Page 36 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

He moves like he hasn't just turned my world upside down.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Or what’s wrong with me that makes me that easy to discard?

"Okay," is all I manage to say, voice small in the too-quiet room.

I sit up, feeling exposed and suddenly vulnerable under the weight of his indifference. It's like he's flipped a switch, and now I'm just an employee again—or worse, I might soon be nothing at all.

He glances at me then, a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance? Regret? —before he turns away and heads for the bathroom. The door shuts with a click that sounds final, and I'm left staring at the wood grain, wondering if I've lost more than just my clothes in this room.

In the silence, I cling to the sheets, still warm from our bodies. The air is heavy with the scent of sex, a stark contrast to the cold practicality of his movements. I draw in a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my chest where my heart thuds wildly.

I hear the shower start, the sound a harsh reminder that life goes on—that Liam goes on—and I'm just a complication he's washing away. I should feel dirty, used, but all I can feel is this aching desire for more.

"Stupid," I whisper to myself, dragging a hand through my hair. But even as I berate myself, another part of me longs to knock on that bathroom door, to step into the steam and pretend, just for a little while longer, that this is real.

That I am real to him.

The sound of the running water stops, jerking me out of my reverie. It's time to face reality—whatever that is now.

As Liam steps out and starts to gather his things without so much as a second glance at me, I force myself off the bed and into the bathroom. The mirror reflects a girl who looks like she's been thoroughly loved and left bewildered by it.

I don't recognize her.

I step into the shower, letting the hot streams cascade over me. My skin is marked by our night together; a hickey stands out on my breast, another near my collarbone. Evidence of his desire—or just lust? I touch them gently, a mix of pride and confusion swirling inside me.

"It didn’t mean anything," I chide myself, even though that's the last thing I want to hear right now.

When I finally turn off the water and step out, wrapping a towel around me, I feel steadier. But the reflection in the mirror hasn't changed. She's still someone caught between two worlds—the normalcy of her everyday life and this secret chaos she's stumbled into with Liam.

Dressed once again in my business casual garb from yesterday and somewhat composed, I open the door to find him buttoning his shirt with swift, sure movements. His suit jacket is draped over a chair, and he's packing my gas station t-shirt and sweats into his sleek overnight bag as if we're just returning from a business trip—that's all it was, wasn't it?

"Hey," I say, but my voice comes out softer than I intend.

He doesn't look up. "Morning."

There's a cold efficiency to his manner that sends a shiver through me. We might as well be strangers passing by in a hallway. But we're not. We can't be, not after last night. Not after everything.

"Are you—" I start, but what am I asking? Are you okay with this? Are we okay? What happens now?

"Ready to go soon?" he finishes for me, not waiting for my actual question. "We should beat the traffic."

"Right." I nod, even though there's a tightness in my chest that makes it hard to breathe. I'm nothing but an inconvenience to his schedule now.

I watch him move around the room, gathering the last of our things. There's no mention of last night, no acknowledgment of the heat that burned between us. And it hurts—more than I expected it to. Because despite the shame, despite the potential consequences, a part of me—maybe a big part—still wants him.

Wants this.

"Shiloh?" Liam pauses, glancing at me, maybe sensing my inner turmoil. "You good?"

"Yeah," I lie, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "I'm good."

But I'm not.

Not even close.

Chapter fifteen

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