Second Draft

by C. M. Seabrook

He doesn’t let go. “Are you feeling sick?”

  “Just a little lightheaded.” I can’t help but lean into his touch. “It’s…normal. Pregnancy hormones or something.”

  He frowns and exhales heavily. “Still. You should go in to see your doctor.”

  “I’ll tell her about it at my next appointment.”

  He’s still touching me.

  I know I should move. Take a step back. But it’s like the world around us has stopped.

  Almost involuntarily, or at least that’s what I tell myself, I place my hands on his broad chest. I can feel every hard ridge of his body, every muscle as it tenses under my touch.

  I have to tilt my chin to look up at him, and when I meet his intense gaze, another thrill shoots through my body.

  For a long second, neither of us says anything.

  Just feelings.

  Raw.

  Intense.

  Wrong.

  Feelings.

  I shouldn’t be touching him. Or feeling the things I do. It isn’t right.

  “I think I need to lie down.”

  His lips twitch down, then takes a step back, and slowly releases me. “I’ll finish the dishes.”

  “Thank you for dinner.”

  He nods, but his back is to me before I can say anything else.

  “I have to leave for a few of weeks,” he says, when I start to walk away.

  “Oh.” Disappointment floods through me, even though I knew he wouldn’t be here forever. He has a job that requires him to travel, and an apartment in New York. Of course he has to leave.

  This is why I need to stay away from him. Why I can’t let my emotions get involved.

  The muscles in his back bunch under his t-shirt as he scrubs a plate, then places it in the rack beside the sink. “I’ll leave my cell in case you need anything.”

  “A new dishwasher,” I tease, hoping to lighten the tension between us.

  He gives a small grunt, and looks over his shoulder at me, expression unreadable. “I’ll order one tomorrow.”

  With a frustrated sigh, I make my way to my bedroom. Maybe it’s just as well that he leaves. I can’t afford to lose control, or act on my growing need for him. The longer he stays, the more I’ll get used to having him around.

  Chapter 14

  Layla

  “When does he come back?” Kira asks, plopping down on the couch beside me, her strawberry blonde hair twisted in a messy bun on top of her head.

  “He said a few weeks, but I don’t know. I lived here for almost four months with Travis before Carter ever came by. Maybe he just plans on staying away.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  I shrug. “It would make things easier.”

  “You still like him, don’t you?” Her brows raise.

  “No.” I shake my head. Lie. I’m twisted up in knots over him. “I mean I can’t. He’s Travis’ brother. How weird would that be?”

  “Weird,” Kira admits. “But it’s not like Travis is around.”

  True. But he could come back. It’s not likely, but there’s always the chance.

  Travis doesn’t have a possessive streak in his body, but I doubt he’d be pleased if he came home and found me sleeping with his brother.

  “It’s your life, Layla. You can’t let what other people think dictate what you do. I thought you’d learned that by now.”

  “It’s not just what people would think.”

  “You’re worried he’s going to bail on you like Travis.”

  “Maybe. Yes.” I shrug. “It’s just every time I’m in the same room with him, I feel…” God. I don’t even know what I feel. I just…feel. So many damn things.

  Nervous.

  Happy.

  Safe.

  And the worst, lust.

  It’s foolish to even think about it.

  But he makes me want things I never wanted before. Craving something I can never let myself have.

  “He’s just so…” Confident. Sexy. Strong. Gorgeous.

  “Yeah. You’re not into him at all,” Kira teases, obviously reading my thoughts on my face.

  I sigh, heavily. “I can’t afford to be.”

  Her lips tug down and she shakes her head, expression suddenly serious. There’s something else on her mind. Something she’s been wanting to say since she got here. I can see it in her eyes.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She fidgets with the throw pillow she’s holding in her lap.

  I know the look she’s giving me and it’s definitely not nothing.

  “Tell me,” I demand, narrowing my eyes. “Is it Max?”

  “No. Max and I are great. It’s…” Her face scrunches when she winces, then takes a deep breath. Apology is written all over her pretty features when she says, “Your parents were asking about you the last time I went home.”

  Oh.

  Little prickles of warning bite at my flesh.

  “You saw them?”

  “At church.”

  I exhale a shaky breath, my insides twisting thinking about them, about Kira talking to them. Almost like it’s a betrayal of our friendship, even though I know it’s not. I shouldn’t be surprised that she spoke with them.

  We grew up an hour and a half north of here in a small town, attending the same fundamentalist church. She still goes whenever she’s home, which isn’t very often, especially since her family found out she was working in a bar and had a major flip out. They practically threatened to disown her if she didn’t quit.

  That’s the type of people the town breeds.

  Judgmental.

  Critical.

  People that shun anyone who disobeys any one of their million rules.

  Like me.

  Kira got out of there as soon as she had the chance. The day after graduating, she hitched a ride out of town. It was luck, or fate, that she started working in the same small diner that I rented an apartment above.

  We reconnected. Our friendship bonded on our rebellion.

  I didn’t have to tell her all my dirty secrets, because she already knew them – everyone in Springcreek new.

