The Girl With Hearts (Midtown Brotherhood #1) (2 page)

Except she was here, and he was touching her. Rules no longer applied. The temptation was too much. The old saying ‘you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink’ didn’t apply to him. He’d drink every time.

That was why she came here. That was why she chose him.

He let go of her wrist and lifted his hand to her temple, hesitating only a moment before brushing a strand of her scarlet hair away from her eyes, which rounded in anticipation. His fingertips lingered, causing her breath to falter, and it unwound what little was left of his inhibition.

It was reckless and irresponsible, but that was his middle name. Besides, he couldn’t comprehend a thought that didn’t involve making her lose her breath. In an almost instinctual gesture, he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted it up. Her lips parted, releasing the most delicate whine he’d ever heard. He planned on waiting for her to make the first move. This was her rodeo, after all. But again, his own eagerness won out, and he touched his lips to hers without thinking twice about it.

Soft. Perfect. Leila.

He lingered just long enough to ignite a twist of desire for her that he’d spent four years trying to sedate. Her breath came out ragged against his lips as her eyes brimmed with disappointment. She was worried he’d changed his mind. The thought almost made him laugh.

He took a step back, unbuttoning his jacket before throwing it on the couch behind him. “Don’t worry,” he easily explained, “I’m just getting started.”

Something akin to excitement flashed across her face, and he had her on her tiptoes, her hand latched around his neck, before she could even finish her next breath. She gasped into his mouth as his hands wrapped greedily around her delicate waist.

Logic, rationality, and common sense crumbled easily under the weight of the attraction that pulled him toward her. She wasn’t just any woman; she was years’ worth of self-deprivation confined into one beguiling bundle of warmth and perfection. Her fingers brushed against the buttons of his shirt, and he took the opportunity to entangle his hands in the long sweep of hair dangling down her back.

He’d always wanted to do that.

As soon as he deepened the kiss, parting her lips long enough to taste the sweet seduction he’d desired for too long, he whipped her around and pinned her against the wall. A new, powerful urge erupted inside him.

Four excruciating years he’d longed for her.

To know her touch, and feel even a hint of that unrelenting passion she used to curse his very existence.

It caused him to touch her body rough and demanding one moment, and then tenderly the next as he fought against his own eagerness. Tonight, this one, small flash in time, would be his only opportunity. Tomorrow, she’d be like all the others.

A memory.

He forced himself back long enough to catch his breath. He noticed the look in her eyes, the one she’d never admit even if it killed her, and he knew her memory would be the one to finally haunt him.

Clouds formed in her brilliant green eyes, the brown flecks swirling with the craving they both felt. He hadn’t realized that he’d moved her, that he’d picked her up and swerved around the couch. Her lips ravaged his throat as his shaky hand sought out the doorknob to the bathroom. He shut and locked the door behind him, setting her down on the sink.

She shot him a crooked smile to ask about the change in scenery. He shrugged. “Just in case your brother decides to come back early. Austin is my roommate, remember?”

He should have been alarmed by the complete lack of guilt he felt at the mention of his best friend. However, in that moment, with Leila’s shiny lips smiling at him for maybe the first time ever, Austin was just the name of some guy he knew. Her hands were already busy when his lips found hers again. She yanked desperately at his shirt, and he discarded it quickly before setting his sights on her dress. Now that she was here, the countless fantasies he’d harbored finally coming to fulfillment, he found himself wanting to slow down, to savor every second.

He maneuvered the zipper of her dress down as the lavish kisses down his shoulder steadily slowed. Her fingers traced his shoulder blade. She inspected the sleeve of tattoos that decorated his entire left arm. “This is new,” she whispered, her breath rushing across his skin like fire on water.

“How would you know?” he challenged, and the look they exchanged said what neither of them would.

Their mutual hatred didn’t mean they hadn’t each been acutely aware of each other for the past four years.

“They’re hideous,” she proclaimed.

His smiled widened. “Uh-huh. That’s why you’re still touching them, right?”

She looked down to see her fingers absently tracing the outline of the emblem that represented their college logo. She pulled her fingers back, and he laughed. “I don’t mind,” he whispered, dropping his forehead down to hers. “I was actually hoping to get a taste of yours. If I remember correctly—” He pushed her hair over her shoulder, revealing the tiny string of hearts, descending in size, that led from behind her ear down her neck. “Yep, there they are.”

