventually, but I prefer not to be around when he does.
What terrible luck that the man I’d been fantasizing about for the past year is the brother of the one man I’m ready to strangle right now. The man whose baby I’m having.
Carter moves around the table, then grabs a coffee cup from the cupboards. “I’m going to get a room at the Radisson. Stay there until I figure out where I’m going next.”
“Why?” Travis’ brows draw down and he scowls.
Side by side, I see the resemblance.
Carter’s hair is darker, his eyes a lighter shade of blue, his body covered in a beautiful, twisted pattern of ink. But they have the same bone structure, the same lush bottom lip, and the same sullen broodiness that makes them both insufferably sexy, and incredible dangerous.
“I just think it’s better that way.” Carter watches me over his coffee cup as he takes a first sip.
“Whatever.” Travis glowers at him, then tosses his mug in the sink. “You can do whatever the hell you want to do. You always do.”
“Someone woke up in a shitty mood.” Carter leans against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other, biceps bulging when he lifts his cup to his lips.
“Screw off.” The tension radiating off Travis is almost violent. “Both of you.”
I’ve got to get out of here before I say something I shouldn’t. Or worse, start to cry.
“Where are you going?” Travis glares at me when I grab my purse off the table.
“Some of us have to work,” I snap.
He grabs my arm when I walk past him. “We’re not finished talking.”
I peel his fingers back. “Yes, we are.”
Ignoring Carter’s watchful gaze, I slip out of the kitchen and make a beeline for the front door. Angry words follow me out, but this time it’s Carter yelling at Travis. I can’t hear exactly what he says, but I can tell he isn’t happy.
I almost make it to my car when I hear the front door open behind me.
“Layla. Stop.” Carter’s voice is deep, commanding, like liquid heat practically stroking my skin and making my insides turn to molten lava.
I turn, my gaze lifting over his powerful chest, up his inked throat, to his handsome face.
Damn, why does he have to be so freaking hot?
His dark brows are drawn down, blue eyes full of concern.
I can’t do this right now. My hands are already shaking, and tears burn my vision. I still can’t believe that he’s Travis’ brother. I swear fate has it in for me.
Almost a year I’ve spent dreaming about those eyes, the taste of his lips on mine.
I’ve never been kissed like that. Ever.
I’d been on a high for days afterwards, debating whether or not to call him. A week later, I finally built up the nerve to dial the numbers. But his damn phone had either been disconnected, or worse, he’d given me fake digits.
In a way, I believed it was for the best. I didn’t expect to see him again. But here he is, standing in front of me, all sexy and brooding – and the brother of the man whose baby I’m carrying.
Fucking perfect.
“Are you all right?” He tilts his head, studying me.
“I’m running late.” I fidget with my keys, and look down at my hands.
“What’s going on?”
My back teeth grind together and I look away. “You should ask Travis.”
“I’m asking you.” He leans in, so close I can smell his scent, feel his warm breath on my cheek.
“It’s…complicated.”
“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You said that last night.”
“Look. I don’t want to get in the middle of you and Travis. You’re his family, and I’m…” I swallow hard and look away. “I’m just some girl that got mixed up with the wrong guy.”
Or more specifically, the wrong brother.
Carter’s nostrils flare and he glances back at the house, eyes narrowed, like he’s ready to beat the shit out of his brother. “I don’t know what he did–”
“He didn’t do anything.” That’s not technically true, but it isn’t my place to tell him what happened. God this is awkward. “You really need to talk to Travis. I know you two aren’t that close, but–”
“He told you that?”
I shrug. “It’s kind of obvious. But you’re still brothers. And this whole situation is just going to get more difficult once…”
Shit.
“Once what?” he demands.
Once I have your brother’s baby.
“Just give me a couple days to get my stuff together and I’ll be out of here.” I open the driver’s side door, then get in.
Carter shoves his hands in his jean pockets, but doesn’t move, even as I start to pull out of the driveway.
Once I turn the corner, far from Carter’s prying gaze, I let out the shaky breath I was holding in, and with trembling fingers, I pull out my cell and dial Kira.
“Bar guy is back,” I say when she answers, trying desperately to suppress the emotions that stir in my chest.
“Really? You saw him?” Of all the people in this messed up world, Kira knows me the best. She also knows what that night in the bar did to me. For a few short days, it made me believe again. Believe that life isn’t always so cruel, and that maybe there really are happy endings, even for girls like me.
What bullshit.
“So?” Kira pushes.
“He’s Travis’ brother.” There it is. The big cosmic joke. I swear if there is a God, he’s somewhere up there having a good laugh at my expense. Or maybe this is my punishment for being the little slut my mom always accused me of.
There’s a long stretch of silence before Kira responds. “Oh, shit.”
Oh, shit is right.
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. Except move out.”
“But–”
“I can’t stay there any longer. Especially not when Carter is there too.”
“Carter?”
“Bar guy.”
“Right.” There’s a heavy breath on the other end. “You know I’d let you stay with us if there was room.”
“I know.” Kira moved into a bachelor apartment four months ago with her current boyfriend, Max. It’s the reason I had to find a new place, because I couldn’t afford the rent at the old one without her.
I’m happy for her though. The two of them are cute together, and the guy seems to genuinely care about her. Which is something.
It was Max who introduced me to Travis and suggested I move in with him. Travis was looking more for a maid than a roommate, but the rent was cheap, and it was the first time I’d actually lived in a house, and not some rundown apartment, since I’d run away from home seven years before.
Everything was good at first. Travis was easy to get along with, if I ignored his excessive drinking, smoking, and the rotating string of women he brought home.
I liked having a backyard to plant flowers, and a large kitchen to make meals. And to cook for someone who actually enjoyed the different recipes I tried.
Kira had always been so picky, preferring Kraft Dinner over the fancier meals I made, like Chicken Parmesan or Eggplant Lasagna.
I’d been warned that Travis was a playboy, but I’d moved in on roommate only terms. And I’d spent the last seven years running from temptation. I didn’t have any worries where he was concerned, because I never intended for anything to happen between us.
Travis, being Travis, had other ideas.
Two weeks into living with him, I knew I was in trouble. He was all over me. It started out as innocent flirting, but quickly escalated when he realized I wasn’t falling for his typical moves.
It wasn’t that I didn’t find him attractive. Travis is gorgeous in that California surfer boy way. Dimples, rock hard body, and a carefree charm that makes you wish you could spend your day lounging in the sun.
But he wasn’t my bar guy. The one who haunted my dreams, with his intense blue gaze, and soft full lips.
The one.
At least that’s what my overdramatic brain believed. And this is why little girls should never be read fairytales. Because they’re complete and utter rubbish.
“Layla?” Kira’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Sorry. I was just thinking.”
She sighs, but there’s only sympathy when she says, “You’re sure you want to go through with this?”
No. I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything.
I blink back the tears that are blurring my vision. “I can’t get rid of it.”
“I know.” And she does. She’s one of the only people in this world that knows why I won’t have an abortion. Why I’d never survive. “I just meant that there are other options.”
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