  It’s the reason I left at fifteen. Stole a hundred dollars from my Dad’s underwear drawer and hitchhiked to the first town where I could find a job.

  The first few months I was afraid that my father would show up and try to drag me back home. But it soon became obvious that he wasn’t looking for me. Nobody was.

  “You should go see them,” Kira says.

  I narrow my eyes at her, and say sarcastically, “Right.”

  “I’m serious. Maybe this is a second chance. Not just for you, but for them too.”

  “I’ll think about telling them I’m pregnant when you tell your parents your living with Max.”

  She snorts. “Point taken. But–”

  “I’d rather not talk about them.”

  “Okay.” She smiles sadly, then grabs the remote and turns on the television, flipping the channels until she finds one of those cheesy made for TV movies.

  I appreciate the distraction. I know Kira means well, but she doesn’t know the whole story. The real reason I ran. I’ve never told anyone, and I probably never will.

  There are some things that are just too dark to share. Some demons that are better left buried in the past.

  Chapter 15

  Carter

  It’s hell being away from Layla.

  Three weeks and I feel like another year has passed. But this is the first time I’ve been able to get away. At least now, hockey is over, and I don’t have to go back to New York for two more weeks.

  My boss is on me to renew my contract for next season, but I haven’t made up my mind, and I won’t until I know what I’m going to do about Layla.

  If it was up to me I’d quit my damn job tomorrow, sell my New York apartment, and move in with her permanently. But I’m not sure how well that would go over. Every time I called over the past few weeks to check in on her, she seemed to have grown more and more
withdrawn, like she’s purposefully distancing herself from me.

  I get it. She’s scared. And who wouldn’t be in her position.

  But I need her to realize that I’m not my brother. I won’t leave her the second things get hard.

  It’s past eleven when I pull up to the house in my rental car. The lights inside are off, except a small lamp in the front living room.

  I know she’s probably already asleep, but the buzz of excitement, just being back in the same house as her, tingles through me. I’m a grown-ass man, but she makes me feel like a goddamn teenager again with his first crush.

  The house is quiet when I shut the front door behind me, locking it.

  I put my bags down when I see her. Fast asleep on the couch, Layla is curled up, a book lying open on her chest. Her lips are slightly parted, her light brown hair hangs over one soft cheek.

  God, she’s beautiful, and my fingers itch to touch her.

  “Layla?” I take the book and place it on the coffee table, but she doesn’t respond.

  Her neck is tilted in a funny direction, and I know she’s going to be stiff tomorrow if I let her sleep down here.

  One arm under her knees, I pick her up, cradling her to my chest.

  She stirs slightly, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.

  “Carter,” she mumbles, not opening her eyes.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

  She mutters something incoherent, then buries her face against my chest.

  My heart does one of those flip flop things, the one that warns me that this thing between us is more than just physical.

  Taking my time, because I want to prolong every moment I can holding her, I carry her up the stairs, glancing once at my bedroom door and for a brief moment contemplating taking her in there.

  Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go over to well.

  I sigh, and open her door wider with my foot, then gently place her on the bed. But when I try to stand, her fingers continue to grasp my shirt.

  “Stay,” she murmurs, groggily.

  I don’t know if she’s talking in her sleep, or if she actually wants me to stay. The latter makes hope flare in my chest.

  “Layla.” I place my palm on her cheek.

  “Stay,” she repeats, eyes still closed.

  How the hell can I argue with that?

  I kick off my shoes, and crawl in beside her. The second I do, she snuggles close. So close it’s like she’s using her body as a blanket, one leg drapes over mine, and her head rests in the crook of my shoulder, her palm flat on my chest.

  Her small, curvy little body fits perfectly against mine.

  “I’m glad you’re back.” Her voice is husky with sleep, and something more – desire.

  She rubs herself against my thigh, and my already hard cock turns to steel.

  God, what the woman does to me.

  When I shift slightly, she murmurs, “Don’t leave.”

  “I won’t,” I press my lips against the top of her hair and breathe in her soft, feminine scent.

  There’s no way in hell I’m leaving.

  I also know I won’t be getting a minute of sleep tonight. Not when she’s wrapped around me, making every damn cell in my body vibrate with need, the ache in my balls growing every second she’s touching me.

  But there are some things that are worth the pain – and Layla is definitely one of them.

  Chapter 16

  Layla

  I wake slowly, body warm and tingling from the erotic dream I’d been having.

  “Carter,” I murmur.

  His big, strong body is pressed hard against mine, his hands roam across my skin, touching me in places that begged to be touched.

  A small moan escapes my lips, because I don’t want to wake up, the dream is too real, and my body hums with pleasure. I can almost feel him beside me, his heavy erection jutting against my backside, fingers linked in mine.

  Suddenly I’m wide awake because I realize it isn’t just a dream.

  Carter is in my bed. His thick, powerful arms wrapped protectively around me, and yes, his serious morning wood is digging erotically into my back.

  Oh. My. God.