He kissed them then, each of the four pink hearts in turn, before dropping down to the nape of her neck. Leila could pretend to be a prim and proper socialite all she wanted, but she’d never convince him. She’d always be the girl with hearts, sitting in the stands and wearing that worn-out jersey. Her bright, innocent eyes taunting him, a constant reminder she was everything he wasn’t allowed to desire.

She sighed, and his primal instincts threatened to take hold of him, enhancing his desire to claim this prize that fate had given him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down from the sink as his fingers traced the inside of her thigh.

He paused, his jaw going slack with shock as he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties beneath the dress. She pushed up on her tiptoes to meet his ear, and this time it was Leila who laughed. “I was prepared to seduce you if necessary.”

Henrik bit the inside of his jaw, bundling the fabric of her dress between his fingers. “Damn. I would have really liked to have seen that.”

“That’s what you get for being easy.”

He growled, though he had to admit he enjoyed when she provoked him. That had been their thing all along, the one and only social interaction she allowed to transpire between them. A battle of wit and ego, deciding who could insult or ignore whom the best. It was time the tables turned. He’d finally prove that she wanted him too.

“You’re one to talk.” He smiled back at her, and his hand slid from under her dress.

She watched him, dazed, as he finished with the final inches of zipper on her dress and let it drop seamlessly to the floor. Her hands trembled along his bare chest, inching their way down until they lingered along his waistline. He watched her intently as she tugged at the button and zipper of his pants.

She was exaggerating her innocence for his benefit. He was sure of it. As the fabric fell away and her hands found him again, the thought was instantly lost to him.

He pulled her away, moving them to the wall, where he pinned her between his arms. She gasped at the gentle way he kissed her, the rough edges suddenly smoothed away. His skin was hot, burning, and bloomed damp when she bit desperately at it. The air was ripe, thick, and tasted of her delicious, fruity scent with each gulping breath he took.

Whatever this woman did to him, he welcomed. Whatever she demanded of him, he wanted to give. Leila slipped her bra away, suddenly naked against him. He wrapped his long arm around her waist and heaved her easily up until her backside pressed against the wall. He looked at her, watching her eyes for even a hint of indecision. He found none.

She yelped violently, her shrill scream catching in her throat. Her fingers clawed desperately at his neck. He could see the shock, the pain mixed with pleasure on her face. His temple fell against hers, until they were eye to eye.

“Leila.” His voice was suddenly ragged and desperate.

What the hell did he just do? She wasn’t just pretending to be innocent.

“Don’t stop.” Her breath was shaky against his neck. Tears. Those were definitely tears on her lashes.

“But…Leila—”

“No.”

Shit. Austin was really going to kill him now. For real kill him.

The sudden reality and depth of his betrayal finally started to sink in. Austin warned him that Leila was off limits, and now he understood why.
He’d make the news for this. Death by big brother. Probably on national television too. That was Austin’s style. A little public humiliation with your ass beating.

Leila’s breath hitched against his neck, her desperate fingers latching tighter around his bare shoulders. Life would never be the same after this—it couldn’t. He broke the man code, and he would pay the price. He should feel shitty, and scared, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Not right now. As Leila’s vulnerable whine echoed in his ears, he thought maybe not ever.

Chapter 2

LEILA’S VENGENCE

Trapped between crying, cursing herself, and ecstasy, Leila sucked in a breath to hold it all in. Her lips stilled against his neck, her hands clasped around Henrik’s shoulders for dear life.

Henrik.

Shit. It actually happened, and it happened with Henrik.

She’d lost her mind this time. That satanic answering machine with its chippy, nasal voice. Not a single ounce of sadness entered her body upon the realization that her so-called boyfriend cheated on her. Not even a drop. It was pure anger that captivated her. She suddenly saw the world in red flashes, and it was either get out of the house, or demolish his pussified Corvette with a hockey stick.

She didn’t necessarily want to go to jail, so she left. She walked the streets, pacing out her aggression and cursing Derek to damnation. Yeah, she was probably really lucky she didn’t go to jail.

When the haze finally faded, she found herself at the Regency. She could have lied and told herself she’d come for Austin. That would have been a natural reaction—seek out your big brother for comfort. Leila wasn’t one for natural reactions, apparently. She stepped foot inside those sliding glass doors for one reason only.

Henrik. She wanted Henrik. Hell, she’d always wanted Henrik.

He turned his cheek, and she knew it was his silent way of checking if she was still alive. She’d never felt this alive in her life. She tucked a piece of his blond hair behind his ear. She’d hate him for it tomorrow, but right now, she just wanted to pretend the Henrik in her dreams was real.

