Unraveled, page 7
As Layla looks up at me, her shoulders shake. I inhale to steady my nerves before I knock someone else out. “Can I go over and check on Layla?”
“Sure.” Officer Roberts cuffs me on the back of the shoulder. “You’re her hero. I’m sure she’ll want to thank you.”
Fuck. If I were a hero, I wouldn’t have left her alone at the bar in the first place. Way to go, asshole.
I’ve heard enough of her responses to the officer’s questions to know the guy is a total freak, and she’s damn lucky he’s going to jail. I crack my knuckles. Make that – he’s damn fortunate because if I catch him alone again, he’s going to be a eunuch.
“I’ll call Grant to take you home.” Officer Carmelo snaps her notebook closed and tucks her pen into the breast pocket of her uniform shirt.
I’ve never met Grant, but I know Grady has two brothers, Grant and Grayson. And if I remember right, Grant works for the police department.
“No.” Layla’s eyes widen as she grabs the officer’s hand.
What the fuck? My heart skips a beat. She’s going to get arrested for assault on an officer.
“Now, Layla.” The officer shakes her head. “You’ve had too much to drink. You can’t drive home.”
“I know, but not Grant. I’ve got a raging headache, and I want to go to bed. If Grant comes, Grady and Grayson will show up, and I won’t get to bed until morning.” She stands and hugs Officer Carmelo. “Gracie, I promise I’ll talk to them in the morning.”
Riiight. I forgot we weren’t in the city. Of course, the officers all know her. I roll back on my heels.
“Fine,” Officer Carmelo sighs and pats her back. “But I can’t let you drive.”
“I’ll take her home.” I shove my hands into my pockets before I find myself in the middle of a hug fest.
She cocks an eyebrow to her bangs and scans up and down my body. “Have you been drinking?”
“One beer.” I glance at my wristwatch. “About three hours ago.”
“Okay.” She shifts her attention to Layla. “Is that fine with you?”
“Yes.” She nods vehemently and turns to me. Her eyes are filled with hero-worship or some crap like that, or the streetlight is making her eyes glisten. It’s hard to tell from this angle.
As soon as the officer leaves, Layla jumps up and wraps her arms around my neck. “Thank you.”
Yeah, hero worship. Undeserved hero worship. I stand stiffly, afraid to do anything. These are the huggiest group of people I’ve ever seen. She’s not letting go, and I look like a dumbass. I wrap my arms around her and close my eyes.
The vision of her climbing out of the window right into the asshole’s path is burned into my retinas. I ran as fast as I could, but since I was a good one hundred yards away, I didn’t make it before his fucking hands touched her.
I inhale the scent of her shampoo and cigarette smoke from the bar. I want to drag her to my place and encase her in bubble wrap, so she stops getting into harm’s way. My fingers dig into her back. “You’re taking years off my life.”
She giggles softly against my chest and then sobs. Another chink in my well-constructed armor shatters, causing me to hold her tighter. Her tears coat my t-shirt, leaving it clinging to my skin.
I don’t want to ever let her go, which is precisely why I must. I clear my throat, loosen my embrace, and step back. “I’ll drive you home.”
“Thanks.” She follows me to my pickup.
When we get there, I click the lock open and help her inside. Once she’s safely fastened in, I sprint to the other side as if hell’s hounds are after me. I’ll never get over this night.
I hop inside and twist on the ignition. “Music?”
She shakes her head. “Silence.”
“Okay.”
She closes her eyes and rests her head against the headrest. “Kameron?”
“Yes?” I swallow.
Her eyes slowly open but remain partially covered. “Thank you for rescuing me. George is a nasty person.” Her bottom lip quivers. “I can’t believe he almost raped me.”
“I’m so sorry, darlin’.” I grab her hand. “Is there anything you need me to do? Someone I should call?” Hell, does she have a boyfriend? I didn’t even think to ask.
