25. The Reciprocity
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE RECIPROCITY
Layla
That was, by far, the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced.
I know I’m not very experienced. Being demisexual means that for the majority of my adolescence, I fell for my guy friends, and once in a while, I’d entertain the idea of doing stuff with them. But when everything happened freshman year of high school, I gave up trying. My formative years were spent in my room at home, reading and spending time with my family. I never dated—never wanted to. I’m not completely inexperienced, but it’s harder for me to explore sex and relationships. I thought it was because of the assault.
Derek Nichols.
Star football player.
I’d been young and stupid. He set his sights on me, and I let him sweet-talk me into going on a walk around the field with him one night after a football game. Orion had driven me, and he was waiting in his car to drive me home. Derek took me out onto the field after everyone left. He showed me how to pass a football. He laughed with me, and I was smitten—or I thought I should be, at least. He was a popular senior, and I was a freshman.
He wanted to show me the locker room next, and I let him.
The next thing I knew, he’d flipped the lights off and his tongue was in my mouth. His hands felt so unwelcome, and I asked him to stop. Instead, he kept going.
I screamed.
He’d placed a hand over my mouth and had been using his fingers when Orion burst through the door.
I remember sobbing as Orion straddled Derek—punching him until his face was a bloodied pulp.
Derek was in a coma for three months, and he spent six months in the hospital. And I lost trust in men.
Until Starboy.
The connection happened so quickly.
I realize it’s because Orion knew it was me and used that to his advantage.
As I look over at my stepbrother, I imagine what it was like to see my name pop up in his messages.
“I don’t know if I ever thanked you,” I tell him as we walk down the main street in Crestwood.
His apartment is only a couple of blocks away, and like earlier, it’s still warm enough to be comfortable.
“For what?” he asks.
He’s holding my hand—and hasn’t let go since we left Inferno. It should feel weird, but instead, it feels normal. Like we’ve been doing this in another version of this life somewhere, and those alternative versions of ourselves have somehow crossed over into this dimension.
“For what happened in high school. With Derek Nichols.”
He huffs a laugh. “You were pretty mad at me back then.”
I smile. “I know. But I felt ostracized from my friends. From the school. Everyone hated me. Back then, that’s all that mattered. Plus, I remember getting over my anger at you pretty quickly.”
Orion smiles as he remembers what he’d done for me the following week.
“I was a pretty great stepbrother,” he says. It reminds me of the ice cream truck that sat parked in front of our house for weeks, serving only strawberry ice cream in cones with little Ls on them. At the time, I thought it was a sweet gesture.
I felt … cherished.
I look up at him, and he’s staring straight ahead. Now… I see it in a different light.
I see a twenty-year-old struggling with trying to fit between a family with an emotionally absent father and his new family that was so different from how he was raised. My dad rode him really hard when he was younger. He used to say he was making up for lost time—insinuating that Charles wasn’t doing a good job raising him.
I see a young man who had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He floundered for so many years—bouncing between jobs and shirking his responsibilities.
I see the stepbrother he aspired to be—the one who took care of me and always made sure I was happy.
I see the need for control—always pleasing me, always making sure he was good for his four older brothers.
And now… I see the man who’s had feelings for me for years.
The audition… he didn’t ruin my audition because he was drunk.
He ruined it because he didn’t want me to move to Paris.
Don’t do this. Don’t move to Paris.
I remember his voice cracking on the last word. I remember how anguished he’d looked.
I squeeze his hand. “Anyway, thank you. For kicking the shit out of him.”
“Since we’re being honest, I suppose I should tell you that I’ve spent far more time than is healthy ensuring all of his prospective employers know what he did so that he’s unemployable.”
I furrow my brows. “But didn’t he end up playing for USC?”
Orion chuckles. “Nope. He was accepted and went for a week, but then the administrators got word of what he’d done. Plus, questionable videos may have been uploaded to his university account.”
I stop walking. “You planted the videos?”
Orion shrugs. “I had nothing to do with it.”
Narrowing my eyes, I focus on his mischievous expression. “You had someone else plant the videos, didn’t you? What was it?”
“Let’s just say it was an explicit video I paid one of his exes to send to my guy. And he accidentally sent it to his female professor.”
I use my free hand to cover my mouth. “Oh my God, Orion.”
“He’s still living with his parents, and last I heard, he’s in massive debt from some pyramid scheme.”
I lower my hand, and I can’t help but smile. “You ruined his life.”
He tugs me closer, blue eyes blazing into mine. “You wanted a villain, baby. So you got one.”
My breath catches. “You ruined his life… for me?”
He places my hand around his waist so that I have no choice but to be pulled close to him.
“If it was legal to cut off the hands that hurt you, I would have. Trust me, I looked for a way.”
I open and close my mouth. No one has ever…
No one has ever done something like that for me.
In a sick, twisted way, I like that he ruined Derek’s life. I like that he cared enough, that he still cares enough.
If he’s a villain, what does that make me?
“Well, thank you.”
We continue walking to his apartment, and when we arrive, I mull over his earlier declarations. It was an intense scene—if it was even a scene, I don’t know. I’m still new to all of this. To the lifestyle. All I know is I wanted to be good for him. I wanted to please him. None of his confessions mattered at the end of the day because he did them all for me.
If I knew you in real life, I’d ask you to be my submissive. Full stop. I’m holding back. So let me do this.
