Fighting for What's His

by Laura Kaye

  Er, right.

  So then, should she instead act casual, say good night, and go back to her own room? Probably. She inhaled to attempt the latter when his gaze cut to her and he extended his arm.

  “C’mere.”

  Shayna’s heart did a little flip inside her chest. Because snuggling with him hadn’t been within any of the neighboring realms of possibilities in her mind. But she wasn’t questioning it, either.

  She moved into the nook along his body—head on his good shoulder, knee on his thigh, hand on his chest. And then he wrapped his arm tight around her shoulders and pulled her in that much closer. The sigh he released was one of pure satisfaction, and it made her smile.

  He was warm and strong and being so sweet, and he held her there for long enough that her eyelids grew heavy. His breathing calmed and slowed, lulling her closer to sleep. Close enough that, when she heard his voice, she was sure she’d dreamed it.

  Or, perhaps, “nightmared” it, given what her mind had conjured him saying.

  Can we return to our earlier conversation?

  Nice try, subconscious.

  “Shay?” his voice came—again, apparently—at little more than a whisper. “Did you hear me?” His chin turned into her head as if he were peering down at her.

  Her heart played a sudden thundering beat in her chest. Not dreaming after all. “What?” she asked, hoping maybe he’d think he’d awakened her and let it go. Because she didn’t want to return to their conversation.

  That was not the more she was game for.

  His fingers drew a lazy circle on her ribs. “Can we return to what we were talking about this morning? In the car.”

  No. Nonono.

  She didn’t want to talk to him about why she felt guilty. Not after what they’d just done. Not after he’d managed to see her as a desirable woman and not just her brother’s kid sister. And not when part of her hoped he could someday see her as even more than that.

  This morning, she’d been impulsive and stupid, as if his words and demeanor had worked a spell on her. One that made her open up when she normally wouldn’t. Even if that had been true, that spell was broken and her sense of self-preservation was back. In spades.

  “I…” Swallowing hard, her mind raced for how to say no in a way that wasn’t just a flat refusal. “Now?”

  “Why not?”

  “I, uh, don’t know. Pretty tired.” Could you be anymore lame, Shay?

  Those circles continued against her side. “It’s important,” he whispered.

  “Billy—”

  “Tell me, Shayna.” His voice was quiet, but there was an intensity there.

  She didn’t make him specify what he wanted to know, because his earlier question still rang in her head. “What do you have” …to feel guilty about?

  “I…I don’t…not now.”

  “Why?” he asked, rolling them so that she was on her back, her head cradled by his arm. His dark eyes searched hers.

  She felt…so freaking exposed.

  It wasn’t voicing the words that scared her, it was the consequences that followed. The horror and the disappointment and the accusation she’d see on his expression and in his eyes. How the way he looked at her would change. How what he learned would quash the potential of whatever this was between them before it had really even begun.

  Shayna knew these were the consequences of telling her secret because she’d seen them all before. And not just in her parents’ understandably darker moments. But from Dylan’s fiancé, Abby. Who’d been one of Shayna’s closest friends. Almost a sister, even.

  But no more.

  I hate you! You killed him and you ruined my whole life! Why couldn’t it have been you?

  Like Shay hadn’t had the same damn thought.

  Still, it had nearly killed her to hear those words from someone she’d loved after Shay had lost someone else she’d loved, and all while trying to hide just how much pain her broken arm, collar bone, and ankle caused her so her parents had one less thing to worry about.

  From his visits to and stays at their house, Billy had known Dylan. And because Dylan was older than her and a guy, he’d hung out with Ryan and Billy during those stays. So Billy had a reason to care about what Shayna had done because he’d known the person she’d done it to.

  A knot suddenly lodged in her throat, so big she could barely manage a swallow. What Shayna feared wasn’t hypothetical. It wasn’t irrational. And it wasn’t going to be any part of her fresh start.

  She gently pressed her hand against Billy’s chest as she pushed out from underneath of him. Shivering from a sudden rush of nervous adrenaline, she scrambled off the bed, her gaze scanning the floor.

  “Where’s my shirt…” And then she remembered. It was downstairs where Billy dropped it. She picked up his instead.

  He moved to sit on the mattress’s edge, seemingly perfectly comfortable with the fact that he was still naked—a sight that, in her rising panic, she couldn’t fully appreciate.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m tired.” She punched her arms through the sleeves and yanked on his tee. It was miles too big and that was good—she felt way too exposed with so much skin showing. Heat filled her face as she grabbed up her jeans and undies.

  “You’re running.”

  A tendril of anger flickered inside her. “Wow. Okay,” she said. Even though he was right.

  She forced herself to face him again before she left, and tension absolutely ricocheted between them and within her.

  He nailed her with a fierce stare, one she wished she was seeing through her viewfinder. Could she capture the disappointed glint in his dark eyes? “Why…” His lips pressed into a tight line like he’d reconsidered his question, but then he shook his head and started again, his voice gentler. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

  Because I might vomit. “I just can’t.” She searched those eyes and willed him to understand. “I’m sorry.”

