Detachment

by Shae Banks

  “I, uhh.” Heat rose in my cheeks at being caught blatantly eyeing one of them for a second time. I fixed my eyes on my forgotten glass. I’d only had half a glass, but I’d put my lack of inhibitions down to not having much to eat at lunch to counteract the alcohol. Convinced the wine was at fault for my constant ogling, I placed the glass on the nightstand before I could get in trouble for anything else and stood to put some much-needed distance between us.

  Disappointment swept through me when he tugged down his t-shirt and his abs disappeared from view. He moved until he was leaning on his elbows, his eyebrows dipping into a frown, and bringing my attention to his hazel green eyes. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  I blinked, dumbly at first, until his words registered. No longer distracted by his body, I got myself back under control enough to respond, “You didn’t. I’m… I’m just not used to someone being so forward with me.” Not trusting myself to sit on the bed next to him, I turned and placed my backside on the edge of the sill.

  “Not even your husband?” he challenged.

  That, I did not expect.

  Eyes wide with surprise, I fired back before my brain had chance to catch up. “Especially not with Fra—” Brain having finally caught up, my mouth slammed shut before I could say anything else. If I started talking about Francis, I didn’t trust what would come out. Caught between wanting to talk about it but also not, my shoulders tensed. I wanted a distraction, so I turned to look out the window while I tried to get my thoughts back under control.

  A niggling thought took root. “How do you know…” I stopped when realisation set in, and my mood soured. “Never mind. Lloyd. Of course it was Lloyd.”

  “Don’t be mad at him,” he pleaded. “Aside from work, you’re all he ever talks about.”

  “I bet.” I huffed, and annoyance with my twin for telling his friends my business had my arms crossing over my chest.

  When I gave Ryan my attention, I took in his easy smile and realised he wasn’t deterred by my prickly attitude. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed and was still leaning on his elbows while watching me.

  The silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, until Ryan asked, “Why are you here, Lyla? The real reason.”

  My arms tightened around my chest as if to ward off his probing question. The words could so easily leave my mouth, but if I did that then I wouldn’t be able to take them back. It’d be like having a flashing sign above my head signalling I’m a shitty wife and failure. With effort, I forced my arms to relax and gave him a shrug. “I left him. Things haven’t been right for a long time, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  Awareness darkens his eyes. “How bad was it?”

  Tension rolled through me as my head screamed, Drop it, drop it, please. I didn’t give voice to the words though. Nervous energy had me licking my lips, before I murmured, “It wasn’t—”

  As Ryan’s features hardened, I knew he wouldn’t let me hide from the truth, and as much as I didn’t want to face it, I knew I’d let him drag the truth from me. I didn’t want to deny him.

  “How. Bad?” Two simple words shouldn’t be able to hold so much damn power, but they did, and I felt them like a lashing across my already too sore pride.

  Defeat made my heart feel heavy, and I swallowed my natural response to snap at him. It wasn’t Ryan’s fault. If it wasn’t him pushing for me to speak the truth, then I know as soon as Lloyd returned home, he would. Admitting your faults to a stranger had to be easier than revealing you’re a screw up to your twin.

  With what felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders, I moved from the windowsill and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, the softness of the mattress and duvet offering little comfort.

  The bed shifted, but I didn’t dare look up, so I kept my eyes fixed to the floor. “He—” I stopped and took a breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “He wasn’t abusive, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Rough fingers grasped my chin and I flinched at the unexpected contact. Rather than let go, he added enough pressure to lift my face until I looked at him.

  His eyes briefly locked with mine before they moved across the rest of my face, studying me. “Wasn’t he?”

  The accusation in his tone had me clutching the duvet tightly between my fists, and my eyes closed against the pain of not wanting to admit out loud how bad it had really gotten. He’d never physically harmed me, no, but there were other ways to do damage. Irreparable damage. His fingers released my chin, only to brush lightly across my face until his palm cupped my cheek and his fingers came to rest under my ear. My breath hitched at the involuntary shiver from the foreign touch.

