Chapter Twenty-One – Kayla
My dreams are not plagued by my brother after Hayden agrees to sleep on the floor.
I wake up the next morning feeling oddly refreshed, and I roll over to see that Hayden is asleep, his head turned in my direction.
His position is funny; one leg and one arm stick out from under the covers, like he was too hot but also too cold to go without the blankets altogether.
His chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths.
A strange desire rises within me: I want to be closer to him, to share that blanket with him and curl up against him, feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. My thoughts don’t stop there, though. No, they go into deeper detail of what else I want.
Let’s just say they’re things I’ve never wanted before, things that make me blush even though no one can hear said thoughts.
Those thoughts fluster me too much, and as I fight the heat on my cheeks, I sit up and move while trying to not make a sound. I get out of bed, tiptoe around Hayden’s still form, and make my way to the door.
I don’t know if Hayden stayed up last night after he came to check on me and I asked him to stay in the room with me, but I don’t want to wake him up.
My hand curls around the knob, and I turn it as slowly as I can so as to not make any noise. Only when I step out in the hall can I let out the breath I was holding, and right then my stomach decides it’s a great time to rumble, so my next destination becomes the kitchen.
That’s the thing about actually eating. Who knew that eating only makes you want to eat more? Or maybe it’s just because my body isn’t used to being fueled like this, and now it wants more, more, more. More food while it can, before we revert back to the way things were before.
I do stop in the bathroom first, make sure my hair isn’t a complete pigsty, and do my business before I venture to the kitchen—and when I reach the kitchen, I find someone else is already up: Bradford.
He leans against the counter near the coffee maker, sipping from a mug. Over that mug, his dark eyes spot me instantly. The über wears a dark gray suit even though it’s—I check the time on the stove—seven-thirty in the morning.
“Sleep well, I hope?” he asks as he slowly lowers that mug.
I rub my cheek and yawn. “Yeah.” It doesn’t hurt as much to speak, not as badly as yesterday. I’m getting better. Slowly. On the island, I see the donut box has been brought in, and I temporarily forget everything else as I wonder if there’s another sprinkle-topped donut waiting for me.
That thing was delicious yesterday. I could go for another.
“I saw Hayden made himself comfortable in your room,” Bradford remarks.
When he says that, I have to tear my gaze away from the box and bring it back to him. “Oh, um, yeah. He heard me having a nightmare, and I… I asked him to stay with me.” I don’t know why I say this next part, but I do: “I hope that’s okay.”
Bradford’s reply comes swiftly, “Of course. Whatever you want.” He must sense my longing for a donut, because then he says, “Have a donut. Or two. There are plenty left from yesterday. If they’re too stale, I can always order another batch.”
I lean on the island and flip up the lid to the box.
It doesn’t look like anyone else ate a single donut after the one I ate yesterday morning.
Whether or not they’re stale, I don’t even care.
I go for another one that’s coated in sprinkles, although this one has chocolate icing.
I’m not very ladylike when I take my first bite.
He sets his mug down and goes to retrieve a glass out of the upper cabinets, getting me some water. Only after he places the glass near me does he say, “You like donuts, huh?”
“Mm-hmm,” I say with a mouthful. “Who knew?”
He lets out a sound that’s halfway between a grunt and a chuckle. “Most people, I suspect. How are your legs doing?”
“Fine, why?” I take another bite from the donut, and then I remember I hurt my legs two days ago in this very spot. I don’t feel them at all. It’s actually kind of crazy.
“Just curious.” He goes back to his coffee and nurses it from the mug.
I finish the donut in record time, and all the while Bradford watches. I can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight, but it’s not like I’m making him watch me, so really, it’s all on him. Reaching for the water, I gulp it down.
Filtered water is so much better than tap water. Like, it’s not even close.
When I finish the water, I set the cup down and lean my back on the edge of the island. My gaze travels along his imposing figure and that well-fitted suit. His blond hair is perfectly combed back, like it usually is, and it appears as though he shaved already. No stubble on that square jaw.
He’s nearly two decades older than me, but he’s still a good-looking guy. Handsome.
Now that’s another thought I definitely shouldn’t have. All this food must be making me lose control of myself, because what the hell? That thought came out of nowhere, and now that I thought it, there’s no way I can go back to the way things were before, when I was oblivious.