I’ve been so busy pretending I don’t care about her. But I do. Too much. Too much to leave us both unscathed. One of us is going to be destroyed, and it’s likely to be me if she belongs to someone else.
Stop. You can’t go there. You’re leaving before winter. Don’t destroy both of you.
“No. I’ll get with everyone tomorrow. I want to go home and forget.”
Chapter Seventeen
Layla
When the fluid motion of the vehicle jerks to a stop, I lurch forward, and my eyes snap open. Where am I? I repeatedly blink until my focus returns. Home? How did I get here?
I twist to survey the driver’s seat, and everything collides in my brain at once. Kameron. George. The bar. Outside the bar. The police. I shudder forcefully and take a deep breath.
Kameron shuts off the engine and studies me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I was disoriented for a second. Thank you again for bringing me home. My cousins would have been all up in my business, and I don’t want to rehash the whole thing again tonight.”
“I understand.”
I glance at his dashboard, but the clock display went off when he shut down the vehicle. “What time is it?”
Kameron lifts his arm to scrutinize his wristwatch. “Five minutes after two.”
“No wonder I feel like I’ve been run over by a Mack Truck.” I rub my forehead. “I don’t usually drink or fall out of windows.”
He smiles briefly and then glances down at the console between us. “I’m sorry I left. If I would have stuck around, this wouldn’t have happened.”
I place my hand on his forearm, and the coarse hairs brush against my fingertips. “That has nothing to do with it. George is a sick man. If it weren’t tonight, it would have been another night. At least this time, you were there. Another time, I might have been alone.” I shut down all thoughts of what could have happened. Nothing happened. I’m fine. And now, he’s in jail. Where he belongs.
“I still need to say, ‘I’m sorry.’”
“I accept your apology. Now, don’t bring it up again.” My fingers burn against his heat. I want to throw myself in his arms and forget everything, but I’ve already had a craptastic night. I don’t want to add his second rejection to the list. I remove my hand from him and place it in my lap.
“Thank you.”
“I’m going in and passing out. I’m so exhausted.” I yawn and grab the door handle.
“Do you need help getting inside?” The deep rumble of his voice skates down my spine, causing my heart to beat erratically.
His eyes are shadowed, but I catch the sharp intake of his breath. Fuck. My mouth is so dry. I lick my lips. Neither of us moves as the muscles in his jaw twitch. The urge to invite him in is so strong, I can barely deny it, but he’s leaving town soon, and I’m going to fall harder for him than I already have.
I’ve been saving myself for the man I want to marry, and Kameron doesn’t believe in happily ever afters. “I should be okay.” The words hurt to say, but I’ve got to protect myself from getting hurt.
He leans back and nods. A flash of what could be confused with hurt moves across his face before his emotions disappear.
I yank the door open and hop down to the ground. Ouch. “Shit.” Pain shoots out of my ankle and up to my thigh.
“What is it?” His voice is full of panic as he snaps open the door and exits the vehicle.
“My ankle.” Tears spring to my eyes, but I hold them at bay. I can’t afford another waterworks display. He’s going to think all I do is cry.
He rounds the front of the pickup and lifts me into his arms the same way he did at the station. “I’ll get you inside and take a look. You must have re-injured it falling out of the window.”
“It hurt on impact, but it didn’t on the way to the pickup when we left.” I wrap my arms around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder. I’m so fucking tired.
I bounce lightly against him as he carries me up the front steps. “It must have swollen while you were sleeping.”
I stiffen. “Did I snore?”
“Maybe a little. It was cute.”
“Fuck my life,” I groan, dig my hand into my front pocket, and hand him my keys.
“I’m serious.” He chuckles. “It was adorable.”
I slam my face against the crook of his neck and wait for him to open the door. He smells like musk and spice. I sniff again. He stops. Shit. He noticed I was sniffing him. Lord, save me from my endless embarrassing actions.
The door shuts behind him, and my heart thunders against my ribs. The light on my end table is the only illumination in the room. The tension in my body flows to his, and I can’t hear anything but my pulse beating in my ears.
