Baby Mine Read online

  Stepping into the kitchen, I notice the fridge door is open with an almost bare ass perked up in the air. She’s wearing an oversized T-shirt and thin panties while digging through our food.

  God help me.

  Apparently, Brandon’s date is raiding our fridge now. Decent ass, though.

  Leaning against the counter, I cross my arms over my chest and loudly clear my throat. “What are you—”

  Before I finish my sentence, something flies through the air at me, and I don’t dodge it quick enough before it grazes my right nut.

  “Son of a bitch.” I barely get the words out and hunch over, holding my junk in my palm.

  “Oh my God!” the girl squeals. “I’m so sorry! You scared the shit out of me!”

  I’m ready to curse her out, but I can barely breathe as I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to gain composure. “You…hit…me!” I hiss between pants. “This is what I get for being thirsty.”

  “It was an accident!” She kneels, trying to console me when a lock of blond hair lands on my arm.

  “Don’t touch me,” I warn. “I just…need a minute.”

  I hear feet padding against the floor, then the flick of a light switch.

  “Jesus, what the hell did you do to my roommate?” Brandon asks.

  “I threw the bottle of Reddi Whip at his nuts,” the girl explains.

  Fucking A.

  Reddi Whip. Of course.

  “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t hear him approach, and then I heard his voice, and it was instinct,” she rambles a ridiculous explanation that has me seeing red.

  Brandon tries to muffle his laughter but fails. “You okay, man?” He pats my shoulder and offers a hand.

  I inhale a deep breath and swallow down the pain. Taking his hand, I stand and try to get my bearings before I chew this chick out.

  “Sorry about that. She was thirsty and wanted some snacks,” he explains like I’m an idiot and didn’t just hear their entire fuck session.

  “Whatever, it’s fine.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to regain my control.

  My vision finally clears, and it’s then I see the woman Brandon has his arms wrapped around, swatting her ass.

  “Lennon,” I croak out, blinking, hoping I’m imagining her in front of me, standing in my kitchen with my best friend. My jaw tightens and nostrils flare at seeing her pressed against him. What in the ever-loving-fuck is she doing here?

  “Hunter.” She says my name so softly I almost don’t hear it.

  “You know each other?” Brandon asks, pulling her tighter as he looks at her like she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

  Because she is.

  “From the bar,” Lennon quickly explains.

  I can’t seem to form words at the moment. The air in the kitchen grows thick, and I wish it were only my nuts that felt numb right now. I look back and forth between them, watching them together, and know deep down inside that Brandon isn’t going to let her go after tonight. He’s not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am type of guy. He fucked her senseless and claimed her as his. Brandon has the ability to give her everything she could ever need or want, but me, on the other hand…

  “He made me a special drink,” she adds, pulling me from my self-deprecating thoughts.

  The Leg Spreader.

  How fitting.

  “Oh, right.” Brandon smiles, having no fucking clue what this is doing to me. Of course he has no idea. I didn’t even get the chance to say anything or make it known I was attracted to her. But this answers my question as to why she never came back.

  Fuck my life.

  “Certain he makes all the pretty ladies special drinks. That’s how he gets the big tips.” Brandon chuckles, tilting Lennon’s chin up until their lips collide. And I’m out.

  “I gotta get up in a few hours, so I’m gonna head back to bed,” I say casually, pretending my heart isn’t being gutted.

  I turn to walk away when Lennon calls my name. “Hunter.” The sound of her voice makes my jaw tighten and hands ball into fists.

  When I turn, she’s behind me and smiles when I look into her eyes. Goddammit, why does she have to be so gorgeous?

  “Water?” she offers as if she’s trying to make peace.

  Blinking, I look down and see she’s holding a bottle.

  “You said you were thirsty,” she confirms.

  As I stare at her, my lips move into a firm line, and I ignore her offer. Is it possible she didn’t feel what I did? Was it all a figment of my damn imagination? She came up to the bar at least a half dozen times, and I never asked for her number. Fucking moron. Did she think I wasn’t interested and then found someone who made it clear he was? My roommate, to be exact.

