Beyond Layers: Layer Series Book Four (Layers Series 4) (22 page)

As I take this in, analyze it, I feel… elated, relieved, yet utterly overwhelmed. Making someone whole again is a big-ass thing, a huge responsibility. And then there’s the curse. Why is love so confusing, so daunting, so…?

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

“What?”

“You’re shaking.”

“I am?”

“Why are you shaking?”

I look into eyes. “What if I can’t do it? What if I’m not strong enough, or brave enough to make you whole?”

He looks into my eyes as if he’s searching for something. “How did you know?”

“I just now figured it out. Do you think…?”

“Yes, I think Luke sent you to me. I know it sounds crazy, but… I feel him in you.”

Tears cloud my eyes. “Make love to me, Logan. Mark me, make me yours.”

“You are mine, angel. You always have been; you just didn’t know it.”

He lowers, and our lips lock. His kisses are gentle at first, reverent even. But as his tongue demands entry, they become harder, demanding.

He bites my lower lip and my lips part, granting him entry. Our tongues begin to duel and dance, a dance that’s uniquely ours. I feel his cock swell and throb against my inner thigh.

“I need you, Logan.”

The need becomes overwhelming when I remember it will be a first for us. We’d been tested and I’d gone on the pill, and everything is a go. I didn’t tell him, wanting to surprise him but now I’m thinking, I should have told him. I know that look in his eyes; he means to torture me, make me beg.

So I do, hoping to expedite things. “Logan, please.”

“Not yet, angel,” he says, his lips traveling down my neck and beyond. Latching on to a beaded nipple, he sucks it in and bites—hard
.

“Logan,” I moan-whine. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Logan is a very thorough lover. You’d think he was a baseball player, liking to run
all
the bases, over and over. I know what you’re thinking:
what the hell is wrong with you,
Sam? Women love basemen. I’d kill for a baseman.
Hey, I’m hearing you. I know I’m one lucky bitch, but sometimes a girl needs a guy to hit a homer. Touch each base and bring it in. And sometimes a girl needs her hockey player to shoot and score. This is one of those times. When he bites then sucks my other nipple into his mouth, I’m at my end.

“Logan, please,” I beg.

He chuckles over my nipple. “Just relax and enjoy.”

I push him up and off me, my nipple disconnecting from his lips with a
pop.

“Okay,” he says, reaching for the box of condoms. “You are the most impatient, most—”

I kiss him, stopping his words. I take the box and throw it over his shoulder, onto the floor.

“What the hell?”

Running a hand between us, I grasp his cock and raise a brow.

His eyes go big, his pupils dilating. “Seriously? I get to… you get to, we get to…?”

I nod.

He smiles. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He lines up and glides on in.

We moan in unison.

Looking into my eyes, he slowly fills me. When he’s all the way in, fully seated, he pauses. “Angel, this is… you are….”

“I know, baby.”

He sets a rhythm, my heart beating in unison with it. It’s a perfect moment, hard flesh sliding, rubbing, throbbing against wet. The way he fills me, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. He’s right; our bodies were made for each other. We are two halves becoming one, becoming whole.

My release is close, just around the corner. I can feel my womb contract, my vagina walls swelling around him, encasing him. “Logan, I’m…”

“Not yet, angel.”

He lifts up and away, pulling out to the tip. “Look at us, angel.” He runs his hand over our connection, our joining. He smiles and he plunges forward, watching his bare magnificence becoming ours.

“It’s beautiful, Logan. It’s perfect.”

“You’re mine, angel. You were sent from heaven to rescue me, to be mine.”

“I’m yours, Logan.”

He looks into my eyes, sinking balls-deep. “Only mine. No other man will ever have you, do you get me?”

“Yes, I get you.”
God, do I get you. You’re mine, Logan Romano, only mine. No woman will ever have you like this. Do you get me?

Our hands clasp, fingers entwining as he sets a new rhythm, faster, harder.