  He frowned. “Me, too.” Was there a coldness to his words or was she imagining it?

  Shayna didn’t know. If there was, it was just one more burden she’d have to carry—and another of her own making.

  Just like losing Dylan.

  A long moment of tortured silence followed. She didn’t know what else to say, and Billy certainly wasn’t making any effort to make this easier for her. Not that he owed her anything. Which just left her with turning away and walking out of his room.

  Her mind momentarily debated collecting her clothing from downstairs, but she couldn’t take the chance that he’d follow her down and question her again.

  Unlike Billy and her brother, Shayna wasn’t brave. Which was a really freaking sucky thing to realize about yourself.

  Instead, she went straight for the bathroom to get ready for bed, and then she dashed for her room and closed herself in.

  And when she couldn’t fall asleep, she pulled out her laptop and started searching for an apartment of her own.

  Shayna was the first one to emerge from her room on Sunday morning, proving that she was far braver than Billy.

  A little after nine, he heard the shower in the hall bath come on, and a short while after that, her footsteps moved past his room and descended the stairs.

  He’d been awake for two hours mindlessly scrolling through the happy happy, joy joy of other people’s perfect online lives when he finally threw off the covers and made for the bathroom, his back on fucking fire from the way he’d tossed and turned all night.

  But that was what being a total asshole did to his sleep, apparently. He never should’ve—

  Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, he chuffed out a laugh of disgust. At himself. Because the list of things he never should’ve was about a mile and a fuck long.

  He never should’ve touched Shayna again.

  He never should’ve given in to the desire he’d had for her pretty much since the minute she’d dropped that fucking towel. And it wasn’t just that he’d
seen her naked. He wasn’t a complete animal, after all. It was that in the wake of that moment she’d been brave and funny and self-deprecating and easy going and it had obviously really fucking charmed him. Like a goddamn spell.

  He never should’ve gotten her naked again because what little willpower he possessed where this woman was concerned had no chance whatsoever when confronted with the bare curves and hidden secrets of her gorgeous body.

  He never should’ve put his mouth on her, because now she was even deeper inside him than she’d already been, and all he had to do was lick his lips and the memory of her sweetness was right there again, filling his senses and heating his blood and making him want.

  But, having crossed all those lines, he never should’ve spoiled the amazing feeling of holding her sated body against his—for once—sated body by expecting her to get even more intimate. As someone who’d more than a few times used sex as an escape, he knew as well as anyone that fucking was not always the most intimate thing that could happen between two people.

  Shayna Curtis had a secret. One that scared her. Bad.

  He hadn’t needed any special instincts or skills to see her near-panic as she’d high-tailed it off his bed and out of his room last night. And seeing that fear both tore him up inside for her and made him want to smash his head into a goddamn wall. Because in his selfish need to find someone who might understand the poisonous guilt he carried inside him, he’d pushed her away.

  Billy of all people should’ve known better. He braced his hands against the counter and hung his head.

  As if she hadn’t bared enough of herself already.

  Not just in getting naked and sharing her body with him. Not just in letting him find his pleasure in her mouth. But also in admitting before the first piece of clothing had even hit the floor that she’d always had a crush on him. So she’d already laid some not insignificant emotion on the table.

  Yet he’d pushed for more.

  He wondered what awesome curse words she’d come up with for him overnight. Whatever they were, he deserved them.

  Fuck, how was he going to make this right?

  Another thought followed close behind. One that either made him an even bigger asshole or, just maybe, one that had him finally on the path to doing the right thing.

  Maybe he shouldn’t make it right. Maybe he should let her stay mad at him. Keep her distance. Until it was time for her to move on.

  Something panged inside his chest hard enough that it caught his breath. Because if her living here had highlighted how fucking starved for company and companionship he’d been, what the hell was her leaving again going to throw some much unwanted light upon?

  With that thought, Billy hit the shower and wondered how else he might yet fuck things up with his best friend’s sister.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed and coming downstairs with nearly the same mix of determination and trepidation with which he might’ve approached the hideout of a suspected terrorist. He wasn’t even at the bottom of the steps when he saw Shayna heading for the back door, a big camera bag on her shoulder.

  “Hey,” he said, rounding the plate-glass bannister. “Where you heading?”

  She paused at the door and peered over her shoulder at him. And, fuck, the wariness there cut him deep. You put that there, Parrish.

  “Oh, hey. Uh, work, actually. My editor called and asked me to fill in for someone who was supposed to cover a community event over in Southwest today.”

  Standing there at the door, she looked not a little badass in a pair of jeans, black T-shirt, with a pair of black sunglasses on her head and the camera bag on her shoulder. And fucking hot, too. Which was exactly the kind of thing he shouldn’t be noticing but couldn’t help noticing.

  “Sorry you got called in on a Sunday.” It was the least thing he should be apologizing for.

  She shook her head. “I’m pretty psyched about it.”

  He crossed to the kitchen counter, but no closer. Both because he didn’t trust himself and because she was throwing off that wariness like a fucking wall. “Well, go knock ‘em dead then.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Okay. Well. See ya.” She gave him another long look.

