Page 42 of Second Draft

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. Andwantingis 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 isthe 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 himSaint 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 isI’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.

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