Dangerously Bad

by Eden Bradley

  The sex was unbelievable, and she was realizing it was because of the connection. Their meals together often ended up with them feeding each other bites, then with the food abandoned on the table so they could be naked and touching each other. She’d never felt such desperate need for a man’s body before, for his hands, his kisses, as though she required him in order to breathe. That part really scared the hell out of her, but she was trying to move past the fear.

  And that’s where she was this morning—a confused mass of happiness and worried anxiety that it would be taken away from her. And the very real fear that she would be the one to do it to herself if she couldn’t get her act together and wrap her head around the fact that a real relationship seemed to be developing, something she knew now she’d never truly experienced before. Which had kicked off all sorts of other complex thoughts about who she was, what she’d come from and what it all meant now.

  By nine that morning she wasn’t able to hold off any longer, and she grabbed her phone and called her best friend.

  “Layla?” Kitty’s voice was rough with sleep.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

  “Nope, I opened my eyes half an hour ago, but my brain hasn’t kicked in yet. It’s fine, honey. What’s up? You okay? Do I need to get the shovel out?”

  “I need to talk.”

  “Okay.” Kitty yawned. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Now that she had Kitty on the phone, she wasn’t sure where to start. “It’s complicated.”

  “That’s all right. Just let it come and you’ll figure it out as you go.”

  “I love you for knowing me so well,” Layla told her.

  “Love you, too, honey.”

  “I know you do. Okay. This is about Duff and me. Or maybe more about me. You know I told you what he said to me a few weeks ago, about needing to be with me?”

  “How could I forget? It was an important moment for you guys.”

  “It was. But now that I’ve sort of come down from the initial high, it’s made me question some things that have come up since I’ve been seeing him.”

  “Like what?” Kitty asked.

  “Like, am I even a Domme anymore? Because even to be a switch . . . I don’t know if a switch can fall as deeply into subspace as I do with Duff. So was I ever truly a Domme? I have to question the person I see within myself, what I am at this point.”

  “Layla, you were the one who taught me that no one else gets to define who we are in kink, and that there’s an ebb and flow. You have both sides in you. Isn’t it possible the side that’s prevalent at any given time is simply a response to where you’re at in life, and who you’re with? Maybe this just happened at the right time, with the right man.”

  She let Kitty’s words run through her brain and tumble around until they sorted themselves out. “You have a point. But there’s more.”

  “You tell Mama Kitty, then, honey.”

  “I guess this thing with Duff has made me consider a lot of stuff I haven’t wanted to look at too closely. He treats me so differently than the other guys I’ve been with. He made his interest clear from the start—there haven’t been any guessing games with him. Nothing to chase, which I realize in looking back, I’ve always kind of liked. Something in me wanted the challenge, but this has been so much healthier for me. I feel like I’ve grown, you know? Because I wanted him despite him being so transparent with me. In fact, he was so up-front that at first I wasn’t even sure if he was being genuine, but he’s never given me any indication that he wasn’t—he simply is who he is, and he let me know it. And now, when I look back at my past relationships, I can see the hundred red flags I chose to ignore because . . . why? It occurred to me last night in a sort of blinding flash that I haven’t felt as if I deserved more. And . . . and this is the hard part. Because I knew instantly it was because of how my father’s always treated me. Less than, you know? But fuck him. Fuck. Him. How could he have done that to his own daughter? His own flesh and blood? Unless, of course, he suspected I wasn’t? Was that a factor? Did my mother cheat before? Or did he never really trust her because that’s just the way he is? No one is ever good enough except for my brother the preacher—Dad’s little clone. But I can’t even deal with all that right now. Whatever the reason, I’ve just figured out why—finally—as strong a woman as I’ve always thought myself, I’ve let men walk all over me. And I’m fucking horrified.”

  “Oh, sweetie. Don’t be so hard on yourself. We can be totally kick-ass in every area but relationships—it’s not only you. And it doesn’t change what you and Duff have, does it? You’re having one of those ‘dark nights of the soul’ and it’s lasting a few days, but what does it mean, other than you’re doing some self-reflection, and learning from it?”

  Layla shoved a hand into her curls, pushing them away from her face. “I guess you’re right. But it’s hard. I’m starting to panic, which isn’t like me. And I actually cried during sex the other night, if you can believe it. I’ve been crying a lot, which really isn’t like me. I cried a little this morning, mopping my stupid floors, and . . . Fuck.”

  “What is it? Are you crying right now, honey?”

  “No.” She sniffed as the small lie spilled from her tongue. “But I’m crying all the time, and I’m bloated and haven’t been able to eat much, and I thought I was . . . lovesick, or something. But I’m not in love. I’m not. I’m just sick. And . . . Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kitty!”

  “Layla?”

  She could hear the alarm in her friend’s voice, but it was nothing compared to the alarm in her own head. The tears spilled down her cheeks and she wiped them away with an impatient hand.

  “Kitty, goddamn it all! I just realized . . . I think . . . I could be pregnant.”