When I finally get the balls to look up at him, his eyes glow under the lamplight. The flash of awareness in his eyes at the bar is replaced by a raging volcano. Holy hell. His mouth is inches from mine, and I can sense his badly contained control as it radiates through his muscles.
My nipples tent against my bra, and I whimper.
“Fuck, Layla. Don’t do that. I’m trying to be good here.”
“Don’t.” I shake my head and place my lips against his.
“Shit,” he mumbles against my mouth and swipes his tongue into my depths. A kaleidoscope of colors flashes against my eyelids as I drag my fingertips through his hair. The sensation of the strands of hair against my fingers has my blood boiling.
He slowly lowers my legs toward the ground, but instead of following his lead, my body has a mind of its own. I wrap my legs around his waist and groan into his mouth.
My head spins as I exhale. He sucks my need down like he’s dying of thirst, claps my ass, turns, and presses me against the wall. The sensation of the hard wall on one side of me and his muscular body on the other is erotic as fuck. I thrust my tongue against his and grind my pelvis against his erection.
No one’s ever kissed me like he does. I ache to strip myself bare and let him explore every inch of my flesh. I’ve never been with a man who made me lose control. Our mouths and tongues dance against each other as if we can’t get enough. And that’s the truth for me.
As his rigid cock presses against my clit, I wiggle closer. God, it feels good. My swollen lips are slick with my juices as if my body has already decided he’s the one. I place my hands on his face, and the stubble from his five o’clock shadow pricks my fingers.
“God, you taste so sweet,” he murmurs against my mouth, and then, he slides his lips along my jawline until he connects with the sensitive spot between my jaw and throat.
“Kameron?” My breath comes out in a giant heave as I try to suck it back into my lungs. I want him to be the one who takes my virginity. Maybe it would only be once, but it would be out of this world. If this is what I’ve been missing, I was a fool to wait.
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“What?” He bites my flesh, and I quiver forcefully.
“I…”
“Yes,” he growls as his hand slides under my shirt and across my stomach. When he reaches my bra, my eyes fill with so much heat, I can’t make out the sofa from where we’re standing.
“Make love to me.” When his hand cups my breast, I gasp.
“I thought you’d never ask.” He takes one step toward the center of the room when loud footsteps clop across my front porch.
“Layla!”
“Fuck,” I groan and drop my head to Kameron’s chest.
His entire body stiffens. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Yes. It’s Grady.”
“Fuck.” He drops me to the ground.
When I wince, his face flames. “Sorry. Listen, I should go.” He swallows and looks like a guppy out of water. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
My eyes narrow into slits.
“It was…”
“I get it. It was a mistake.” I straighten my shoulders and yank the doorknob. “It never happened.” I swing the door open and plaster a smile on my face. There’s no way it reaches my eyes. “Grady, come on in.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” He stomps through the threshold, and eyes Kameron up and down. “You should have called me.”
“Ignore him. He has nothing to do with this. He’s the equivalent of an Uber driver. Pretend he’s not here.” I run a tongue over my top teeth make a smacking sound as I dismiss him. Asshole.
Chapter Eighteen
Kameron
So, this is what it feels like to be on the wrong side of Little Ms. Sunshine. I’m surprised she didn’t wave her hand in the air and say, ‘Bye. Bye, Felicia.’
Grady studies her. “I heard he saved you from George Butler.”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “He did.”
“Don’t you think you should be a little more thankful.”
Her chin tips out, and my heart slams into my throat. Is she going to rat me out? Wonderful. Grady’s going to kick my ass. The muscles in my back tighten in anticipation of a gut punch. George punches like a pussy. There’s no way Grady does.
“I’ve thanked him enough.”
“Fine. As long as you’ve thanked him.” He shakes his head and grabs Layla by the upper arms. “You could have gotten hurt. What were you doing climbing out the window in the first place?”
“To get away from him,” she sighs. “He cornered me at the bar after Kameron left.”