“I’m close,” he moans. “I’m coming inside of you for the first time. My cum inside you, marking you.”

Holy hell, his words turn me on, throwing me over the edge. “Logan…”

“Let go, angel,” he says, his lips meeting mine.

I moan against his lips as I contract around him, coming on him for the first time, feeling his hot release mix with mine for the first time.

Smiling like an idiot, looking like a dark angel in the moonlight, he kisses me then whispers in my ear, “Score.”

Hours later
…

“Sam. Sam, wake up.”

My tired eyes flutter open. My sister’s beautiful face comes into focus.

I sit up and our foreheads collide.

“Fuck,” she whispers, rubbing her brow.

“Sorry. What are you doing?” I blink. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you going into labor? The boys?”

She puts a flashlight under her chin, so I see the over-the-top rolling of her eyes. “God, Sam. Take a chill pill. Do you ever stop worrying?”

No. Never.
“Why are you here? What’s going on?”

“Just got a call from Lee. Pat called him from the gate. It’s Jules.”

“What? Jules?”

“Apparently, she’s super upset, hysterical, Pat said. Lee let her in. She’s downstairs.”

“What’s going on?”

She shakes her head. “Your guess is as good as mine. Lee said she wouldn’t talk to him, needed to talk to us.”

I look at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 4:00 a.m. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“It’s never good when someone wakes you up this early. Well… unless—”

I hold up my hand. “I get it.”

She smiles. “But then again, this is Jules we’re talking about.”

I nod. “Yeah, could be anything.”

Lex waves the flashlight over and down a sleeping Logan. The light pauses just below his happy trail, where the sheet
barely
covers his junk, before traveling back up. “He’s beautiful,” she whispers, as the light shadows his face.

Big sigh. “Yes, he is.”

She waves the flashlight over his happy trail. “Show me.”

“I’m not going to show you his junk.”

She huffs.

“Lex,” I scold, and pull the sheet up to his chin.

“I was kidding,” she says, and giggles, shining the light back at me. “I told Lee to send Jules to the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?”

“I’m hungry,” she says, like
duh.

“Okay, give me a minute and I’ll meet you down there.”

She turns on the edge of the bed and spreads her legs. Placing a hand behind her, she lifts herself up by pushing off the mattress while her other hand cradles her huge belly. Sighing, she waddles out the door.

I frown. I hate seeing her so… pregnant. She never complains, she holds it all in, but I know this pregnancy has been hell. How could it not? Three babies! Holy hell! That’s just wrong. If she hadn’t already told me Jax has an appointment with his urologist for a vasectomy, I’d do it myself.

A few minutes later, I walk into the huge modern, yet warm and inviting kitchen. I sigh, giving myself a little credit.
I did this. I designed it
.
I’m totally awesome.

Lex pokes her head out from behind the door of one of three commercial-grade refrigerators.

“Where’s Jules?”

She shuts the fridge door, a plastic container of spinach in one hand, a bottle of mustard in the other.

Eyeing her warily, my stomach talking out loud, I take out a bottle of water from the under-the-counter beverage fridge and sit at the bar.

She sits down next to me, her belly making it nearly impossible to get close to the counter, but somehow she manages. I watch as she removes the lid from the container and squirts mustard over the spinach. She forks up an oversized mouthful and in it goes.

Ew!
“Seriously?”

“What?” she says, with her mouth full.

“That’s… disgusting.”

She swallows. “I’ve learned to feed the cravings. It’s not so bad, try some,” she says, handing me the fork.

I hold up my hand. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Whatever,” she replies, taking another bite.

Gross!
“So, Jules?”

She finishes chewing. “She went to the bathroom.”

“And?”

She squirts more mustard on the spinach. “She’s a mess. Never seen her so upset. She’s wearing sweats.”

I raise my brows to this. “I’ve never seen her in sweats.”

“Precisely,” she says, taking another bite, moaning around the fork.

Seriously? That’s just wrong.

