Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 39867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
“You going to tell me your plan?”
“You talking to me now?”
“We’ll see, I g-guess.”
I can see Dom relax a little. He gives me a little bit of a smile.
“Let’s go in the clubhouse and grab a beer,” he suggests, and I find myself following him.
Bitterness wells up deep inside of me. There’s a huge part of me that’s pretty sure I don’t want to know what Gabby has planned. I need to be aware of it, however. I won’t allow her to play me for a fool any longer—her or my brother. I’m done with that shit.
Chapter 23
Thomas
“You’re quiet tonight, Thomas,” Lyla says softly, her words thoughtful. Her head is in my lap, and when I look down, she’s staring up at me. We’re streaming some stupid chick flick on the television. I have no idea what it is, but then, I’ve been tuning it out anyway.
After the talk with Dom, I felt like shit. I just needed to get away. He wants to meet up Friday night and trap Gabby so that she sees both of us know about her lies and won’t buy any more of them. I can see his plan—to a point. The thing is, I’ve already trapped her and made her see that I was done. I exposed her to my brother, and to me, that’s enough. Dom may not want to admit it, but really, he just wants to continue torturing himself and Gabby. I understand it, but I’m done. If my brother has any sense, he’ll kick her ass to the curb so hard her ass will bounce on the concrete.
“Quiet every n-night, Sunflower,” I murmur, taking another drag off my beer. I’m on number five of a six pack. The way I’m feeling, I may not stop for a long time.
“Not like this, Thomas, and we both know it. Are you okay?” she asks, her face full of concern. She curls her hand against the side of my face. Her big blue eyes so innocent. She may look like Gabby, but they are nothing alike—not where it counts. There’s nothing calculating about Lyla.
“Dealing with shit,” I answer. For some reason, I find my fingers combing through her hair. The blonde locks curling around my fingers feel like silk.
She shifts, lifting her upper body. Instantly, I miss the feel of her resting in my lap. She sits up, bringing her face closer to mine. “Can I do anything to help?”
The concern on her face is genuine. It’s not mixed with pity either. If anything, it’s laced with emotion. She cares about me. I can see it clearly written all over her face.
She shouldn’t.
What would she think about me if she knew that I’m using her as a crutch? That the fact she is attracted to me, wants to be with me, is like a salve to what little male pride I have left? I’m drawn to her, too. I mean, I’m only a man, and Lyla is beautiful and fun to be around. When I look at her, though, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see her resemblance to Gabby. I’m a selfish bastard. I know it, but I like seeing the look of need and care on Lyla’s face and imagining it’s Gabby that feels like that.
How fucked up is that?
I don’t think that it’s even Gabby I want now. I wouldn’t touch her after what happened. It would feel damn good, however, to have her want me and give me the chance to tell her to go fuck herself. That’s not going to happen, though. Today’s talk with Dom made it clear that Gabby will use me to get whatever she wants. What my brother doesn’t realize is that she’ll use him, too.
“Thomas?”
“It’s nothing,” I tell her, reaching over and grabbing another beer off the coffee table. For some reason, my other one is empty way too soon.
“You’re opening your seventh beer. You rarely drink one a night when we’re together. If I can help you, I want to. I’m worried about you.”
“You shouldn’t,” I chastise her.
“Want to help you?” she asks, her brow crinkling with confusion. “Why wouldn’t I want to help you?”
“You’re a g-good friend, Sunflower,” I tell her, feeling this sadness inside of me that I can’t even begin to explain. She’s right. I am drinking more than I should. What she doesn’t know is that I had some Jack even before she got here. I’m fast approaching the point where I am hammered, and I don’t even give a fuck.
“Is that all I am, Thomas?”
“Lyla,” I moan when I see the hurt that moves over her features.
“Are we just friends?” she asks.
“Tha-that’s all we’ve b-been,” I tell her honestly.
“I know, but don’t you wonder what it would be like if we were more?” she asks. It’s clear she’s nervous. Her eyes are crystal blue, her teeth shine white, as she bites down on her lip. I don’t know why I notice that, but I do, and despite everything I’ve had to drink, I feel my cock hardening. That should be harder to achieve than it is, since I was drinking even before I started on the beer. Lyla might have smelled it on my breath, but she is kind of innocent. I doubt she has any idea. Getting this turned on is a complication and unexpected. I mean, Lyla is hot, and I’ve been aroused around her before. I’ve been very careful not to cross too many lines. My head is too messed up. I’m adult enough to admit that taking that step with Lyla is wrong. Hell, I can’t even say for sure if I’m turned on because of Lyla or if it’s because she looks like Gabby. Giving in and fucking her like I want wouldn’t be fair.