  “You should do something to celebrate being free of the shackles,” he announced, before pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt and tapping a single digit against the large tattoo. “That’s when I got inked.”

  Surprised by the sudden flip in conversation, I met his vivid, hazel green eyes. “I should?”

  “Yeah,” he murmured, raising his other hand and, with one finger, tracing the shell of my ear. “Get a tattoo.” Achingly slowly, his fingers moved up the side of my face until they traced my eyebrow. “Or maybe a piercing.”

  He shifted, leaning into me. His breath was warm on my cheek and I closed my eyes, not daring to move in case I broke the moment. Inches away from my face, he whispered, “A kiss…” His breath ghosted across my lips with the single word, and before I even realised I’d moved, I closed the distance between us and kissed him.

  The first touch of his tongue lifted the lust-filled cloud covering me, and the gravity of what I’d just done hit me. Shocked by my bold actions, I pulled away, my eyes snapping open. “I’m—” My words were cut short when Ryan took my waist with one hand and leaned forward to press his lips more firmly against my own, his fingers tracing up my back until they settled in my hair at the nape of my neck, and then he pulled me impossibly closer.

  A pathetic sound of protest escaped my throat when the hand at my waist fell away momentarily, but all thoughts disappeared as he grabbed my hand and pulled me over him, not once breaking the kiss. I took my own initiative and, with my hands on his shoulders, I moved until my knees settled on either side of his thighs. With a groan—I’m not sure who it came from—he fell back onto the bed and I happily followed, meeting his punishing kiss with one of my own as my heat pressed tightly against the rapidly growing bulge in his jeans.

  I did that, I caused his body to respond in such a way—pressure on the bottom of my back encouraged me to grind into him. Oh God. I moved against him as an unfamiliar sensation low in my stomach urged me to take more.

  Feeling bold, I straightened to look down at him, but rather than kiss me again, he reached up and grabbed the bottom of my top. A question in his eyes had me answering by raising my arms. Wasting no time, he pulled my top over my head and dropped it on the bed beside us. My heartbeat kicked into double time as I watched Ryan as he stared hungrily at my breasts, which were spilling over the purple lace of my bra. I should have been embarrassed, but the only emotion I seemed capable of was desire. No one had ever looked at me the way he was, like he wanted me, and for the first time ever, I enjoyed the way it made me feel. Men had leered at me in the past, but the way Ryan’s eyes darkened as they roamed over my breasts made me realise I could quickly become addicted to bringing out such lust, want, and heat out in him… or Thom, if I really admitted it to myself.

  Excitement fluttered in my stomach as I watched him free my breasts from the cups of my bra. His head ducked, and as his mouth closed over my nipple, the hot sensation drew a breathy moan from my throat, which caught me off guard. I’d never made a noise like that, not without faking it, and definitely not from a simple touch.

  “Ry, you back yet?”

  The front door closed with a bang, and Gunner’s barks could be heard from the garden.

  Horrified, I stared down at Ryan and whispered, “Oh my God…”

  R
yan let go of my nipple with a pop and simply smirked, but it fell away when he took in my expression. With a gentle caress, he reached up and brushed the hair out of my face and hooked it behind my ear. “Shh, it’s okay.” He placed a kiss against my cheek and patted my backside while guiding me from his lap. “I’ll go downstairs while you… well, you don’t have to get dressed but…”

  Embarrassed, I didn’t respond. Once standing, I snatched my top up from the bed.

  With my shirt clutched to my chest in a semblance of modesty, I watched Ryan leave the room with a grin on his face and a distinct swagger to his walk.

  Not even a full day away from Francis and I was already mauling someone else. Christ. What the hell had gotten into me?

  His happy swagger boosted my confidence though. I hadn’t initiated that. He’d sought me out, he’d wanted time alone with me. He’d been the one to kiss me, but I couldn’t pretend I would have put a stop to the proceedings had we not been interrupted.