Jules enters the kitchen. She looks like… hell. Her always-perfect long blonde hair is flat as an iron on one side and standing as straight as a porcupine’s quills on the other. She’s wearing zero makeup as far as I can tell. Her eyes are red, nearly swollen shut, her cheeks puffy and tearstained. Last but not least, purple sweats. I look down at her feet. She’s wearing her favorite Louies.

I sigh with relief.
The world hasn’t come to a complete end.

“Jules,” Lex says.

She looks up at us. Tears run down her cheeks.

“Jules,” I say, holding out my hand. “Come sit down.”

“Sam,” she cry-whimpers.

“Come sit,” I tell her again.

She remains standing, keeping her distance.

Lex puts down her fork. “Jules, please. What’s happened?”

She hiccups and wipes her nose with a tissue. “I… he… then… we…”

I look at Lex, silently communicating,
what the hell?

I stand, readying to walk toward Jules.

She holds up a hand. “No… I need… I need space. I can’t think.”

“Okay,” I say, sitting back down.

“Jules,” Lex says, “whatever it is, honey. We’re here for you. We love you.”

“Please tell us,” I add. “We want to help.”

She begins to pace, rubbing her arms as if they ache. “No… no one can… help me. I’ve done something… something terrible. Something… very, very, very… bad.”

“It can’t be that bad,” I tell her.

She stops pacing. “It is… it’s so bad. The worst thing I’ve ever done.” She breaks down and begins sobbing.

“Jules,” Lex says, in her nice Sister Mary Margret voice. “Look at me.”

She looks at Lex.

“You don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to. But understand this, and never forget it: you are our sister, our family. You’re a Grant, like it or not. There is nothing you can say or do that will ever change that.”

Jules nods, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her sweats.

Yuck!

“Why don’t you sleep on it? You look so tired, exhausted.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t stay. Nick… He’ll… be coming. I know him; he’ll want to talk to Jax, to confess his sins. He can’t hold it in. It’s too much for his wee betraying heart. I can’t be here. I can’t face him, Lex. I called Marco. I’m staying with him and Henry at Ryan House.”

Lex sighs, looking equally exhausted. “Okay. When he goes, you can stay here, if you want.”

“Thank you, but I’ll stay at the B&B. They have plenty of room and… I don’t want to upset you more. You look as if you’re about to pop.”

“I’m sure they will be happy to have you.”

“You can’t tell Nick you saw me, Lex. You can’t tell him we talked. Promise me.”

“Jules, I don’t—”

She holds up a hand. “No, Lex. You need to promise me, please. He can’t know, and you can’t tell him I’m staying with Marco and Henry. Promise me.”

“Jules, I’m not going to keep this from Jax. That’s what you’re asking me to do. I will promise you that Nick won’t come near you. He won’t be allowed to see you until you’re ready. I’ll add more security if he challenges your wishes.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to ride over with you?”

She shakes her head while blowing her nose. “No… no, thank you, Sam.”

I nod.

“I’ll have Lee drive you. Is that okay?” Lex asks.

She cry-hiccups as she gets a bottle of water from the fridge. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“Jules, I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

She nods and sits across from us. She takes a sip from her water; it seems to help. “I need to tell you. I want you to know my side of this… mess.”

Lex and I reach over, putting our hands over hers. “You don’t have to,” Lex tells her.

“If I can’t tell you, I can’t tell anyone, and I need to tell someone. I fucked up. He kicked me out. I was going to leave him anyway, but it didn’t lessen the sting of being asked to leave.”

Lex and I look at each other. We’d pretty much figured out that something like this had happened.

“We’ll never recover from this, never.”

“Jules, what happened?” Lex asks.

She blows out a stuttered breath. “I’m… I’m pregnant.”

“Fuck!” Lex and I say together.

Jules frowns.

Lex squeezes her hand. “Sorry. It’s just…”

“A shock,” I finish for her.

“You don’t know the half of it. It’s… the baby, it’s not Nick’s.”