“I’m trying to help.”
“If you want to stay here and watch over me, then I can’t stop you. But I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t–” My breath catches on a small sob that I can’t hold back.
Carter pulls me against his chest and buries his face in my hair, hushing me like a child that needs comforting.
I want to push him away. I need to push him away. But I can’t. All I can do is melt into his embrace and take all the strength and comfort he’s offering.
“I’m…” I gulp in a breath, clutching the hem of his t-shirt in my fists and resting my forehead against his chest. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t want anything that you’re not ready or willing to give.” His palms are on my face, fingers tangled in the back of my hair, and he uses his thumbs to force my chin up to look at him. “I’m not pressuring you. I just want to be here. For you. For this baby. That’s all.”
More tears stream down my cheeks, and my chest tightens. “It’s too hard.”
“What is?”
“Being with you. Touching you.” There’s the truth. Right out in the open. And there’s no taking it back.
His lips twitch up slightly.
“It’s not funny.” I frown up at him.
“No. It’s not.” His grin gets a little bigger, even though I can tell he’s trying to hold it back.
I push on his chest, but he doesn’t let me go. “Then why are you smiling.”
“Because you want me.” He brushes the tears off my cheek with the pads of this thumb and smiles down at me. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He leans down, so that his lips brush against the shell of my ear, and whispers, “I want you too.”
A shiver races across my skin.
I pinch my eyes closed, trying to think of anything other than the way he’s holding me, making my body crave him in ways I never thought possible.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” His thumb strokes across my bottom lip.
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m not like my brother. I won’t take off the minute it gets hard. I know what I’m getting into.”
He doesn’t even know the half of it. It’s not just this baby or the stuff with Travis. There are things in my past that broke me, and after seven years, I’m not sure I’ll ever heal.
Maybe he has some hero complex. Wanting to save the damaged and broken damsel in distress.
“I don’t need saving if that’s what this is about.” I may be damaged, but I don’t need a man to make everything better in my life. Even if that man is Carter Bennett.
I put my hands on his chest to push away, but he captures my wrists.
“That’s not what this is about.” He tilts his head close to mine, gaze boring into mine. “Don’t push me away.”
Too late. My walls are already up.
“Maybe you’ve got some white knight complex, but I can take care of myself. I always have.”
“Do I look like a white knight, Layla?” His voice is intense, his gaze daring.
I blink up at him. The ink that covers his skin, the dark scruff that shadows his jaw, the piercing blue eyes that scream danger. No, he looks more like the bad boy ready to break my heart than the hero of childhood fantasies. But inside I know he’s more than that. He’s good. And honest. And I so don’t deserve him.
“How can you want this?” I spit out, using my frustration as a weapon against him.
“I want you. That’s all that matters.” The seductive tone of his voice winds through me like liquid heat, warming my blood, and sending a thrill racing down my spine, straight to my core.
Unconcealed desire thrums between us with scorching intensity, so strong I can’t deny it even if I tried. It’s been building since the first night we met. I’ve tried to push it down. To think that maybe it was just me. Now he’s voiced the truth, and there was no turning back from that.
He wants me. I want him. It’s as simple, and yet as complicated as that.
Still…
“I don’t know.” I do know. I want him so bad, my body aches with the need to feel him inside me. And more than that, I want his strength. His support – his love.
Foolishness.
I’ve never considered myself a weak person. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember. Never relying on anyone.
But the promises he’s made. The hope that they fuel. It’s makes me want. And wanting is a very a dangerous thing to do.
“You don’t have to make any decisions right now.” His fingers brush across my face, down my neck, and every cell in my body screams for him to kiss me. “I’ll be patient.”
Kiss me, my body screams, despite my mind’s protest.
He leans down and I think he’s going to. Instead, he presses his lips against my forehead and lets out a small sigh, then pulls back. “I’ll go make some coffee.”
I’m both grateful and disappointed when he walks out of the room, leaving me alone with my chaotic thoughts.
I want more than anything to trust Carter. To believe that maybe, just maybe, this crazy relationship might work. But there’s so much more than just us to think about. There’s Travis. And the baby. Not to mention what people would think about me if I just jumped from one brother’s bed to the other.
Slut.
Whore.
Those names scream into my brain, condemning me.
I can’t do it.
We’ve already got too many strikes against us.
This thing between us is impossible. Even if he really is the one, the world will never accept it.
Chapter 17
Layla
Carter is true to his word. He’s more than patient. I know now why Travis nicknamed him Saint fucking Carter. The man truly has the tolerance of a saint. Even during my emotional outbursts and crying spells, which have become more and more regular lately – damn pregnancy hormones – he just holds me and reassures me that everything is going to be all right. He’s convincing enough that I’m actually starting to believe it.
As the days and weeks go by with him living under the same roof, it starts to become easy to accept him in my life, mostly because he’s always here.
