27. April
Chapter 27
April
I wake with a dull throb between my legs. The sun casts soft rays which flitter through the room. I blink into focus and a slow smile spreads across my face as I reflect on last night, my skin tingling as I recall his touch. Rolling over, I reach for the other side of the bed, finding it empty. I stretch my hand, brushing my fingers against the cool sheets.
He must have got up a while ago.
Deciding to freshen up, I slip out of bed and into James’s bathroom on wobbly legs—they worked hard last night.
I study myself in the mirror and find a woman I barely recognise staring back at me. I look alive. My skin is flushed with colour, and my eyes are bright. It’s as if he’s magic, breathing life back into my lungs and reviving my body. Slowly, I bring my hand up, tracing my fingers over the tender skin where James bit and sucked at my flesh. The memory of his mouth on me sends a rush of heat straight to my core.
Turning on the tap, I test the water until it’s tepid. I cup my hands under the stream, letting the water pool in my palms before splashing it onto my face. My hair is a mess, which isn’t surprising. I comb my fingers through the tangled strands, trying to tame them into some semblance of order. God, we were thoroughly undone last night.
I find a tube of toothpaste on the counter and squeeze a bit onto my finger, rubbing it over my teeth—it’s the best I can do, considering I didn’t bring an overnight bag.
I hoped we’d have sex, but I didn’t anticipate sleeping over. It wasn’t even a question, not when he heated a wheat bag to warm me before pulling me into his chest. I haven’t slept that soundly in a long time.
It felt so wonderful being held again. I was nervous, thinking I’d fall apart the first time I slept with someone who wasn’t Lucas. But there’s no sadness, not even a trace.
I do feel a touch guilty, because honestly, I can’t help but compare the brothers. Yes, Lucas was big, but James … James is bigger. Much bigger. And he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I twist the tap on once more. Lowering my mouth to the stream, I swish the water around before spitting. “That’s as good as it’s gonna get.”
I quickly scan the bedroom in search of my clothes, suddenly remembering I undressed in the lounge. Standing at the threshold of his bedroom door, I poke my head out, scanning for any sign of James. Nothing. I hold my breath, listening carefully for any sound. But again, nothing. My brows knit together in a frown—where is he?
Straightening, I make a mad, naked dash to the lounge, spotting my clothes scattered across the floor. I quickly pluck them up and rush back into his room.
Dressed and somewhat decent, I head back to the lounge and grab my phone. My eyes widen when I see ten notifications. I open my inbox to find messages from Gemma, Anna, and—what the fuck?— Lucas .
My heart gallops as I stare at his name. Why is he messaging me? I haven’t heard from him in months. He blocked me, for fuck’s sake.
I take a deep breath in, count to four, and release it slowly.
My thumb hovers over the screen as I debate opening the message. I close my eyes and try to gather my thoughts.
It could be nothing.
Maybe it was an accident?
No. You don’t block and unblock someone by accident.
But why now?
I was finally doing better.
I don’t know what it is about men, but it’s like they have some sort of radar that can sense when women are either struggling or doing just fine. And it’s not until the needle lands on “fine” that they think You know what? I’m going to ruin her day. Just for fun.
I’m at a loss for what he wants, and right now is definitely not the appropriate time to find out. I just had his brother’s dick inside me, for Christ’s sake. Instead, for now, I choose to ignore it.
I open the text thread with Gemma and Anna, grinning as I read their messages. My fingers dance over the keyboard as I type out a response, then hit send.
Gemma: You’re out of litter, and Basil shat on the floor.
Anna: What? Where’s April?
Gemma: She went to James’s last night.
Anna: WTF? When? We all got an Uber together. I literally dropped you home!
Gemma: After we got home, he sent her a text because they almost kissed after the gig. After said text, she went to his house to seduce him. Judging by her suspicious silence, I think it’s safe to assume he dipped his wick in her vag.
Anna: OMG!
Me: I’m going to have to miss the market this morning. Sorry, Gem. I’ll grab litter on my way home. Thanks for letting me know.
Gemma: You’re lucky you have a good excuse. Good idea, it was gross and I gagged. But worry not, I ordered you a new bag to be delivered.
Me: Ugh, you’re amazing. I owe you. Thank you!
Anna: *le sigh* No one cares about the cat turd. What you owe us is some details!
Me: Yes, I went to James’s house. Yes, we had sex. I’ll tell you about it later.
Gemma: Come to mine tonight for margs and we can discuss.
Me: See you then. X
Anna: See you then.