  Without another word, I turn and walk away with my bruised nuts and defeated dick between my legs.

  Chapter One

  Lennon

  PRESENT DAY

  2 years later

  The annoying buzzing causes my eyes to pop open, and I reach over to turn off the alarm on my phone. My boyfriend, Brandon, stirs and pulls me close to his warm body. We fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces, and even after all this time, I can’t get enough of him. If I didn’t have a meeting at the school with the principal this morning, I’d stay in bed just a little longer and enjoy his hard body pressed against mine. He hums against my neck, and I smile. Since I moved in eight months ago, me waking up early and him trying to lure me to stay longer has become our morning routine. There’s never enough time.

  Brandon holds me tighter, and I’m tempted to stay but still need to shower and dress. I turn around and face him, brushing a soft kiss against his lips as he throws an arm over me. “I have to get up. I can’t be late for work. Principal Maples will have my ass, and I’m still trying to get on her good side,” I whisper.

  “I know, I know. You’re just so warm and comfy,” he teases in a husky tone before I slip from his hold with a smile. Waking up next to him is the best start to my day.

  I lean over the bed and place another kiss on Brandon’s lips before I rush into the bathroom and turn on the shower.

  A smile fills my face as I think about how far we’ve come as a couple these past two years—well almost two years. It’s hard to believe it’s been that long already, but at the same time, it feels like only yesterday when we first met.

  Though it started with a friendly hello and flirty banter, I instantly knew he’d be more than a random hookup. After we danced a few times, he asked for my number, which I willingly gave to him. Brandon knew what he wanted—me—and I couldn’t deny I wanted him too. There was something electric between us, something that pulled me to him and made my heart race. Though I’d shown interest in Hunter earlier, the way Brandon gave me his full attention drew me closer. Random women walked up and tried to steal him away, but he politely told them he wasn’t interested, and he never took his eyes off me. The way he looked at me that night made me feel so damn special.

  By the following morning, we’d shared so many personal details about ourselves that I felt like I’d known him a lifetime. He understood me on a deeper level than some of my closest friends. I’d never felt a connection like that with any other man before, and Brandon still holds that record.

  Although we didn’t exactly take things slow right away, my feelings for him were almost immediate and have only grown stronger. I wasn’t the type of girl who went home with a random guy, and I’m not one-night-stand material, but with Brandon, it was different. Hell, I’d only ever had one serious relationship before him, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.

  Since I still had one year of college left and lived three hours away, we dated long distance, staying exclusive and taking turns traveling back and forth as much as possible. During my final semester, I applied at elementary schools in Sacramento and some of the suburbs. I wanted to not only be close to him but close to my older sister who had just moved here as well. As soon as I was offered a contract to be the music teacher at Hillsong
Elementary, I moved in with him and his roommate, Hunter. The apartment is small and quaint, but we make do with the space since it’s within all of our budgets. Eventually, Brandon and I will get our own place, but until that happens, I’m forced to tolerate Hunter and all his asshole antics.

  I hop in the shower and begin washing my body and hair. As I scrub, I sing the Beatles songs I grew up listening to. Considering the Beatles released over three hundred songs, I have an almost unlimited morning repertoire. Just as I finish up the chorus to “I Want To Hold Your Hand,” I hear hard banging against the door.

  “Shut up, Lennon! And hurry your ass up!” Hunter shouts, beating his fist on the door, which only encourages me to sing louder. I’m practically belting out the words by the time I’m rinsing the conditioner from my hair. I honestly don’t know how Brandon sleeps through this every morning, or maybe he’s just immune to it. At this point, Hunter and I argue worse than a brother and sister.

  After I scream out the Broadway-worthy grand finale of my vocal performance, I turn off the water and hold back my laughter. Hunter hates it when I sing, especially early in the morning. He’s always a grump before eight, and getting a rise out of him is fun. It’s payback for all the times he purposely annoys the shit out of me. I’ve sung in the shower since I was a little girl, so I’m not changing that for anyone, especially not him.