He shifted beneath her, and she winced. She hadn’t thought this through at all. Next thing she knew, his lips smiled against her. “Sorry,” he barely said aloud. “Trying to take it slow. Not easy.”

She nodded, wondering if he could see how much effort she took not to move. Every part of her screamed. It was embarrassing.

Suddenly, his hand steadied on her hip. Her fingers instantly embedded in his shoulders again. He kissed her neck, willing her to relax, and her body followed his direction flawlessly. Definitely embarrassing.

“I’ve got you,” he assured her.

She couldn’t help but smile. His accent was more prevalent. Maybe that meant he was nervous too. She really hoped he was nervous too.

He moved again, and again. Conscious thought was an impossibility. She’d never felt this way, completely consumed by the present. It was ridiculous how one simple move of his hips could erase her thoughts and numb her heart. It had to be the end, but as the sensation continued to roar throughout her body, there was more. Much more.

She was lost in him. Henrik’s lips, his painted and sculpted body, engulfing her from every angle. He guided her, washing away the nerves and the pain, replacing it with something much more powerful. Something she’d never forget.

She wasn’t sure how it happened, but he still held her limp body firmly around him. Her legs shook with weakness as his weight pinned her against the wall. Her breath was ragged and sharp, her mind fuzzy. He set her feet gently on the floor, but her legs collapsed beneath her. He followed her down, kneeling between her thighs, and she could feel his gaze on her. Roaming her body, taking her in.

Slowly, the fog of lust drifted from her eyes, her body floating down from the high. He reached up and pushed her scarlet curls away from her eyes, his own clouded with questions. “You dated Derek for two years,” he managed to stutter out.

Her head fell against the wall, her chest still heaving as she rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t remind me.”             

She didn’t want to talk about it. Admitting she wasted two years of her life on a piece of lying scum wasn’t exactly on her to do list, especially with Henrik.

“Leila.” His voice was suddenly firm and serious. “I just took—”

She jerked up straight, a flash of the former anger she felt lashing through her. “What do you want me to say? I wanted to wait until I was married to have sex. Having standards doesn’t give him the right to cheat on me.”

His brows drew together. “Of course not. That’s not what I meant. I just wish I would have…known.”

Having finally caught her breath, she attempted to stand, only to find her legs still too weak, so she sat back down. “You would have said no?”

He leaned away from her, studying her tight features. “No, but maybe the bathroom at the Regency wouldn’t have been my first choice of venue.”

She snorted at the absurdity of his suggestion. “Because where you take some girl’s virginity is that important to you.”

It was cruel, but it was Henrik. He deserved cruel. However, it didn’t stop his jaw from gaping. “I thought we determined that you weren’t ‘some girl,’ and even if you were, I do have standards.”

She gave him a ‘yeah, right’ look.

“They may be a little lower than yours,” he spat back at her, “but I’m not a total asshole.”

Leila finally gained enough strength to stand. “You had sex with ninety percent of the girls in my dorm my freshman year of college. You remember that? In fact, if I recall correctly, you visited two different girls on my hall in one night.”

He stood too, folding his arms over his chest. “They weren’t virgins,” he growled down at her. “And they weren’t you. Though, if I remember correctly, you were too stuck up to even say hello to me.”

“You mean I didn’t stop to fawn at your feet on your way down the hall to screw the second girl for the night? Forgive me for my insensitivity.”

“They called me. You know, very similar to the way
you
showed up at
my
door tonight.”

She grabbed her bra from around the faucet handle, mad at herself.

She had to stop pretending. Henrik would never be anything more than a skirt-chasing asshole, just like Derek would never be a gentleman. Men weren’t capable of perfection.

“And you didn’t disappoint,” she snapped over her shoulder, turning away from him to fasten her bra.

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

She turned around in circles, searching for her dress. “It’s not.”

He snatched the flimsy fabric off the floor before she could reach it and pointed it at her. “You’re not playing fair. You don’t get to come here and proposition me, and then look down on me because I said yes.”

“Give me my dress so I can leave.” She jutted her chin out, trying to hold it together.

“I took your virginity, Leila.” He spoke the words slowly, exaggerating each syllable. “Why don’t you show some emotion about that for just one moment?”

“Why?” she scoffed. “What difference does it make? There are no knights in shining armor. There are assholes like Derek who lie about their escapades, or openly promiscuous pricks like you. I simply chose the lesser of two evils.”

She held her hand out for the dress, and trembled despite her best effort to control it. He tucked it underneath his arm. “And you think I’m callous? Do you even hear yourself?”