The sound of a key jingling the lock startles me, and I quickly drop my phone onto the coffee table just as James swings the door open. One hand balances a tray with two takeaway coffee cups, while the other clutches a brown paper bag. My core throbs as I watch him. He looks like he belongs in a museum. Seriously, who looks that good in the morning?
He’s wearing a lightweight long-sleeved top that clings to his broad shoulders, loose joggers, and a pair of trainers. His sandy locks are tucked behind one ear, while the other side hangs loose, a stray strand falling over one eye as he juggles his keys and the takeaway. He glances at me with heat in his eyes. I drop my gaze to the floor, suddenly aware of how exposed I feel after last night.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says in a smooth rumble.
Sweethear t. I like it.
“Hi,” I say, hiding my smile. He walks towards me, and I stand frozen, unsure of what to do.
Do I kiss him?
Tingles bubble inside me.
Fuck, why am I so nervous? This man has seen and tasted every inch of me—I was literally rubbing my vagina in his face last night.
Perhaps it’s because I know just how good he looks underneath his clothes.
He closes the distance between us and leans in, planting a firm kiss on my lips, and his scent—a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him—envelops me.
“I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry you woke up to an empty flat,” he says as he moves to the kitchen. I follow closely behind. “Did you sleep well?” he asks, setting the cups and bag on the counter.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “And I did, thank you. I haven’t slept that well in a long time.”
I pull out a bar-stool and take a seat. James turns, giving me a soft smile that makes my pulse accelerate.
“Me too,” he says gently. “I could get used to falling asleep with you in my arms.”
“I certainly wouldn’t protest,” I tell him.
I turn to liquid at his smile. He swivels back to the counter, opening the paper bag and pulling out two freshly baked pastries.
His phone chimes, and my stomach twists as my eyes dart to his pocket. He pulls it out, swiping the screen to dismiss the notification before slipping it back. The quickness of his movements unsettles me, like how Lucas’s did before I found?—
I stop myself before I follow that train of thought, shifting in my seat.
He isn’t Lucas .
Instead, I lean over to peek at the treat. The warm, buttery scent wafts through the room. I catch sight of the flaky, golden pastry dusted with icing sugar and speckled with almonds, and my mouth waters.
“That smells divine,” I note, and my stomach grumbles loudly.
James laughs. “Here, you need to eat. I’m sure you worked up quite the appetite after last night.”
He isn’t wrong.
He sets a coffee cup and an almond croissant in front of me before taking a sip from his own. I wrap my hands around the cup so its warmth seeps into my fingers. I inhale deeply, breathing in the heavenly scent of freshly brewed coffee—it might just be the best smell in the world.
As I look down, my eyes catch the familiar stamp on the cup, one I hadn’t noticed when he first arrived. A flurry whirls in my chest—he went to the Daily Grind.
I know it’s just a simple coffee and croissant, but it’s so incredibly thoughtful.
He remembered my order.
My gaze catches on his. “A cappuccino and almond croissant?”
He looks at me nervously. “They’re your favourites, right?”
“Yes, thank you,” I confirm, beaming from ear to ear.
“You’re welcome,” he says, his eyes warm.
He pulls out a stool and settles beside me, resting his hand on my thigh. He gives it a gentle squeeze and rubs back and forth over the fabric of my joggers. We sip our coffees and munch on our croissants in comfortable silence. The flaky pastry melts in my mouth, and I can’t help but moan at the rich, decadent flavour.
“That good, eh?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“It’s orgasmic, thank you,” I say around a mouthful.
“You’re welcome.” He chuckles, taking a generous bite. His eyebrows furrow before his head swivels in my direction. “Wow, this is incredible.”
“I know. If it weren’t for the risk of a heart attack, I’d live off these.”
“Well, we definitely can’t have that,” he says, pulling my stool closer to his. “Not after last night. I’m far from finished with you yet.”
“No,” I agree. “That would be positively awful.”
“Positively.”
I smile. We continue to eat, and sneak I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, noticing that he’s watching me. Last night was incredible, but as I sit here and melt under his gaze, I can’t help but wonder where we go from here.
We’ve crossed the line—we’ve slept together.
I slept with my ex-fiancé’s brother.
This is real.
It happened.
But now what?
How do we navigate this?
Was it just a one-time thing?
There’s a look on his face I can’t quite decipher.
“What?” I ask, bringing my hand up to check if there’s any icing sugar or coffee around my mouth.
“Nothing,” he says, reaching up to push my hair over my shoulder. His hand hovers, and he slowly runs his knuckles along my collarbone. “You’re just beautiful.”