His eyebrows arch together. “Kameron, left?”
“Yes, I was talking to Kameron, and he got up and left.”
“Were you drinking?”
“Yes.”
Grady drops my arms and spins around. “You left her alone at the bar drunk?”
“Hey, I didn’t say I was drunk.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Don’t you dare make this about anyone but George. He’s a total fucking creep. It wasn’t because I was drinking, and it wasn’t because Kameron’s a pussy.”
“What?” Grady jerks backward and his eyes shift between the two of us.
Fuck. She went there. She smirks as I squirm. Grady thinks of Layla’s like his little sister. His pure, sweet sister. The one who’s never been tainted by the bad boy. And she knows it. She’s intentionally trying to get my ass kicked.
I should be pissed, but I deserve it. I promised I’d stay away from her, and what did I do? The first time we were alone, I ravished her.
She deserves someone better than me. What do I have to give? My mom – she left. My dad’s second marriage lasted two months, and she skipped too.
Grandy’s hands ball into fists as if he’s finally reading the room’s tension and is ready to explode. “What’s going on?”
“He wouldn’t play me in a game of pool.”
“Pool?” Grady glowers. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I suck at pool.” I can’t believe she saved my ass. Grady wouldn’t want someone like me sniffing around Layla.
“Whatever.” Grady rolls his eyes. “You two play your games but Layla’s a classy woman. You ‘hit it and quit it,’ and I’ll kick your ass. Along with my two brothers. Do you understand?”
“It’s not like that.” I raise my hands in defense. “We…It’s not like that.”
“Nothing’s going on.” Layla grabs Grady’s arm and leads him to the sofa. Her limp is more pronounced as she walks. “Kameron was kind enough to drive me home, and now, he’s leaving.
“You need to sit down and rest your ankle.” I glance toward the kitchen. “Where’s a towel I can use? You should ice it before it swells too much.”
She falls into the cushions and tosses her sore foot on the coffee table. “I thought you were leaving.”
“Not before you’re taken care of. Now, where’s a dish towel?”
“In the first drawer by the sink. There’s ice in the dispenser.” She closes her eyes and places her hand on her forehead. Her face is etched with exhaustion.
What’s wrong with me? I tried to fuck her brains out after she was almost raped, dealing with a hangover, and is clearly not feeling well. Classy move, asshole.
I growl as I move through her kitchen. Grady and Layla’s voices are low and muted as I gather the supplies to address her re-injured ankle.
When I return to the room with a homemade icepack, Grady stands and shoves his hand out. “Thank you, man. If you hadn’t been there, it would have been an entirely different situation.”
I grasp his hand in mine as a shudder quakes through my body. I’ve felt the sensation of someone walking over my grave before, but this time is the most intense. I would have never been able to live with myself if Layla was raped. “Thank God, I was there.”
His face is somber as he releases my hand. “Layla, you’re not off the hook. Grady and Grayson will want all the details as well.”
“Not tonight.” She yawns and snuggles deeper into the cushions.
“I’ll tell them to leave you be until tomorrow.” He nods at me. “I’m going to get out of here. Get some rest.”
“Okay.” Her voice is muffled with sleep as if she’s struggling to stay awake.
When the door snaps shut, I sit on the coffee table by her foot. “Let me take off your shoe.”
“Whatever,” she mumbles. “Get it over with and leave. I want to be alone.”
“Damn it, Layla. You shouldn’t be alone.” I work her shoe off and study the swelling. The blue and purple bruise over her ankle is splotchy, where it’s healing. When I push on her flesh, there’s a slight resistance as the swelling returns. “I’ll stay here tonight.”
“No. You won’t.” Her eyes pop open, and she yanks the make-shift ice pack out of my hand. “You made your intentions clear.” She plops the towel on her ankle. The sadness and anger in her eyes cut me to the core.
“Layla.” It rips at my heart to see her hurting and it’s my fault. All of it – from leaving her at the bar, to George accosting her, to shoving her away when her cousin came.