For you, but also for me.
He knew. All that time, he knew it was me.
I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it, still processing his words and actions from the past week.
From the past seven years.
To be wanted like that…
It’s intoxicating.
We take the elevator up to the penthouse. Orion seems distracted, but I am, too. It’s been a big night full of reveals and mental stimuli. As the doors slide open, something occurs to me. Orion walks out, but I don’t follow him.
I’ve already worked it out that he’s not seeing someone. He was referring to me the entire time. Which means…
“The ring,” I say slowly, eyes wide. “The one in your closet.”
The doors start to shut, so I jump forward and into the penthouse.
For some reason, Orion looks relieved.
Like he thought I might let the doors close and go home.
I don’t blame him for thinking that. I’ve been pushing him away.
But I’m not going anywhere now.
“What about it?” he asks, expression guarded.
It hits me then—how deep this runs for him. He’s keeping it under wraps because he thinks it’ll send me running.
“Is it… did you buy it for me?” I ask, voice barely a whisper.
Something dark passes behind his eyes, and I see the resoluteness—the commanding, Dominant persona flare back to life.
It’s a defense mechanism, of course.
Being the youngest brother.
Being berated by me, by society.
He got into the lifestyle for control. To be able to exercise control. And right now? He’s not in control, so he’s doing the one thing he can do to control the situation.
“I’m not ready to answer that,” he says, voice clipped.
Another hard limit.
“Okay,” I tell him. My face is neutral, and he flicks his eyes between mine as if my answer is a trick somehow. It makes my throat clog with emotion. Stepping forward, I reach out for him. He looks so skeptical, and I have to show him that I’m not going anywhere. “Do you want to order some food? I’m famished.”
His whole expression changes—softening, relaxing.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Orion orders pizza. I change out of my dress and into something sexy yet cozy. In this instance, it’s another pair of bike shorts and another sports bra. When I walk out, I relish in the way Orion’s eyes lazily drag over every inch of my body. We sit down in his living room with the cardboard box between us. He gets me a beer, opening a can of sparkling water in lieu of a drink.
“Strawberry is an interesting choice of flavor.”
He gives me a lazy smile as he leans back. “It reminds me of you.”
My heart turns over inside my chest, and I take another bite of pizza.
“How come you never told me?”
He chews on his piece, and I watch his throat move as he swallows. I don’t think he realizes just how sexy he is—especially right now, with mussed-up hair, an old white T-shirt, and black pants. His feet are bare, and his scruff is a couple of days overgrown. He looks unkempt, wild, and provocative.
“By the time I realized, it was too late. I don’t think it truly hit me until the day of your audition. The threat of losing you spurred me into action.”
“And then I told you I never wanted to see you again,” I mumble, the pizza suddenly tasting like sawdust in my mouth.
He sets his pizza down and reaches out for my piece, placing it in the box next to his as he takes my hands.
“You had every right to say those things to me, Layla. I was a shitty person to ruin your audition, no matter how I felt about you leaving.”
“I shouldn’t have said I never wanted to see you again. I wish—” My throat clogs with emotion. “I wish I’d had you in my life these past seven years.”
His eyes find mine, darkening slightly. “Maybe it’s a good thing I wasn’t.”
I tilt my head. “How so?”
“I just mean… it was hard to keep my feelings to myself from afar. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to had we still been close.” He looks down at our joined hands, and his face clouds with uncertainty. “You know how my parents met, right?”
I shake my head.
“My dad was obsessed with my mom. So much so that he smothered her. Completely and irrevocably. He wasn’t nice about it. To him, she was his. His possession…” He swallows. “I’m a lot like him, Layla.”
My chest aches. “Orion, you’re nothing like him.”
“But I am. I’m possessive. I’m controlling. I might not drink anymore, but I came really damn close to going down that slippery slope, too?—”
“No. You’re not.” I squeeze his hands firmly. “You’re kind and generous. You bought my house so I could afford to buy it from you. You helped me with homework until I graduated. You’re selfless and thoughtful, and you always make sure I’m eating enough?—”
“Don’t you see? I’m kind to you. I’m generous—to you. Everything I do is for you, Layla. Doesn’t it bother you that I’d let the world burn to save you?”
His words send shivers down my spine. “You’re nice to everyone. Stop pretending that you aren’t.” I scoot closer so that I’m right in front of him. “You are not your father. But more importantly, I am not your mother. Felicity was a wonderful woman. Beautiful. Kind. But she easily molded to your father’s will and was easily folded into my father’s life. You forget that not everyone is so easily controlled,” I finish, letting my voice go a bit sultry at the end.
His eyes spark with something heated. “That’s a shame. Here I was thinking you’d be easily coaxed into doing whatever I want you to do.”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth as I lift one leg and place it over his hips, straddling him. I don’t give him the option to protest. His rigid length pushes against me, and I shift to sit right on top of it. His lashes flutter, and in an instant, I’m leaning forward and smashing my lips against his.
He visibly shudders underneath me, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over his reaction to touching me. It’s like he’s being burned at the stake—like he’s so used to holding back that touching me is a holy experience.
“Tell me this is real,” he mumbles against my lips. His warm hands come to my waist, and his fingers dig into my flesh like he’s holding me for dear life. “Tell me you’re actually here.”
“I’m here,” I whisper. “And I’d like you to take me to bed.”