Claiming Serenity(4)

“No. I don’t remember anything,” she lied. Her head pounded, worked a fierce Congo beat between her eyes. Even digging her knuckles into the corners didn’t make that pounding throb ease. “Freaking Patrón.”

When she pulled her fingers from her eyes, Donovan straightened from his lean against the door; the frown that had made a brief appearance on his face earlier returned, but was heavier, more severe. He actually looked like he was ashamed, like sleeping with her really had nothing to do with humiliating her. “Hey, look I’m sorry. I asked you a couple of times…”

Layla couldn’t take his excuse, shook her head to shut him up even though that did the throbbing in her head no favors. She wanted him to feel shitty. She wanted him to feel as bad or even worse than she did. His expression sure made it seem like he did, but this was Donovan Donley, arch enemy and bane of Layla’s existence. They had never been friends. Hell, they had never been friendly. He was an idiot if he thought a bottle of tequila would erase years of loathing.

“Donovan we have hated each other since seventh grade and you pulled my shorts down in front of the entire gym class because I tagged you out in dodge ball. You tortured me throughout high school. You told Liam O’Brien that I had body lice when he wanted to ask me to the sophomore winter formal. In what sane world would you ever think I’d want to do you?”

That ‘I feel shitty’ expression left his face and back again was the familiar jackass that Layla had grown accustomed to. The tilt of his head, the smirk that screamed patronizing asshole, brought back the acquainted urge to scratch out his eyes. “Like I said, you started it. I’m a guy, right? That’s what we do.”

“You’re a freaking pig.”

“Yeah?” Donovan leaned against the door and Layla had nowhere to retreat. She suddenly felt like this revoltingly unkempt room was too small, too confining. “Well, oink, oink, baby, you gave this pig the ride of his life last night.”

Tired of looking at him, smelling that thick male scent coming from his skin, his hair, Layla stood up straight, tall, despite her raging head and aching limbs, eager to let him know she wasn’t going to let him shake her. “I swear to God and all that is holy, if you tell anyone—and I mean anyone—about this…”

“Who am I gonna tell? You think I want anyone knowing I was with the psycho who put a freaking pound of glitter in my AC vents?”

One of my better pranks, she thought and grinned remembering the weeks and weeks Donovan walked around campus looking like he had motorboated a fairy. Glitter sticks to absolutely everything. But for months her friends had been telling her that all the pranking and bickering was a very long stretch of foreplay. If Donovan ran his mouth about last night, they would find out and tease her to insanity. No way was she going to let those bitches think they were right.

One arched eyebrow at him and she knew he understood just who it was that he shouldn’t talk to—his best friend.

“Please,” he said. “Declan would kick my ass and I don’t want your dad benching me right when my ankle heals just because I defiled his precious angel.” When he saw Layla wince, Donovan sighed, held up his hands as though he was tired of arguing with her. “Let’s just agree to never mention this for the rest of our lives.”

“As if I would.”

“Fine.” Donovan moved her out of the way to open the door wide. “Then why don’t you leave?”

“I’m already gone, dickhead.” And she meant to leave, right then. She meant to leave him and his nasty little apartment and never think about this God-forsaken night again. But then Donovan worked his jaw as if he might say something else, and the pull of their animosity, the constant thread that always had them bickering, arguing, attacking, made her hesitate.

Donovan’s chest was large and as his breath came out hard, heavy, anger clear and present with each exhale. Layla couldn’t help staring at that chest, at its size, its firmness. Another niggling flash of the previous night came to her—his skin glowing in the lamp light, the curves of his back, his arms as he worked that strong body over her. She blinked again, three quick flutters she hoped would drive the faded memories out of her head, but when she looked up at his scowling frown, Layla knew she had to cover for that hesitancy. She couldn’t have him thinking she was staring him down, worse yet, that she really did like what she saw.

“Just… um just so we’re clear, no one can know. Especially Declan. He can’t keep his mouth shut and if Autumn knows, then everyone else will.”