  • • •

  AN HOUR LATER Kitty had picked her up, driven her to the closest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test, and now they were back at her place. Layla was standing in the bathroom doorway, reading the instructions on the box, her heart a small jackhammer trying to break through the wall of her chest.

  “Kitty, how do I do this?”

  “Haven’t you ever taken one of these tests before?” her friend asked.

  Layla looked up. “No. Never.”

  “Then you’re the only woman who hasn’t. All you have to do is pee on the stick, keep it level and wait for the results. It’s easy, I promise.”

  “Easy for you—you’re not the one who’s pregnant.”

  Kitty came to put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “And neither are you. You’re just going through a lot of emotions right now. This is simply to ease your mind. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Then go to it. I’ll be right here.”

  Layla shut the bathroom door and read through the instructions on the box one more time before following the steps. Setting the stick on the bathroom counter, she opened the door. “Okay, start the timer, Kitty.”

  “Started. Come on, honey. Come sit by me.”

  Layla settled next to Kitty on the side of the bed and laid her head on her shoulder. “This is so stupid. I’m so stupid.”

  “Shh. I won’t have you bashing my best friend like that. And I’ve taken these damn tests at least half a dozen times.”

  “You have?”

  “You know birth control pills don’t agree with me.”

  “Yes, but condoms—”

  “Don’t always work,” Kitty interrupted.

  “They have for me.” Suddenly Layla brightened, lifting her head to look at her friend. “Hey. Maybe I can’t even get pregnant.”

  “Is that what you really want?” Kitty asked quietly.

  Her shoulders dropped. “No. No, I think I might like to have kids someday. I know I do. Just not now. I’m only thirty-one. I have plenty of time to figure that out, don’t I?”

  The t
imer rang on Kitty’s cell phone.

  “It’s time, hon. Let’s take a peek at that little pee stick.”

  They got up together and walked into the bathroom, leaning over the sink, where the narrow piece of white plastic shone like a beacon with its two pretty pink lines. Layla turned to Kitty.

  “Fuck.”

  • • •

  DUFF GLANCED AT the clock on the wall of the nearly completed shop and saw it was already ten at night. The new tool chests they’d ordered had finally arrived, as well as much of their supply of standard parts, and they’d been doing a lot of organizing. He wiped his hands on the rag sticking out of his back pocket.

  “What do you say we call it a day, cousin?”

  Jamie looked up at him from where he was kneeling on the floor, putting some metal shelving together. “You okay?”

  “Sure I am. Just a wee bit tired.”

  “A new girl will do that.”

  “It’s not as if I’ve been spending every night with her, cousin.”

  “Not every night,” Jamie teased as he got to his feet. “But I can always tell when you have. You come in here with that sloppy grin on your face. You’d think this was the first time you’d fallen in love or something.”

  Duff’s breath stuttered in his chest. “It is.”

  “What? What about Bess? I know Eileen was batshit crazy, but Bess?”

  “Yeah, not even with Bess. It simply didn’t ever happen. Didn’t really think I was capable after that, to be honest, and was maybe a bit doubtful before. But Layla could change a man’s mind on just about anything.”

  Jamie let out a low whistle. “You really do have it bad—every bit as badly as I did over Summer Grace. Not that I haven’t seen it coming.” Jamie grinned at him. “And not that I won’t take great joy in every moment of your suffering. But maybe I didn’t quite believe you were capable, either. Don’t mean to insult you. I’m just amused at your expense, cousin.”

  “Gee. Fucking thanks for nothing, cousin.”

  Jamie gave him a firm slap on the back. “Personally, I think it’s good for you.”

  “You wouldn’t have said so a year ago.”

  “A year ago I still had my head up my ass.”

  “Ha! True enough. Still do a bit, in my humble opinion,” Duff grumbled.

  “Don’t worry—Summer Grace has me on a training program. She’ll have me in shape in no time. But don’t say anything—I’m supposed to be blissfully unaware.”

  Duff shook his head, then ran a hand over his stubbly scalp. “All right. All joking aside, though, is it bad that I’m having a hard time going five minutes without thinking of her? That no matter how damn tired I am, all I want to do after we’re done here is go see her? Curl up with her? And I want all that shit as much as I want to have sex with her, or even play with her. Does that sound right to you, cousin?” he demanded.

  “Yeah, sounds about right for a guy in love.”

  “Fuck. That’s what I thought. How do you handle this shit?”

  Jamie shrugged. “You have to tell her, for a start.”

  “Ah, and that’s fucking helpful. Like I don’t already know that. It’s making my stomach hurt not to tell her—eating a hole in my gut, if truth be told. It’s like trying to hold mercury in your hands—all that’ll happen is you’ll burn the hell out of your skin before it slips out. I don’t want it to slip out. I need to think about how to tell her, what to say. When to say it. And good Christ, I sound like a fecking girl, don’t I?”

  Jamie nodded, his grin wide. “And your Scottish accent just made you nearly impossible to understand.”

  “Great. Fine. You laugh your ass off while I’m here suffering and letting my heart bleed all over the floor.”

