Chapter Thirteen
Isley
Tired to the bone from lack of sleep, and ruminating over the night before, Isley wasn’t in the best of moods.
Even with the excited chatter in the group chat about a catch up on video call, so all the PAs could celebrate Monty’s mating, he was wallowing.
It wasn’t like him, and he blamed Laken one hundred percent for this new turn of events.
He was so happy for Monty. Heck, he’d won the lottery on mates, ending up with two hot alphas.
Both of them wanted Monty enough to claim him and then tell the world he was theirs.
That right there was the issue, and Isley knew it.
Monty’s happiness was rubbing salt into the wound inflicted by an insufferable alpha that couldn’t admit his attraction was as obvious as the nose on his face.
Hadn’t last night proven that? Their chemistry was hot, and they’d not even gotten naked.
His shoulders sagged with the weight of his unhappiness.
Why did he have to fall for Laken, the brother who had the emotional intelligence of a constipate cow?
He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but last night, with the scent of sex clinging to him, he couldn’t avoid it any longer.
He didn’t do random hook-ups. He never had because they made him feel…
cheap. Yeah, that’s how he’d felt watching Laken hightail it out of his apartment.
He blew out an exaggerated breath, exiting his bedroom dressed and showered ready for the day—not so much but what choice did he have, he needed his wage to pay his bills—to find his brother at the kitchen counter, the air heavy with the scent of coffee and burnt toast. Isley didn’t acknowledge the disappointment at there being no lingering scent of Laken when he had opened all the windows last night in a fit of temper to get rid of the smell of sex.
Seeing his boss leg it out the door after he’d unceremoniously dumped him on the couch without a ‘that was nice’ or ‘thanks for getting me off’ had left him with some seriously conflicted feelings.
I mean, is a little communication too much to ask?
Will you stop asking me these silly questions, I don’t know. I told you to ask him.
His animal’s sulky tone matched his own, which meant even though he was spoiling for a fight, he couldn’t have a go. He eyed the only other potential target.
“Don’t say a word!” he fumed at Somme when he gave him a bright-eyed grin. His hair was wet from a recent shower and swept back off his face, allowing his piercing blue eyes framed by inky lashes to hold focus. He was that pretty.
Isley searched Somme’s features, seeing the similarities, though he had never classed himself as pretty.
Blue eyes the color of melted snow cap rivers, thick mahogany hair threaded with gold flecks, pale, unblemished skin with full lips and a square jaw.
They could, he supposed, look like twins only Somme had more laughter lines around his eyes and mouth.
Why couldn’t Laken see how similar they were?
Isley figured, at two am, by the way Laken lit out of the apartment that he’d misunderstood the connection between them.
It was the only reason Isley’s tired brain could explain away the grimace and disgusted look he’d caught before the door had slammed loud enough to get Mrs Peabody, his neighbor, to come and complain about the noise.
“As if I would. I know you aren’t social until at least your second cup of coffee.” As if to prove his point, he poured coffee into a large to-go mug, adding cream. “Here, you’ll need this to get your brain firing after last night, because it must have been on the fritz after—”
Isley jabbed a finger at his brother, giving him a hard stare but reaching for the coffee at the same time, needing his fix if he was going to spar this early. “You want to find yourself homeless, keep talking!”
The belly laughter at his threat made him scowl and chug back the coffee despite the heat. It burned his throat and woke his system with a furious punch.
“How much coffee is in this?” he coughed and spluttered, eyes watering.
“Enough to give you the boost you’ll need to face your boss this morning,” Somme snorted in amusement.
Isley held up his middle finger and took another gulp of the coffee, because Somme was not wrong.
He was going to need to be on his A game.
Laken’s exit stage right after… Isley couldn’t think of how to best describe the impressive failure of sensibility he’d had.
He could sort of understand them kissing.
They’d been dancing about each other—that’s how it seemed to Isley— despite the rejection.
He just hadn’t expected Laken to blow his mind quite like he had.
He’d thought the kiss would be measured, controlled, no heat.
