Claiming Serenity(15)

His touch was another matter altogether. It was not beautiful. It was not gentle and Layla brought forth the memory from just days before, the way he held her, tasted her, his mouth had left her temporarily amnesic to what a bully he’d always been. That kiss, those touches, had dampened the angry fire of her hatred for him and she admitted, to herself at least, that she loved his mouth on her. She loved the sounds he made when she touched him back.

Donovan pulled her from the memory of them together when he stood up straight, jerked his eyes to her as though he’d sensed her watching him. His body was tense, seemed prepared for a fight, but that rigid stance relaxed when he caught sight of her.

And then, there was a moment when the pitch disappeared as their eyes sought out each other’s face. Donovan took a step, but only one and watched as Layla stared back at him, his eyebrows relaxing from their pent up wrinkle. His mouth moved, and Layla hoped it would be a smile, maybe just the soft whisper of her name as Donovan called to her across that field. She knew she’d go if he called to her. She knew she wouldn’t walk away from him again.

Then Karlie Fitzgerald, the somewhat flirtatious team trainer, ran onto the pitch, a towel in one hand and an unopened bottle of water in the other. Donovan let the silly brunette distract him. He let her cling to his sweaty neck as he gratefully took the bottle of water from her.

The real him, she reminded herself. Donovan the Demon. How could she let herself forget? Donovan who’d put a shaving cream bomb in her locker when they were fifteen. Donovan who’d called her Skeeter, short for Mosquito Bites, at fourteen because she had yet to develop. Donovan who her parents forced on her every holiday, every vacation until she was seventeen. She hated that their fathers had been best friends. She hated that her down time away from school had usually been spent being tormented by him. He would never be any different, would never be more than the boy he was now.

She’d forgotten, the stupid drugging recent memory of his mouth deflecting the truth she had known all along. Numbing her to the reality of their real relationship, of what it had always been. Of what she needed to remind him it would always be.





“That stupid fecking bollocks almost burned down the bloody house.” Quinn again, Donovan thought, nodding to Declan as he continued to complain about his brother. “I thought Joe was going to have another bleeding heart attack. Scared the piss out of me.”

Declan had been going on about his brother for more than fifteen minutes. He hadn’t touched his burger and the Irishman wasn’t a guy who generally missed meals. Donovan nodded toward his plate, hoping his friend would calm down enough to eat. “Your shit’s getting cold.” Mimicking Declan, Donovan inhaled two bites of his taco in case his friend decided to start up his bitching again. When they’d both gotten through half of their meals, Donovan took a sip of his water then leaned back in his seat waiting for Declan to swallow before he opened his mouth. “Was there damage?”

“Feck, no,” he said, wiping his mouth. “But that’s not the bloody point. I told him he can’t smoke in the house, Jaysus, at least twenty damn times, and that lazy arsehole doesn’t listen.” Declan rubbed his hands over his eyes, grunting behind his fingers as he continued. “I don’t know what’s to be done about him, if I’m being honest.”

“Kick his ass,” Donovan offered, hiding his smirk behind his drink when Declan stared at him. “What?”

“I. Have. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, mate, don’t you fecking listen? Five bloody times. I’ve darkened his eyes twice and gut punched him three times. Shite, even Autumn kicked him in the bollicks and Quinn still tries having a go at her.”

Donovan didn’t get what Declan was so upset about. The guy had at least twenty pounds on his younger brother. Why didn’t he just mess him up a little to get him in line? “So kick him out.”

“And have those swarmy estate people nagging me?” Declan threw his napkin onto the table, rubbing the back of his neck as though he couldn’t make the tension there ease. “As if I don’t have enough shite to worry about.”

“Man, you have to relax. No one is asking you to play nursemaid to him.”

“The hell they’re not. He’s the one that’s gotten himself into this mess.”

“Then he should get himself out.”

“He can’t.” Shoulders lowered, Declan leaned on the table, face down and worried. Donovan had only ever seen his friend so keyed up once before, when Declan was trying to keep away from Autumn. Before he decided to get his head out of his ass. “That’s why I got landed with him. His mum bites it and he can’t function without her. I’m his only blood kin left, much as that means.”