Page 23 of Second Draft

But right now the last thing I want to think about is leaving.

Travis isn’t answering his cell. Knowing him, he probably trashed the damn thing so I wouldn’t have a way of tracking him down and beating the shit out of him.

Unlike Layla, I didn’t get a note, just a voicemail telling me he was sorry and not to look for him. Of all the asshole things Travis has done, this has to be the worst.

The soft padding of footsteps travels down the hall, and I hear Layla open the door to her room, then shut it.

Fuck if I know what I’m going to do about her.

There’s no way in hell I’m letting her leave. I was serious when I told her this is her home now. My name might be on the mortgage, but I’d always intended on giving it to Travis once he got his shit together. But that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen. At least not in the foreseeable future.

It’s only right that the house goes to his kid, or to the mother of his kid.

The thought of just giving it to her, signing the papers in her name, crossed my mind. It would be the cleanest solution. Layla and the child would be taken care of.

But then what?

I’d go back to New York. Travel. Work. Maybe come visit once or twice a year – if she let me.

The thought twists my stomach.

My parents would be rolling over in their graves right now if they could see what’s become of Travis…of me...of our once happy, normal family.

Family was everything to them. They poured their hearts and souls into making sure we knew we were loved, that we belonged. Sometimes I think Travis forgets all of that. That his memories are twisted and distorted because of his pain.

Layla’s door creaks open again, and I can hear her tiptoeing down the hall towards the bathroom, the sound of the shower turning on.

I groan at the thought of her naked only a room away.

Remembering the heat in her soft brown eyes when I’d kissed her in the bar, and again when she’d seen me for the first time the other night.

The connection is still there – maybe stronger than before.

But this whole situation is one big clusterfuck.

I should let my lawyers handle it. Go back to New York and not look back. That would be the smart thing to do.

Who is she to me anyways? The only thing that connects us is an unforgettable kiss and a child that isn’t even mine.

But damn if I wished it was. I drag my fingers through my hair, not knowing where the thought came from.

Sure, the woman is gorgeous, and there’s no denying the chemistry between us. That there’s something about her that makes me want to protect her.

But she’s pregnant with my brother’s baby.

Getting involved, more than just financially, wouldn’t just be stupid, it would be emotional suicide.

And I just finally stepped back from the edge of darkness. The last thing I need in my life is more bullshit.

Layla. Me. It can’t work.

And yet, even as I think it, I know I’ve already made up my mind. The moment I knew Travis was gone, I’d made my decision.

I’m not going to walk away.

The inner caveman inside of me claimed her months ago – the first time I saw her, the first time I tasted her.

My cock hardens at the memory, my body pulsing with the need to fill her. Seeing those big, innocent eyes watching me as I fulfill all my dark, wicked fantasies. I’ve never wanted to lose myself to a woman as much as I do Layla.

---