  “See ya, Shay,” he said, looking right back.

  Whole conversations passed between them. He just didn’t know what any of them meant.

  Then she was gone. And it took everything he had inside him not to go after her. Because he had the shittiest, most foreboding feeling that she was never coming back. Which was bullshit, of course. And just a reflection of how bad he’d screwed up.

  Not to mention a total gut check that he shouldn’t let it happen again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Was it bad luck to look for shelter on a website that otherwise featured offers of stained sofas and people seeking other people via dick pics and screeds in all-caps? Shayna really hoped not as she stood in front of the three-story brownstone which had a basement sublet that she’d found on that site.

  After she’d gotten home yesterday from covering the unveiling of a new heritage walking trail in Southwest DC, she’d picked up where she’d left off the night before—looking at apartment listings and making some appointments to begin seeing them.

  It was not going to be easy.

  There were so many ways that housing could go wrong: crazed roommates with weird habits, unseen bugs, evil landlords, a family of rats taking up residence in your walls, or a whole host of weird noises, smells, or other quirks of an apartment you’d only learn about once you lived there.

  All of which were among the reasons why she’d ruled out finding an apartment from a distance before she ever got to DC.

  And if all of that weren’t enough, there was the intense competition for the best places. Shayna had already had one appointment cancel on her for a $950 studio near Gallaudet University in Upper Northeast—rented by someone else before she’d even seen it. And it had literally been the only available apartment under a thousand dollars per month located in the parts of the city where she most wanted to live.

  If she absolutely had to, she could maybe go as high as $1,250 a month, but beyond that and she’d be in a position of deciding between repaying her student loans and eating.

  Which brought her to the basement in the brownstone. She knocked on the front door, and a middle-aged woman almost immediately answered, a man hovering right behind her.

  “Hi, I’m Shayna Curtis. I’m here about the sublet?”

  “Hi, I’m Brenda, and this is my husband, Robert. Come on in,” the woman said. “Of course, the apartment has its own entrance, too. So, you wouldn’t come in this way typically.”

  Shayna nodded and tried to peer around their part of the house just to get a feel for them. It was old in that quaint sort of way, but clean and nicely decorated. It gave her hope.

  In the kitchen, Brenda unlocked a door, revealing a set of steps down.

  There was no lock on the inside. That was the first thing Shayna noticed. So they could lock her out of the upstairs, but she couldn’t do the same.

  Still, she determined to keep an open mind. They hovered as they hit the basement, pointing things out and watching her as she looked around the one-bedroom apartment. It was a cave with a low ceiling, small windows, white-cinder-block walls, and a beige carpet that had seen better days, but it was fairly spacious and the bathroom included a combined washer/dryer unit.

  “Rent includes utilities except for phone and cable,” Brenda said. “We just ask that if you have to hold parties here, they end by eleven o’clock. It’s an old house and sound can travel.” Robert was still standing there, having not yet said a word. Which was a little weird. But, whatever.

  Shayna nodded. “And it’s $1,050?”

  Brenda arched an imperious eyebrow. “Yes. Is that going to be a problem?”

  Annnd now the apartment was decorated in attitude.

  Whoa, bitchtits. That’s what Shayna thought. But what she said was, “No, not at all.
” Because she could make this place work despite its cave-like qualities. “I have a few other appointments set up, but I should know within the next few days.”

  The woman sighed audibly. “Very well. But know we have other appointments, too.”

  “Of course,” Shayna said, itching to get out of there. She made for the door to what would be her private entrance, and the landlords followed. “Thank you for your time. Your apartment definitely has a lot of what I’m looking for.”

  “Good luck,” the woman said, opening the door for her. Was she imagining it or was the man pleading with his eyes? The dynamic between them was kinda creepy.

  “Thanks.” Shayna jogged up the steps, feeling like she could finally breathe again. She made for the metro station for another appointment, unsure what to think about the place she’d just seen.

  “Miss? Hey, miss?” came a voice from behind her.

  She turned to find a woman about her age jogging toward her. Covered in colorful tattoos and a face full of piercings. “Yes?” Shayna asked, wary.

  The woman caught her breath and began gesturing. “I know you don’t know me, but I saw you come out of the basement apartment at 519.” Shayna nodded though she had no idea what to expect next. “The couple who owns that place fights all the time. Like knock-down, drag-out fights. Everyone on the block can hear them. People call the cops on them but nothing ever seems to happen. I just thought you should know.”

  Shayna’s jaw about hit the street. It’s an old house and sound can travel… “Holy crap, thank you for telling me. I was tempted by that place.”

  “No worries,” the woman said, already retreating. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  “I really appreciate it,” she called back, putting her hand to her forehead. Well that was a freaking near miss.

  Which put her on edge as she knocked on door number two across town, a sublet of a one-bedroom plus den apartment. The woman had said she could have the bedroom, so at least Shayna would have a door.

  This time when she knocked, a girl in pigtails and pajamas answered. A girl who was at least college-aged based on the conversation they’d had in advance, but who appeared much younger. “Hey, you Shayna?” she said by way of greeting.