Boring, if he was honest, with how restrained Laken was. How closed off he comes across.
That was not a boring kiss.
Yes, I’m well aware of that.
How could he not be when the moment their mouths met, he would have been hard pressed to remember his own name, never mind that his brother was one door away and could hear everything. Smell everything.
He couldn’t even be sure if it was Laken who had started what had happened between them. Yes, he’d kissed Isley first, but he’d purposefully goaded the other man, which had resulted in a total loss of sensibility.
He melted your brain cells and sent them straight to your cock.
Do you have to be so crass?
Isley was getting a little fed up with his animal, who was having way too much fun over this when Isley felt used.
Need I remind you, it was you who clung to him, and wouldn’t shift back.
You started it by stripping and giving me the green light to follow when he went to the restaurant with that imbecile.
Yes, well, I didn’t mean for you to take full advantage.
He hadn’t, and he remained embarrassed over it. Kind of.
Fibber!
No matter which way he looked at the whole situation, Isley was at a loss about how to approach seeing Laken at work this morning.
All he could remember was how Laken jerked into action after hearing Somme and threw Isley onto the couch like he had some sort of contagious disease.
The uttered stiff apology—to whom Isley still couldn’t say when he’d not looked at either him or Somme—before retreating, sounding like someone had sawed his vocal cords in half.
The door slam had brought him out of his post orgasmic haze, but too late to chase Laken and ask what the hell was going on.
He must have run out of the building like his ass was on fire.
The man was insufferable.
“Smug ass! When are you moving out?” he muttered waspishly, hunching slightly at Somme’s raucous laughter.
“You know it’s today.” Somme managed around another round of belly laughter. “Wouldn’t want to come between the two of you.”
“Not funny,” Isley groaned, heat perfusing his cheeks, staring at his brother without amusement. “And there is nothing between us.”
Isley didn’t feign ignorance. It would be pointless, regardless of the sexy antics the night before.
“You were with Laken for around five minutes little bro and had him creaming his pants in less than that! I’d say there’s plenty between you, regardless of his fears.
” Somme winked and sipped from his own coffee having gotten his amusement under control.
“The man was certifiably jealous last night.”
Isley’s brows quirked up. They hadn’t spoken last night; Isley was too wrung out emotionally to listen to his brother’s running commentary about what he’d witnessed. “Why’d you say that?”
“’Cause it’s the truth. He clearly thought we were an item.”
“Ugh, yuck,” Isley grimaced, but he’d already come to that conclusion.
“Duh! Of course yuck, but he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. If he’d paid attention, he’d have seen the family resemblance. Jealousy clouds everything,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Intrigued despite himself, Isley perched on a kitchen seat not thinking about the promise he’d made himself last night to never do anything when in a temper.
Like the last time? his sugar glider pointed out snappily.
We aren’t doing that again.
We’ll see, he responded with a smugness that made Isley’s teeth clench before he returned his attention to Somme.
“Do you really think he’s into me?” he questioned, ignoring his other half’s snigger.
“Christ, Isley, when did you become this insecure? The man is nuts for you. Gone. Gaga. He wanted to rip my head off last night when he found me here. Think about it. He was mortified to be sat with pants full of cum and me staring at him.” His expression became thoughtful.
“Yeah, I’d say that’s what drove him out the door.
It strikes me he rarely loses control. And he doesn’t like it either. ”
Somme pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign he was concerned by something. “There’s something about his eyes. A trapped animal, hurt and abandoned springs to mind. Be careful, you know what happens when an animal is trapped—they fight. It might be why he pushed you away in Paris.”
People didn’t give Somme credit for his insightfulness. It was how Isley saw Laken from their first meeting, just not the fighting part, unless it was with words. Laken had a genuine talent for cutting people down to size with his tongue.
Except Somme was right about the haunted quality to him. His animal had sensed it through touch. It was the best way to describe the feeling that came to mind when he caught Laken in those rare, unguarded moments. They only happened when he thought he was alone and allowed his guard to slip.