And it’s nice – more than nice. It’s wonderful.
When I wake up in the morning, there’s a pot of decaf coffee waiting for me, and when I get home from work, he usually has dinner waiting for me. I’ve stopped trying to avoid him by staying in my room in the evenings, instead I join him in the living room and curl up on the couch beside him, reading a book while he watches whatever game is on television.
He hasn’t tried anything with me, and I haven’t asked him back into my room, but that doesn’t mean the connection isn’t there, if anything it’s just continued to grow. Only now, I’m starting to realize that my bad boy hero who saved me from being run over by a car a little over a year ago isn’t really so bad – he’s actually really sweet.
But he’s also the most stubborn, pig-headed man I’ve ever met. I know he’d say the same thing about me, but the difference is I’m right. At least when it comes to my work. We’ve had more than a few arguments over how often I’m on my feet. But so far I’ve won every single one. Because not all of us can be former NHL stars that can work whenever or if ever they want.
I don’t grudge him for it. I know he worked his ass off getting where he did, and even now, he constantly stays busy.
I came home from work early last week to find him in the basement with a construction crew, working alongside them on whatever project he has going on down there.
And he cleans.
He’s meticulous with everything. I thought I was a neat freak, but he’s worse. When Travis lived here, I was constantly cleaning up after him and his friends. But Carter has respected my space, only once bringing a friend back to the house, and then only for dinner and a few beers on the back porch.
The guy really is perfect. And I kind of hate him for it. Because
it makes the temptation that much worse.
We’ve become…friends. And that’s something.
No, it’s not ideal, and yes it’s still complicated, but it’s nice to have someone other than Kira to talk to.
It’s nice to not be alone.
Carter is sitting on the couch, crouched over his laptop that sits on the coffee table, brows drawn down as he types furiously.
Every time I see him, I can’t help the butterflies that flutter in my chest. No amount of time will ever dull how freaking gorgeous the man is. His hair is long right now, needing a trim and hanging over his eyes. And the dark scruff has grown into a decent beard that he keeps neatly trimmed. I’ve never been a fan of beards, but on him it just looks sexy and rugged. That combined with the ink that covers his bulging biceps and forearms, he oozes primal sexiness.
Get a grip, Layla. I blink away the thought.
“I’ll stop by the grocery store after work. Do you need anything?”
“You’re working again?” Carter looks up from his computer and frowns at me. There it is. The dark, broody look he gets when he disproves of something I do.
“I’m taking an extra shift at the restaurant this week,” I say evenly, giving him my own look that says don’t argue with me.
“If you need money–”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“I know.” He shuts his laptop and stands.
Shit. Here we go. While I appreciate his concern, I can’t let him think that I need to be taken care of, especially not financially. Him letting me live here for practically nothing is already more than enough.
I search my purse for my keys, and a lip-gloss falls out of one pocket onto the floor. I lean over to pick it up, but when I straighten, my vision starts to darken to a single point of light in front of me.
Crap.
I drop my purse, reaching frantically for the wall, or anything to stop myself from passing out.
“Damnit, Layla.” Carter’s voice is too far away, and I know there’s no way he’ll get to me on time.
I’m falling fast.
My body hits something hard and warm, and it takes me a second to realize it’s Carter. Next thing I know, my feet are no longer on the floor and he has me cradled against his chest.
“Put me down.” I squirm in his arms as my vision returns.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“It was just a dizzy spell. It’s normal. I’ve already talked to my doctor about it.”
“That’s the second time you’ve passed out in my arms. There’s nothing normal about it.”
“I have to go to work.” I wriggle against him, but he’s too damn strong. “Put. Me. Down.”
“No,” he growls, blue eyes dark and possessive when he looks down at me. “Not until I know you’re all right.”
“I’m fine.” I go limp, knowing there’s no sense fighting. I’m pretty sure he’d toss me over his shoulder like a goddamn caveman and carry me to the hospital if he has to.
“I’d rather have a doctor’s opinion.”
“I’m not going to the damn doctor because I was a little dizzy.”
“Well, you’re not going to work, either.” He puts me on the couch, and when I start to move he points a finger, and snarls, “Stay.”
As sexy as the whole Neanderthal, possessive thing is, I really can’t deal with this today. Twice last week I was late because my stomach wouldn’t settle, and the week before that I missed an entire shift because I was so sick I couldn’t get out of bed.
“Here.” He hands me a glass of water, then moves my hair off my neck and places a cool washcloth on it.
How the hell am I supposed to stay mad at him when he does stuff like that? Why can’t he be an insufferable jerk like every other guy I’ve known?
I take a sip. More to appease him than anything, then place the glass on the side table. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Someone does. You’re pushing yourself too hard when you don’t have to.”
“Yes. I do.” I start to stand and regret it immediately. The room spins and I have to sit down again.
