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CHAPTERONE
Layla
I’m talking to myself. Not out loud. I’m not that crazy… yet.
In my head, I tell myself that this doesn’t have to be awkward. Miles is coming to stay with us. My step-uncle, the man I should havezerofeelings about. I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about Mom’s wedding to his brother a year ago, when Miles and I ran into each other in a quiet corner of the large garden where they held the reception.
He seemed huge as he stood over me. That’s because heishuge, but he seemed even bigger as he stared down, his intense blue eyes fixated completely on me, his lips curved into a smirk, his body throbbing through his suit as if all his muscles were suddenly going to erupt.
It shocked me when he started to lean toward me.
“I can’t help myself.”
His voice was so husky. He was so close that I felt his breath on my face as he got nearer and nearer. I knew it was wrong. Mom and Noah were already married. Miles was already my step-uncle.Heknew it was wrong too, but not right away.
First was the kiss—the most explosive moment of my life. He passionately pushed his lips against mine, and I returned the kiss, knowing I should stop. I couldn’t, not when I felt his lips, the pleasure spawning within me.
His hands smoothed down my body. I know I haven’t got the perfect body in the modern-day sense, but I’ve always been quietly proud of my appearance. I’d always dreamed of somebody appreciating my curves.
Still, I never expected somebody like Miles to want me. Twice my age, ripped, with neat silver hair proclaiming his maturity. He’s over twice my age. He’ll be forty-three now. I’m twenty. I was nineteen when we kissed.
His hands found my hips and squeezed possessively. Just as I began to give myself to the kiss—throwing my arms around him, leaning up, pushing my body against his—he stumbled away.
His eyes refocused as though seeing me for the first time and only just realizing what he was doing.
“I’m sorry,”he said in a tone that made me doubt his words.
Was hereallysorry, or did he know he should’ve been? Did he know Mom deserves happiness, and this could wreck it? With that, he spun, walked away, and left me to wonder if I’d just imagined the whole thing.
“Layla, are you okay?”
I look up from the armchair, jolted from my thoughts. My lips tingle in memory of the contact, the closeness that won’t quit.
It’s Noah. My stepdad is shorter than his big brother, his hair longer and messier, but still the same shade of silver. He has Miles’ blue eyes, one reason it’s been so difficult to look at him this past year. Whenever we talk, my memories drag me back to the wedding, the stolen kiss, and returning to the party after throwing looks over at Miles. He ignored me for the rest of the night.
I’ve wondered countless times if he was drunk when he kissed me, though I didn’t smell booze on him.
“I promise. Miles won’t cause us any issues,” Noah goes on, grinning, oblivious to the fact we alreadyhavecaused an issue. “Once the work is done on his new house, we’ll return to normal.”
I nod, forcing a smile onto my face. I can’t let Noah or Mom guess why I’m so quiet.
“From everything you’ve told me, Miles is a good man. I’m not worried.”
Noah tilts his head as if he doesn’t believe me, and I can’t blame him. Since Mom and Noah announced Miles had finished his work travels for the time being—he’s a building contractor, often working abroad—and that he was coming to stay with us, I haven’t slept. I’ve barely been able tothink, except about the kiss and the sensation of his firm muscles against my hands, just for a second before he ended it and left me.
Mom walks into the living room, tying her hair into a bun. She’s just as curvy as I am, wearing a flowy summer dress and an elegant necklace that glints in the midday sun glowing through the windows.
She owns her curves, drawing Noah’s gaze as she walks across the room. That’s one reason I’ve never let myself sink into self-doubt or self-hate about my appearance.
Mom doesn’t lethersdrag her down, so why should I?
“Miles is almost here,” Noah tells her.
“I’ll get lunch started,” Mom replies. “Are you hungry, Layla?”
Yeah, Mom, really hungry. Starving, in fact, but not for food.
Imagine if I said that. Imagine if I told the truth right now.