I look down, feeling my cheeks redden. “I look a mess.” I laugh, my fingers fidgeting incessantly.
“You’ve never been more lovely.”
Ugh, my heart. This man.
On the surface, he looks like a classic bad boy—playing bass in a band, covered in tattoos, the wayward hair. If you searched trouble in the dictionary, I’m sure you’d find his picture. He’s the type of boy your mother warns you about. But underneath it all, he’s unbelievably sweet. So attentive and observant—he’s the kind of person who surprises you with how deeply he cares.
Lucas was always charming. He would easily win people over with his poetic words, but that’s all they ever were—words. James is different. He’s thoughtful, and doesn’t just say the right things but takes action. He pours his whole heart into everything he does, chasing after what he wants with unwavering determination. James isn’t the type to wait for you to ask for help—he gives it without prompting.
Shit . Lucas’s message.
The reminder burns through me like a searing flame. I’m sitting here, having breakfast after being fucked by his little brother, completely distracted, and I haven’t even opened his bloody message yet.
“I can see the cogs turning in your brain.” James’s gruff voice cuts through my spiralling thoughts.
“Huh?”
“What are you thinking about?”
“I suppose … I’m wondering what happens now.”
He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve slept together … I just don’t know what it means,” I say, searching his eyes for an answer.
“What it means?” he says. “Well, it was amazing. It doesn’t have to mean anything right now. We enjoyed ourselves, right?”
I swallow a lump in my throat and nod.
“So, we’ll figure it out. We don’t need to rush anything.”
I jerk my chin, unable to speak as panic unfurls in my chest.
“Hey,” he says, shifting my stool to face him. “Sweetheart, look at me.”
I can’t.
I can’t look at him.
I know he’s right.
He’s not putting any pressure on this situation; he’s been nothing short of amazing. But I just sat here and compared sex with this beautiful man to sex with his brother.
I try to convince my nervous system that everything’s fine. But Lucas’s message wraps around me like tungsten chains.
What could he possibly have to say to me?
And why did he have to send it the morning after I had sex with his brother?
God. This is a mess.
I’m a mess.
Does this make me a terrible person?
My heart rate spikes, and a wave of panic crashes over me, panting as I near hyperventilation.
What have I done?
This isn’t me—I don’t sleep with people I don’t love, let alone someone who was supposed to be my future brother-in-law.
I loved Lucas.
I was going to marry Lucas.
James has been single for years. I can’t expect him to suddenly change because we slept together once. For all I know, that message he just received could have been from another woman, and I have no right to feel possessive.
I can’t act like he owes me anything.
I cringe at my own actions, becoming consumed by shame. I abruptly stand from my stool, stepping back as if creating distance could somehow erase what we did last night.
“April,” James says, reaching for me.
I pull away, avoiding his touch.
“What just happened? What’s wrong?” His voice is laced with concern as he stands, and his expression shifts from confused to worried.
Tears brim my eyes. “What did we do?” I whisper, bringing my hand to cover my mouth as the reality sinks in. “What did we do ?” I repeat, my voice frayed.
I blink and a lone tear slips down my cheek.
I look at James, scanning his face for an answer, desperate to find a solution to my turmoil in the depths of his ivy-green eyes.
He just stands there, shocked. His throat works as he swallows.
“I should go,” I say, turning to head for the front door.
“Go? What? April, you don’t have to go—you haven’t even finished your coffee. We can talk about this.” His voice is anguished as he reaches for me again, but I dodge, moving past him.
I quickly pluck my phone off the table. My grip wavers as I swipe to unlock the screen and pull up the Uber app, punching in my address. I connect with a driver one minute away.
“What are you doing?” he asks, stepping forward cautiously.
“I’m leaving,” I reply, eyes glued to my phone as the car icon moves closer.
“You don’t have to leave. Can we please just talk about this?” His voice is so thick with hurt that I finally look up, meeting his eyes. “I don’t want you to go.” His voice is hollow and stripped of hope.
My phone vibrates with a notification: My Uber is here.
“This was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“A mistake,” he echoes.
“Yes. A mistake.”
His arms fall to his sides, defeated, his face painting a tortured picture. His jaw tenses as his eyes flicker to the unfinished food and drink on the counter before returning to meet mine, searching for something—anything—that might change my mind.
With one last look at James, I release a rattled breath. My hand rests on the door handle when his voice reaches me.
“April …” But the words die on his lips.
“Bye, James,” I whisper, stepping through the door.
I slide into the Uber, dropping my head back against the headrest and close my eyes.
Fuck.
What did I just do?