She stepped forward and ripped the dress out of his arms. “I’ve lost all faith in the male species. I guess that’s what four years of college with you, and two years of dating him will do to a girl. You should feel honored.”

He watched her as she put on the dress, his jaw clenching tightly. It only spiked her anger. He didn’t have the right to judge her after everything he’d done. She glanced at the tiny silver watch on her wrist and sneered at him. “And look, it’s still early. You may still have time to go two for two tonight.”

Heat flushed his face, and an air of satisfaction swelled over her. She grabbed the doorknob, but Henrik’s hand covered hers first.

“Wait. Did you hear that?”

“Let go,” she said, shoving him back.

She pulled the door open, but he quickly shoved his entire body against it, slamming it back shut. Seconds later, Leila heard it too.

“Hey, Ryley!” the voice bellowed into the room. “I thought you were coming out tonight.”

Leila sucked in a sharp breath. This wasn’t bad. It was catastrophic. Only one person in the world got to call Mr. Arrogant, Henrik Rylander, by his childhood nickname, and that was only because her brother was the size of a yeti.

Henrik held his finger up to his lips, pleading with her to stay quiet. He looked terrified. She really wanted to roll her eyes at him. Like he was the only one who’d get a lecture out of it.

“Sorry, man, I fell asleep,” he insisted, yelling through the door. “I was just about to get in the shower.”

“Well, you really missed it tonight—” Austin began, rambling incoherently about the happenings of the evening. He was drunk. Thank God. His words slurred together, and he sounded tired.

Henrik quietly locked the door. “What are you doing?” she mouthed, pushing away from him.

She realized too late that he was still naked, and took a few more cautious steps away from him. He grinned.

“Stalling,” he whispered back, “unless you want to walk out there together like this.”

She picked up his underwear and threw it at his smug face.

“That’s what I thought.” He paused long enough to slip them on. “He’s wasted. He’ll pass out in a matter of minutes.”

Austin stopped talking, and the room went quiet. Henrik walked over and flipped on the shower. “You’ll be out of here in thirty minutes, tops.”

“Great,” she mumbled, going to sit in the corner of the bathroom as far away from Henrik as possible. She didn’t need his perfect abs and cryptic body art staring her in the face. She slid down the wall, noting the ache in her thighs. A quick reminder of what had transpired.

She lost her virginity. In a bathroom. To the reigning man-whore of the east coast.

Awesome.

Her head fell in the palm of her hands as she sighed. The strap of her dress fell off her shoulder, but she didn’t care. Why should she? She’d been completely naked in front of Henrik just minutes ago. Naked. He’d seen her naked, and they had—

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She cried, silently, but she could feel the tears leaking down her cheeks.

“Leila—”

Henrik’s face was white. His stupid, perfect face. If that wasn’t enough, he was going to act concerned. He wasn’t concerned about her, he just wanted out of this situation without his best friend kicking his ass.

“Are you okay?” he asked, but a knock resounded on the hotel room door. It sounded urgent.

Leila jumped up. She could hear Austin stumbling out of bed. She rushed past Henrik and pressed her ear to the door. Sighing, Henrik followed suit. It sounded like Michael, one of Henrik’s teammates, but he talked in a rush, so it was hard for her to be sure.

“Where is Henrik? Callen got in a fight with some idiot in the stairwell. The cops are threatening to take him in if he doesn’t calm down.”

She looked up at Henrik, but he shook his head. “Idiot,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Just go,” she insisted, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. “And take Austin with you.”

It would be easier that way. No awkward conversation. No listening to Henrik pretend he cared. No chance of her brother deciding he needed to piss.

Henrik bit his lip, thinking. “Stay here,” he said quietly, placing a hand on her hip. “I’ll pawn your brother off on someone down the hall. I’ll drive you home.”

Now Austin yelled for Henrik.

She vehemently shook her head. “No, just go and get him out of here.”

He tightened his hand on her hip. “I don’t feel right leaving you when—”

“That’d be a first,” she snapped, whirling away from his touch.

He paused. Hurt.

She should have kept her mouth shut. He didn’t need to know why she hated him. At least—not why she started hating him.

It was history. It was over. Actually, it never even began.

Henrik’s eyes narrowed as he studied her expression. She knew it looked spiteful. It was her customary Henrik response look.

“Fine,” he spat back at her. “Be miserable by yourself.”

He jerked the door open and pushed through it. He didn’t even bother to look back, like nothing had even changed.

Because it hadn’t. It was Henrik Rylander. Of course it hadn’t. She waited until the door clicked shut before she cried.