Page 24 of Second Draft

Sick as it is, that’s my reality.

But she’s going to need time.

The last thing I want is to scare her. And from the way she tiptoes around me, trying not to meet my gaze, I know that wouldn’t be difficult to do.

I’m not normally a patient man, but I know I’m going to have to be with her.

Despite my better judgement telling me to run in the opposite direction, I know exactly what I have to do to make her mine. I’m a man who would go to any lengths to get what he wants. And I’ve never wanted anything more than I want her.

Chapter 8

Layla

I stare at the blank screen in front of me like I’ve done for the past twenty minutes. But the harder I try to think about a story to write, the more my brain becomes a fuzz of static.

Nothing.

Frustrated, I slam the laptop cover down and push my chair back.

It’s pointless. I can’t write.

I grab a paperback off the shelf, and lay down on my bed. But a few pages in, I’m ready to toss it across the room, because I’m so sick and tired of reading about other people’s love stories. For once in my life, I want my own.

My stomach grumbles, and I glance at the electric clock by my bed.

It’s almost midnight, but I can’t sleep.

I’m restless and not just because of the whole Travis leaving shenanigans, but because I’m constantly aware of the sexy, tattooed, bad boy that’s currently living under my roof.

Ratherhisroof.

Travis hadn’t told me that his brother owned the house. But it makes sense, considering Travis can’t seem to hold a job, let alone pay a mortgage.

I roll out of bed, and slowly open my bedroom door, peeking out like I’m ten years old again, expecting to get reprimanded for being out of bed past my bedtime.

All the lights are off. Even the one under Carter’s door.

As silently as I can, I tiptoe down the stairs towards the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out the carton of chocolate milk.

I’m in the middle of pouring a glass when the lights flick on.

With my already frayed nerves, I startle, and both the glass and the carton drop from my hands, bouncing off the kitchen counter, spewing milk everywhere, before landing on the floor, the glass shattering in a hundred little pieces by my feet.

“Shit.” Carter curses, rushing towards me, then demanding, “Don’t move.”

I hear him, but it’s as if my feet have minds of their own, and I quickly take a step back, then yelp when a piece of glass slices into my heel.

“Damn it. I told you not to move.” With the agility of a trained boxer, he maneuvers through the broken glass and chocolate milk, and I don’t know what he’s doing until his hands are on my waist lifting me up, then plopping me down on the counter. He points a finger at me, “Stay.”

I swallow hard and nod, now rendered speechless because I finally take in his appearance.

Wearing only a pair of navy pajama bottoms that hang low on his hips, his muscular chest is bare, exposing all the glorious patterns I haven’t seen before.

He’s even more ripped than I’d imagined. While Travis was toned and on the thinner side, Carter is all rippling muscle.

As he sweeps up the glass, he glances up at me, and catches me staring, and his blue eyes go dark.

I want to look away, but I can’t. It’s like he’s got some superpower to control my body. Infusing it with heat with a single glance. I shift my position on the counter, feeling all that heat go straight between my legs.

---