  My mouth goes dry as I remember bits and pieces of the night before.

  Had I actually asked – no begged – him to stay?

  I had.

  And he had.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Mortification mixes with arousal.

  His breath is warm against my neck, and his cock, hard and heavy, nudges my backside.

  I try my best not to move, not to wiggle against him, but it feels so damn good.

  It’d be easy to just to turn in his arms and let him kiss me. Let him take me. Let him make me feel something other than tainted and used.

  Because I know being with Carter would be different. It would be more than just sex.

  At least for me.

  He’s the one I should have waited for. And I would have. I was going to. I had no intention of messing up my life again because of sex.

  But then there was Travis.

  I wasn’t a virgin when we slept together despite how many times he teased me about it.

  I’d been with someone years before. But after the firestorm that rained down on me over it, I’d sworn off sex, at least until I found the one.

  Travis was definitely not the one. But he was so damn persistent. And even though he had the whole playboy thing going, we’d become friends.

  And I was lonely.

  And drunk.

  And he was there.

  Just like Carter is now.

  A knot forms in my stomach. Is that why I feel the way I do? Because he’s here and I’m lonely?

  Mixed emotions swirl through me, fear finally overpowering lust.

  I shift away from him, doing my best to untangle myself from his viselike grip.

  “Good morning.” He stretches, looking just as gorgeous as he always does. He gives me a smile that cuts me to the core, and my stomach flips and twists at what I see in his eyes. Acceptance. Desire. Affection.

  I shouldn’t let him affect me the way I do. I fight the explosion of emotions that threaten to take me hostage, linking me to this man emotionally, in ways I never thought possible.

  It’s so easy to freeze up behind my fears, but the way he’s watching me, there’s that familiar ache I get with him, the one that urges me to just let go.

  Sitting up, self-consciously I comb my fingers through my knotted hair.

  “Morning,” I mutter, fidgeting.

  He lifts himself on his elbows, smile gone now, only concern evident there. Blue eyes, dark and stoic watch me.

  I wish I could do the same, but I’m pretty sure he can read every thought, every emotion on my face.

  “How long are you back for?” I move off the bed and walk to my closet, needing the distance to gather my thoughts.

  His gaze is intense when he says, “As long as I need to be.”

  I don’t know what that means. But I’m too damn scared to ask.

  Why would he need to be here? For me?

  I swallow hard and try to get those damn walls back up, but the way he’s watching me, it’s like he has the ability to bore through all my defenses with a single look.

  “You can do that?” I turn my back to him. “Just work whenever you want?”

  I hear the creek of the bed behind me.

  “Hockey season is over. I won’t have any work that can’t be done from home until September.”

  “Home?” Is he planning on staying here?

  When he comes up behind me, I turn slightly and look up at him.

  “I have an apartment in New York.” A muscle in his jaw bunches, and he looks like he’s restraining himself from touching me.

  If I was smart, I’d take a step away. Instead, I just stand there, silently begging him to pull me into his arms.

  He rubs the back of his neck. “But if you want me to stay…”

  I swallow har
d, not sure what exactly he’s asking.

  “This is your house, you can stay here whenever you want.”

  His mouth tightens in a thin line, but he doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching me.

  I shift uncomfortably under his gaze. “I need to get ready for work.”

  “Right.” He sighs. “There are some things we should sit down and talk about when you have some time.”

  A knot forms in my throat.

  “Okay,” I say, frowning. “Have you heard anything from him? From Travis?”

  The muscles in Carter’s face tense and I think I see a flicker of guilt there. “Yeah.”

  “Oh.” Even though I’d asked the question, I hadn’t expected that answer. But why should I be surprised that he’d contacted his brother? Of course they still spoke.

  “He got a job up north. He…” Carter looks up at the ceiling briefly, the muscle in his jaw pulsating before glancing back at me, gaze now full of sympathy. “He had some paperwork drawn up by a lawyer. About giving up his paternal rights. He asked me to give it to you.”

  “Of course.” Even though I’d expected as much from Travis, it still makes my insides twist knowing that he’d so easily give up his rights.

  “I’m sorry–”

  “You need to stop doing that,” I snap. “Apologizing. You’re not the one I had sex with, and this baby isn’t your responsibility.”

  Carter winces like I’ve physically slapped him. If my emotions weren’t so twisted, and I wasn’t so confused, I’d feel bad for my words. But we can’t keep walking around pretending that this is anything other than it is.

  Sure, it was a bitchy thing to say, especially after how nice he’s been to me, but I need those barriers back up, or else I’m in some serious danger of falling for him.

  I think he’s going to walk out. Actually, I hope that he does. Instead, he just stands there, looking at me with way more compassion than I deserve.

  All the pent up feelings that I’ve tried to bury inside bubble to the service, and I can feel my throat tightening. My hands start to shake, and tears blur my vision.

  Don’t cry, I warn myself, but it’s too late.

  He takes a step toward me. “Layla–”

  “No.” I shake my head and put my hands up to stop him from coming closer. One touch and I know I’ll lose it completely.