  Stepping out of the shower, I grab a towel and dry off. Hunter pounds on the door again, startling me, and demands I hurry for the thousandth time. As I brush my teeth, I think back to when we first met. Most assume we met after Brandon and I started dating, but that’s not the case. Hunter was bartending that same night, and we’d shared a moment at the bar before Brandon and I started talking that night.

  At first glance, he gave me heart palpitations, but he was a total sweetheart and flirt, and made me comfortable ordering from him. I remember his tattoos and how they intricately covered his forearm, and wondered if he had more. I was in a different town on spring break and wanted to let loose and be reckless. We exchanged side glances and smiles, and as he poured different liquors into my glass, I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. But neither could every other woman in the bar. Nervous exhilaration coursed through me when he spoke. Hunter’s charismatic and charming vibe lured me right into his web.

  I went back to my friends and kept the electrifying moment to myself as I tried to find the courage to go back to the bar and get his number. When I looked over at Hunter, a handful of women desperately vying for his attention surrounded him. He happily obliged, smiling and flirting with them just the same. They were all gorgeous, leaning over the bar to touch his muscular arms and laughing as if he just told the best joke. Though I didn’t have much experience with men, I still wanted a week of fun and spontaneity. However, my insecurities got the best of me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to satisfy a guy like that, not even for one night.

  My fears and self-doubt kept me from going back to the bar alone for the rest of the night. I played it safe, staying within my comfort zone, and kept my friends nearby. After seeing the way he bantered with other women and they clawed at him, I convinced myself what we shared was nothing more than him working hard for his money. Considering the bad attitude and rude comments he continues to throw at me, I know with certainty there wasn’t anything special between us that night.

  The first summer after Brandon and I started dating, Hunter had a different woman over every other weekend I was there. He couldn’t even remember their names half the time and had no qualms about openly bragging to his guy friends for being able to “bag and shag” any girl he wanted. If he wasn’t bragging about his conquests, then he’d go on about how hot or how built he was. Hunter’s muscular, there’s no denying that, but his appeal was lost after hearing him talk about it for the tenth time. Since he no longer works at the bar, the number of women he brings home has slightly slowed down, though he still acts like a manwhore and is superficial. “Bartender Hunter” was nothing more than a façade, a made-up gentleman my imagination created. “Real-life Hunter” is a smartass jerk who complains about my singing, lives like a slob, and has a revolving bedroom door.

  Once my hair is dry, and I’m happy with my appearance, I go to my bedroom where Brandon is still sleeping.

  I look through the closet and slip on a skirt and a comfortable blouse. Before leaving, I carefully lean over the bed to give Brandon a kiss goodbye when he suddenly grabs me and pulls me on top of him.

  “Sure you don’t have time for a quickie?” he playfully asks as I straddle him, feeling his thickness beneath me. Brandon sits up, palms my breast, and releases a small groan of desperation. I slightly rock on him as he arches his hips, feeling his arousal but knowing we can’t start something right now.

  “Babe, if you make me late—” I start as he moves his hands to my ass and squeezes, pushing me harder against him.

  “Then I’ll get to fuck you for the next hour?” He arches a brow. The morning sunshine barely lights the room, but I see his cocky smirk.

  “You’re the ultimate tease. You know I’m gonna be thinking about this all day now,” I admonish as I climb off, squeezing my legs together. He knows damn well I have to get going.

  Brandon lets out a light chuckle. “Have a good day, my little sex kitten.” He flashes me a wink.

  “Shut up,” I mock before telling him goodbye for real this time.

  As I walk into the hallway, I spot a pair of red lacy panties on the floor that aren’t mine. I look down at them, and my nostrils flare. I try to ignore it until I walk into the kitchen to find cabinets open, half-full beer bottles on the counter, and dirty dishes piled high. A loud groan releases from my throat when I see a bowl in the sink with dried cereal on the bottom.