“That’s it. I’m taking you in,” the growl in his voice makes me not argue, because I’ve gotten to know his moods pretty well, and there’s no arguing with the one he’s in now.
Yeah, stubborn doesn’t even begin to describe Carter Bennett.
Thirty minutes later, we’re in the small exam room of my family doctor’s office. I’m pretty sure her schedule was completely booked, but Carter was more than a little insistent, and the meek looking woman behind the desk looked both terrified and enamored by him – a common reaction to the mammoth man.
Now he’s pacing the small room, arms crossed over his chest, a deep frown on his face.
“Would you stop that?” I’m sitting on the exam table wearing one of those ridiculous paper gowns. “Or I’m kicking you out.”
I didn’t want him coming in to begin with, but it was another of his absurd demands.
“I want to hear what the doctor has to say.”
“You don’t trust me?”
He grunts, leaning against the counter, muscular arms crossed over his chest.
The door opens then, and Dr. Evans comes in, her silvery gaze going straight to Carter. The woman has to be in her late sixties, but I can see her appreciative look as she takes him in. Another common reaction.
She holds out her hand to him. “You must be the father. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Heat slams into my face and my mouth goes dry.
“Nice to meet you too.” His face remains stoic as he shakes her hand, but I don’t miss the flicker of emotion in his eyes.
Dr. Evans turns to me and smiles. “What brings you in today?”
“She fainted. Twice,” Carter says, all growly and possessive.
I glare over at him before looking back at the doctor. “I’ve had a few dizzy spells, that’s all.”
“She practically collapsed in my arms this morning.” He looks at me as if daring me to argue with him.
I shake my head. “I’m fine. Really.”
“We’ll check your blood pressure, and I’ll order a few tests.” She places the cuff around my arm and smiles up at Carter as if she’s falling for his grizzly bear act. “Have you heard the baby’s heartbeat yet?”
“No” we say in unison.
It had been too early the last time I’d been in.
She places her stethoscope on my arm, watching the numbers on the machine, then uncuffs me. “Your blood pressure is a bit low, but nothing concerning. Just try not to stand up too quickly.”
“See,” I say to Carter.
He keeps frowning, not looking convinced.
The doctor places a blanket over my legs, then lifts the gown, exposing my slight, almost imperceptible rounding of my belly.
She squirts goo on my stomach and I flinch at the coldness. The minute she presses the microphone-looking device against my skin, the room fills with a soft thumping.
“There it is.” Dr. Evans smiles at both of us. “Nice and strong.”
Oh, wow.
My baby’s heartbeat.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes, but I don’t even try to brush them away when they start to slip down my cheek.
Carter reaches for my hand, and his big strong fingers wrap around mine. When I look up at him, I see emotion reflected in his gaze. He gives me a small smile.
The doctor is saying something, but I barely hear her words. All I can focus on is the sound of my baby’s heartbeat, and the way Carter is watching me now.
“…and try to rest whenever you can.”
I do catch her last words, mostly because of Carter’s reaction.
His head snaps up. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes, wanting to slap the doctor for giving him even a small excuse to lock me up in the house.
“We’ll see you both in a few more weeks for your scheduled ultr
asound.”
Carter helps me sit when were alone again.
“I told you everything is fine,” I mumble.
“She said you need to rest more.”
Of course, that’s what he picked up on.
He hands me my clothes, and stands there watching me.
“Can you turn around?”
He grunts, and turns slightly.
I pull my jeans on, and have to suck in a breath to do the button up. Another reminder that I’m going to need to buy maternity clothes soon. Another expense that I can barely afford. This is why I need to work.
“Can you drop me off at the diner on the way home?”
“I already called and told them you wouldn’t be in today.”
“You did what?”
He turns to look at me, but I’m still naked from the top up.
“Turn around.” I grab my shirt to cover myself, heat warming my cheeks.
His eyes darken, and it takes him a second longer than it should to redirect his gaze.
When his back is to me again, I ball my fingers into fists, take a couple deep breaths, and try not to completely lose it on him. But he makes it so damn easy.
“You shouldn’t have done that without asking me. I told you I need the money.”
“No, you don’t. I’ll help you with whatever you need.”
“I’m not going to be a charity case.” I shove my head and arms through my shirt and adjust it.
“Me wanting to take care of you doesn’t make you a charity case.”
“Then what does it make me? Cause I can think of a lot worse words.”
He turns then, fire in his eyes. “It makes you mine.”
Oh.
Silence.
He takes a step towards me, and I know I should back away, but my legs lock, and my heart starts to pound frantically in my chest.
“It makes you mine, Layla,” he repeats, reaching out and placing his palm on my cheek.
I can tell he’s holding back, seeing his control starting to fray. There’s hunger in his eyes. Sexual and intense.
Either I run now, or I give in.
This is the crux.
The point of no return.
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