  My top slipped through my shaking fingers as I tried to get my thoughts under control. Now really wasn’t the time for me to panic. Although, I wasn’t exactly sure where the panic stemmed from. When I thought about it, I was caught off guard when I realised I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Embarrassed, sure. Panic, maybe, at the potential of being caught by Thom while with Ryan. But neither regret nor guilt hit me at what had just happened. The unusual, squirming sensation I’d only just got accustomed with stirred in my stomach.

  With those confusing thoughts swirling through my mind, I didn’t want to go downstairs. I would have preferred to hide away and try to process what I was feeling where Ryan, and admittedly Thom, were concerned. If I didn’t show my face, though, Thom might think something was wrong and search me out, and the last thing I needed was to be alone with another man in a bedroom.

  Mind racing, I took a breath as I slipped my arms into the sleeves of my top before pulling it over my head.

  I tried to finger-comb the knots out of my hair, bringing back to order, but my fingers caught in several strands. Giving up, I pulled it into a ponytail and then rubbed my sweaty palms down my thighs. Now presentable, I headed downstairs, only to pause on the bottom step. Ryan and Thom were talking in the kitchen, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. With a hand on the railing, I strained to listen, but was caught in the act by Gunner trotting into the hallway and sitting at my feet.

  “Hello, big man.” I ran my fingers through his fur as I tried to gain the courage to go into the kitchen and face Thom and Ryan.

  With no idea what they’d discussed, and not being able to hide out here in the hall all evening, I stepped off the bottom step and went into the kitchen with Gunner following behind.

  “You’ve only got yourself to blame. You should’ve learned the last time you allowed him to do the orders,” Thom admonished, pouring milk into three mugs

  “Is it too much for me to expect him to do his damn job?” Ryan snapped, irate.

  “In Gareth’s case, yeah,” Thom drawled, as he shoved the milk bottle against Ryan’s chest. He spotted me in the doorway and smiled.

  “You mean he’s done it before and you didn’t think to check?” I asked, my voice raising a couple of octaves as I gawked at Ryan.

  Ryan used his elbow to shut the fridge before he trudged across the kitchen and pulled out a chair. With a grumble, he sat and complained, “Right. It’s my fault he’s a feckless prick.”

  I tried not to laugh at his sulking expression as I sat opposite him. Thom placed my favourite cup filled with tea in front of me, then reached behind to the drawers. The top one held cutlery, but I wasn’t sure what else was there.

  “Thanks.” Fingers warm from holding the cup, I cut Ryan a look. He laid his head on the table in a display of dramatic woe. “I take my apology back. It’s your own fault.”

  Thom shut the drawer, holding a handful of paper I couldn’t make out, and turned to the table, but stopped at my words with a startled laugh that mixed with Ryan’s muttered curse.

  Having got himself under control, Thom settled at the table with what turned out to be a stack of menus. “Takeaway tonight, Lyla, you can choose where. Feel free to order extra fries.”

  The devil on my shoulder poked and I snorted back laughter.

  Ryan raised his head from the table, giving me an odd look before chuckling, and warned, “Don’t you dare.”

  Pressing my lips firmly together, I fought to hold in my mirth, but couldn’t contain it. I smirked then challenged, “Or what?”

  Thom’s easy laugh filled the kitchen as he threw an arm over the back of the chair, as if to settle in and watch what might happen. “Well, guess that’s the entertainment for this evening.”

  Ryan stood abruptly from his chair, the wood scraping across the floor from his sudden move. Something gleamed in his eyes and it took me a moment to recognise what it was—a challenge. The temptation to push and see what he would do made my hands clammy, but caution prickled my scalp and I lost my nerve. Without much thought, I snatched up the menu on the top of the pile.

  I caught a glimpse of writing across the front and an Italian flag in the corner. “Pizza!” I announced, with a wave of the menu.

  Thank God the menu didn’t have fries or baked potatoes on the front like a couple of the others farther down the pile.

  Ryan, still standing, plucked the menu from my fingers and passed it straight to Thom without taking his gaze from me.