  “What the hell?” I whisper as I turn the water to a scalding temperature to soak the bowl. He knows I hate this because the cereal becomes rock hard and essentially super-glued to the glass, which makes it nearly impossible to clean without scrubbing. Hunter walks past me to place another dirty ass bowl in the sink that’s full of what looks like old macaroni and cheese. When I see the random noodles stuck to the bottom of the bowl that’s clearly been in his room for days, maybe even weeks, I almost lose my shit.

  I turn around and glare at him. He’s shirtless, wearing pants that hang off his hips, and has his normal no-fucks-given attitude. If he weren’t such an asshole, maybe he’d be able to find a woman to help take care of him because he’s obviously unable to do it himself.

  “Are you serious?” I ask, trying to keep my tone level. “Are you incapable of using the dishwasher?”

  He shrugs, opens the fridge, and lifts the gallon of milk to his lips, taking a drink directly from it.

  My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open as I gag. I make a mental note not to have any milk until we buy more or maybe not ever. “What the actual fuck, Hunter? Have you lost your damn mind?”

  He places the jug back in the fridge and slams the door shut. Turning and glaring at me with deep brown eyes, he finally responds, “I lost my mind when you moved in.”

  I growl, unable to keep my frustration buried inside. “Ugh! You’re such a freakin’ slob!”

  Hunter walks away, and I hear his door close. My heart gallops in my chest as I look at the mess, and it angers me to no end. Every night before I go to sleep, I clean the kitchen spotless because I can’t stand to wake up to a dirty house. Each morning, I feel as if I’m living in the twilight zone because I find different articles of women’s underwear scattered on the floor and dirty dishes filling the sink. I’m no one’s maid or babysitter, especially not his.

  More empty beer bottles and chip bags litter the coffee table in the living room. The cushions are haphazardly thrown around, which I hate. It looks like a fucking tornado went through here last night. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath, hoping I find the restraint not to walk into Hunter’s room and strangle him to death because he deserves it right now.

  Before I leave for wo
rk, though I don’t have time for this shit, I have to clean up the mess, or it will bother me all day. I quickly throw the random trash away, situate the couch cushions, and pick up until the place looks semi-normal. Hunter enters the kitchen, fully dressed this time, and places two slices of bread in the toaster.

  “It’s a new year. Think you can start cleaning up after yourself? New year, new you?” I ask, hopeful, but the sarcasm isn’t lost on him.

  “That’s what we keep you around for.” He shoots me a snarky smile, and I’m two seconds away from slapping it right off his smug face.

  I huff, seeing red. “Why are you so insistent on being like this? No wonder you’re single. No one can stand you once your clothes are back on.”

  Hunter places a hand on his chest over his heart and gives me a fake pouty look. “Oh man. That one really hurt. What will I ever do with myself?” He makes the extra effort to roll his eyes with so much exaggeration, I’m afraid they might get stuck. “Try again, Lennon. Your jabs have become as old and worn out as you.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re gonna be single forever and die alone.”

  “Better than being stuck with someone bossy and constantly nagging like you.” His toast pops up, and he sets it on the counter with no plate, scattering the crumbs everywhere as he spreads peanut butter over both pieces.

  “You’re absolutely impossible!” I glare at the mess he’s making where I just cleaned. “If you weren’t Brandon’s best friend…”

  “Go ahead. Say it,” Hunter says over his shoulder, glaring. “I dare you.”

  Ignoring him, I grab a protein shake out of the fridge. “I don’t have to because you already know what I was gonna say.”

  “That you’d kick me out?” He releases an evil chuckle. “As if you have some sort of power over him. Hate to break it to you, honey buns, but Brandon does whatever he wants. Just because you two are fuckin’ doesn’t mean shit. I’ve known him for longer than you and know him better than you ever will. Your magical pussy won’t be able to make him bend to your will forever, sweetheart.”