I swallow hard. “Do you always wear suits?”
Bradford glances down at himself. “Why, do you have a problem with suits?”
“No, no, it’s just… it’s Saturday, so I just thought, I don’t know, you’d be in your regular clothes. Not your working clothes.” Look at me, I’m still in my pajamas.
He tugs at his suit jacket with his mug-free hand. “These are my regular clothes.”
“You don’t have jeans or t-shirts or anything?” When he only stares at me like I’m speaking a different language, I say, “Do you sleep in the suits too?” A mental image pops in my head, one where I imagine he’s in bed… without a suit on.
Without anything on.
I mean, how can sleeping in a suit like that be comfortable? There’s no way. He has to have pajamas of some kind… or he really is just a madman. Who wants to sleep in dress clothes?
“Curious how I sleep, Kayla?” If I don’t know any better, I’d say his tone is kind of flirty, but maybe that’s just my inner omega stretching her legs, so to speak. Bradford doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who flirts.
A shame, really.
Crap, no. I need to course-correct my thoughts. They’ll get me in trouble if I’m not careful.
I have to try salvaging this somehow, so I tell him, “I’m just saying, I can’t imagine it’d be comfortable to sleep in clothes like that—” The way those black eyes of his bore into me, I lose track of what I’m saying. “—but if that’s what you like to do, then who am I to judge?”
He tilts his head to the side. “If you really must know, no, I don’t wear a suit to bed. The rest I’ll leave to your imagination.”
Oh, boy. Not a great thing to say to me when my mind is running amok this morning with inappropriate thoughts left and right.
As if I don’t already have enough to think about, Bradford says something that’s totally out of left field: “You smell good this morning.” Just stated matter-of-factly, like he’s bringing up the weather and not my scent.
I reach up and touch my neck, as if I can hide my scent by doing so. It’s far too late. All these calories I’m inhaling left and right, and things were bound to happen. I just didn’t think it’d happen this fast. It’s almost as if my body is raring to go, wanting…
Well, things an omega near her heat wants.
Affection. More food. Validation. All things I’ve never outright needed before.
This ain’t good.
A loud yawn alerts both Bradford and me to Hayden’s presence.
He shuffles into the kitchen, scratching his stomach beneath his shirt—or should I say, scratching his flat, muscled abdomen beneath his shirt.
Still caught in a yawn, he asks, “Am I interrupting something?” He comes near me and takes a donut out of the box, and as he eats it, he stands less than a foot away from me.
And, I hate to say it, he smells good. A deep, earthy scent, laced with pine. It’s stronger now, stronger than it’s ever been, and it becomes immensely difficult for me to stand there and pretend I don’t want to lean into him and memorize said scent.
Bradford is the one who answers, “No. Sleep well, Princess?” Okay, now there he’s definitely teasing, and it makes me wonder if he was a little flirty with me before.
Not that it matters. It doesn’t. Absolutely nothing can happen between us. Between any of us.
Hayden sends a wide grin his way. “I did, thanks.” As he takes another bite from his chosen donut, he points to the über and circles his frame in the air. “Do you own any other clothes, or is it just strictly suits?”
Bradford is unimpressed, but me? I start to laugh. I can’t help it. I laugh, and in doing so I draw both men’s attention to me, and the weirdest thing is, I don’t mind it. I don’t mind having their eyes on me. It’s kind of nice. The way they’re looking at me now isn’t something I’m used to.
Not like they pity me or want to control me. Not like they feel sorry for me and my situation. No, the way they’re looking at me right now makes me think one thing: they want me.
Which is ridiculous and untrue. There’s no way either of these guys would want me like that. Hayden, maybe, but that could be just me reading into his niceness. Bradford is a closed book; he doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, and he’s made it clear he doesn’t want a pack or a mate.
I need to keep my head out of the clouds while I’m here. It’s not going to be easy.
Hayden goes for a second donut, and honestly I’m debating on whether or not I want to try eating another. He’s halfway through it when he says, “So, Bradford, you got anything to do around here?”
“Like what?” the über huffs.
“I don’t know. Anything to pass the time.
Board games, sports equipment, videogames…
the more I say, the more I’m thinking you have absolutely nothing in this house or in that huge-ass garage of yours.
What the hell do you do with all your spare time?
Do you just wander the halls, looking lost, while wearing suits? Come on, man, that has to get old.”