  “As long as you mop up, I don’t mind. But, Duff, the only way to really clean up this whole thing is to let her know how you feel. Or you can keep on torturing yourself and bitching to me about it. Your choice.”

  “You sure there’s no third option?”

  “What? Afraid of a girl?”

  “Damn right I am.”

  Jamie paused, nodding his head. “Yeah. Probably smart in this case.”

  “Like I said, you’re a big help.”

  “I’m giving it my best shot. Seriously.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll do it. I’m going to Layla’s place, and telling her how I feel. Let the chips fall where they may.”

  “If you duck, they won’t take an eye out,” Jamie joked.

  “Very funny.”

  Jamie patted him on the back once more. “All kidding aside, good luck, cousin. I mean it. She’s pretty awesome. I think you guys are really good together.”

  “Yeah, yeah. This is too much girl talk for me. I’m going.” He gave Jamie a good slap on the back. “I’ll keep you posted, cousin. Maybe.”

  His stomach was churning on the drive over to Layla’s house, and he blasted some old-school Sex Pistols to take his mind off it. By the time he arrived at her door he was feeling confident and driven—he had to tell her, and he felt fairly certain she was on the same page.

  He knocked and when she opened the door he was surprised to see her looking wan and a little wrung-out.

  “Hi, lovely.”

  He bent to give her a kiss but instead of standing on her toes to offer her lips, as she usually did, she turned her head, giving him her cheek.

  “You sick, princess? What’s wrong?”

  “I haven’t been feeling too well, actually. But I’m glad you’re here—I’ve been waiting for you to get done with work. I need to talk to you, Duff.”

  “All right. What’s up?”

  “Can we sit down?”

  “Of course.”

  She sat on her big couch and he settled next to her.

  “So . . .” she began. “I don’t even know how to say this.”

  He reached out and took her hand. It was cold in his. “What is it? Are you all right?”

  “Yes. No. No, not really.” She paused, biting down on her lip. “I’m not okay, Duff. I’m not. And I don’t know how I will be. Because . . . because do you remember that night a few weeks ago? The night we had that one little slipup? The one we agreed couldn’t possibly do any harm? Not just that one time, you said. Or maybe I said it. I don’t even know. But the thing is . . . we were wrong.”

  His gut did a hard flip as he took in what she was saying.

  “Are you . . . ?”

  She locked her gaze with his. “I’m pregnant, Duff. I’m fucking pregnant and . . . I think my life is over. But don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything here. I can handle this on my own. And I think that’s best. I really do.”

  A fat tear spilled down her cheek, and all he could think of at that moment was how utterly miserable she looked, and that he had to do something about it.

  “We’ll figure this out. Don’t cry.” He took her in his arms, and her body was stiff, resisting, but he wasn’t about to let her go. And he still had something important to say—maybe even more important now. “Layla, it’ll be all right. It will be. Because I have something to say, too. I need to tell you that I love you. I love you,” he repeated.

  • • •

  LAYLA COULDN’T BELIEVE what he’d just said to her. And she couldn’t answer for several long moments, or maybe it was minutes as a high-pitched ringing started in her ears. A million thoughts were racing through her mind, but the main thrust of it all was “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me now, Duff!”

  “What . . . what does that mean?”

  Shaking her head, she pushed her way out of his embrace, and he let her go. She felt unable to articulate what was going through her head at a million miles an hour. He was going to tell her this now? When she’d spent the day agonizing over her decision to move on with her life without him, despite Kitty trying to
argue her out of it. How could she drag him into this now that he’d said he loved her? It would be emotional blackmail whether he actually did, or if he was saying it because he thought it was the right thing to do under the circumstances, and she couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it.

  Instead of letting him know what she truly felt—what she had to fight to swallow down so the words wouldn’t spill from her lips—she cast her gaze to the floor, focusing on the grain of the wood as she murmured, “I think you need to leave, Duff.”

  Don’t go.

  “What do you mean I need to leave?”

  She shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek.

  Don’t say it. Don’t.

  “Please. I can’t,” she pleaded.

  “You can’t what? You can’t say it back? You can’t love a big dolt like me? I get it. That’s fine. Forget I ever said anything, and I’ll do well to forget about it, too. But we still have something to deal with here.”

  She could hear the hurt lacing his voice, but she couldn’t stop the caustic words from coming out of her mouth. “‘Something to deal with’? That tells me all I needed to know. It tells me handling this on my own is the right decision.”

  “You’d already made that decision before I even knew about this?”

  “Yes, I pretty much had.”

  “Why?”

  “For obvious reasons, Duff. Come on. Are you really the kind of guy who wants to raise a child? And no, I never considered any other option. I can’t, so don’t even attempt to suggest it.”

  “What? What? I never would. Never, Layla.”

  There was a small rage burning in his eyes, and she knew in some distant way that she’d hurt him, although she had no idea why it was such a tender spot. But she couldn’t get any closer—not to him, or to the situation—or she’d lose it completely.