  I expected him to return to his seat, but my eyes widened in surprise when he moved around the table towards me. His hand wrapped around my ponytail and guided my head back. He met my startled gaze, but didn’t allow it to deter him and leaned in. “I think Thom had other things in mind for this evening’s entertainment.” Then, taking me entirely by surprise, his lips covered mine, and he took full advantage of my gasp, pushing his tongue into my mouth.

  I couldn’t have protested even if I wanted to. My body responded immediately, still humming after having been coaxed into arousal earlier, before the moment was interrupted. But as soon as I relaxed into the kiss, and met his tongue with mine, he pulled away. Chest heaving, my brain scrambled to make sense of what the hell just happened. When I glanced at Thom, who was casually reading the menu Ryan had handed him moments before, my face heated.

  Ryan, having accomplished whatever it was he set out to do, took his original seat across the table and had the gall to wink at me.

  “I think we should discuss toppings,” Thom continued, as though nothing had happened.

  Way out of my depth, I stammered, “I-I left my wine upstairs.” I slid from my seat and all but ran out of the room.

  “Don’t take too long. Ryan has to pick this up,” Thom called after me, with no small amount of amusement in his tone, then he laughed out loud when Ryan muttered something.

  I didn’t hang around to hear what was said between them. I desperately needed to wash my face to cool my cheeks and pull myself together.

  Coming home may have been a mistake.

  6

  Lyla

  I avoided them.

  Not because I didn’t want to spend any time with them—if I were being honest, I greatly enjoyed their company—but because Ryan kissing me the way he had left me unsure how to proceed, and a very rare event was sprung on me early Saturday morning. My period.

  I’d learned over the years that my periods were never to be expected. Having been diagnosed with severe polycystic ovary syndrome, my body didn’t know what a cycle was despite the constant prescriptions of drugs to try and force one. When they did finally arrive, they were relatively light, easy to manage, and thankfully only lasted a few hours at most.

  I was almost certain Thom and Ryan were an item, meaning Ryan kissing me was entirely inappropriate. Not to mention the way he kissed me. I’d never been kissed that way in my life—it was like something from a movie. And while, on reflection, I liked the way it made me feel, if he and Thom were together then I couldn’t, in all good co
nscience, be party to whatever stunt Ryan was pulling.

  I went to bed immediately after dinner on Friday and planned to be out from eight to eight on Saturday. I’d only just met them, but I was already missing having someone to talk to.

  Still, I got up and left the house before either of them stirred.

  The first item on my itinerary was a walk in the local park. By the time I’d driven there, it was almost nine, and when I’d got my fill of the fresh morning air and arrived back to my car, it was after ten. I then proceeded to drive to the nearest shopping centre, and had just parked in the only available space when my phone pinged.

  Not a call this time, but a text message. I relaxed. Francis never sent text messages. At least, not to me, preferring to speak ‘properly.’ My understanding was he wanted proof of my whereabouts and could glean quite a lot from listening to background noise.

  I knew he was using a ‘find my device’ app to track where my phone was, he’d paid someone to install it just after I began meeting Betty for lunch dates. I could’ve fought him on it, but I liked my time with Betty, and I wasn’t about to jeopardise it over him being a controlling ass.

  And she was who I expected the message to be from.

  A glance at the screen confirmed my suspicion.

  Betty: Are you still with us?

  No hi, how are you? She came straight in with a lowbrow question.

  Betty was the closest thing I had to a friend. We’d met four years earlier when I was in the middle of a round of IVF treatments and had agreed to join one of Francis’s co-workers’ wives for afternoon tea. I was instantly out of my comfort zone and found myself sitting quietly on the edge of the group of trophy wives as I tried to listen to their conversations with Betty seated beside me.

  Elspeth Lillienne DeGraff—better known as Betty—was the only daughter of a controversial member of parliament. A self-described Sloanie, she’d spent most of the 90s partying with A-listers and their entitled offspring before settling down in 2010.