Landon (A Next Generation Carter Brother Novel Book 3) Read online

  How did this conversation do a full one-eighty?

  His jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow into slits. “Who the fuck touched you?”

  Ignoring the anger in his tone, I pat him on his chest, even though I’m a wreck inside. I’ve longed for this moment; to have him look at me as more than an annoying insect or passing over me all together. This isn’t something I’m going to pass up.

  I want him. I always have.

  “Adam, my best friend. When we were in school, I wanted to know what it felt like, and he wanted to know if he was gay,” I explain, ignoring the hardening around his eyes. “After the third time, we concluded he was gay, and that sex isn’t everything.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. And it isn’t. I didn’t lose my virginity to some random stranger or someone who would leave my life in the future. I had sex with my best friend.

  My brothers suffocated me to the point I was scared I’d be a thirty-year-old virgin. So Adam and I made a pact, and after, we never spoke of it again. Another motivation behind my pact with Adam was I knew the only person I truly wanted to be with didn’t want me. He had a girlfriend who he so obviously loved and adored, to the point I knew he would never look at another girl, let alone me, and want a relationship of any kind.

  After, well, I had come to terms with the fact he would never look twice at a girl like me. It was a mixture of things. Firstly, was because after his girlfriend died, he became more withdrawn from everyone around him. I noticed girls would try to get his attention, and he’d never give it. And those girls were drop-dead-gorgeous. Then there was me. I was a Hayes. I wore tatty clothes because I was forever helping Mum on the farm, and I wasn’t social. I was content with that.

  “You’ve never fucked a man,” he states, leaning closer. The seatbelt unclipping and loosening at my waist makes me inwardly jump, but I daren’t show him a reaction.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice.

  He rakes his eyes all over my face, a small smirk lifting his lips. “I want you. One time. No promises—no forever. Just tonight.”

  “What?” I gasp out, wondering, once again, if I heard him right.

  “I know you want me, too,” he says, his voice low and full of sex.

  I clench my thighs together and lift my chin up at him. “I may have had a crush on you in school, Landon, but I don’t have one now. It might come as a surprise to your ego, but not every girl will spread her legs for you.”

  I’m lying. He knows it; I know it. But he seems to like the challenge—if his expression is anything to go by.

  He leans in closer, his hand snaking around my waist to pull me closer to him. My breath hitches as I rest my hands on his bulging biceps.

  “You’re wet; I can smell your arousal from here,” he says, then brings his nose to my jaw, making his way to my ear. Need builds inside me, and I drop my head against his shoulder, turning to liquid at his words.

  “W-what?” I whisper weakly, needing the relief so badly.

  A squeal escapes my lips when he lifts me from my seat and over onto his lap. He leans down, his face pressing against my breasts, and then we’re moving. The chair slides back, giving me more room to straddle him, and my dress hitches higher up my thighs. When the seat is as far back as it will go, I press down on him. I moan, becoming delirious as I feel his hardness pressing against me.

  He feels big.

  “Tell me you want me, Paisley. I won’t touch you until you do,” he rasps out.

  All my feelings for him build up in that moment and explode. I throw myself at him, grabbing his face and bringing his lips to mine. Our teeth and tongues clash together, but I don’t let it stop me, kissing him with urgency.

  Moaning, I roll my hips down onto his lap. He growls, his hands running up my thighs, under his hoodie. He lifts my dress until it’s bunched around my waist, and if he pulls back, he’ll see the red underwear I put on this morning.

  “Fuck, you make me hard,” he grunts, his fingers teasing the edge of my knickers.

  His thumb brushes over my clit, and my hips buck as I throw my head back. The contact is already becoming too much, and then I hear the ripping sound of him tearing my knickers from my body, and I swear I have a mini orgasm.

  “I can smell you,” he growls into my ear, kissing my neck. His thumb rubs torturously over my clit while his other hand snakes up my stomach and to my chest, kneading my breast through my bra. I whimper, needing more.

  Feeling brave, I run my fingers down his chest to the button of his jeans. The second I touch his hard, ripped stomach, he groans, shoving my hands out of the way and freeing himself from his jeans.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t wait any longer. I need to be inside you,” he rasps out harshly.

  Nerves flitter through me, but I lean up on my knees, waiting for him to line himself up at my opening. His hands grip my hips, and in one fluid movement, he pulls me down onto his hardness. I cry out, feeling full, his hardness stretching me. There’s a slight burn, but I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

  When I tried this position with Adam, it felt awkward, and I hated how vulnerable and exposed I felt. At least lying on my back, lights off with the covers over us, I felt kind of protected in a way—covered.

  This, with Landon, is completely different. I still feel exposed, but in a sexy way. This time my vulnerability isn’t derived from being embarrassed or uncomfortable, it’s from knowing this is a one-time thing. Yet despite knowing this, I still feel comfortable in my own skin right now. Confident, even.

  The first time Adam and I had sex, it hurt like hell, and all I could do was cry. It’s why we agreed to try it the second time; to see if it got better.

  It didn’t.

  This kind of pain is something I could get used to, something I could crave.

  The third time we had sex was experimental; to make sure we hadn’t done anything wrong the first two times. It was something we were able to do because we’re such close friends. We can openly communicate honestly, even about sex. Well, except Landon. I just didn’t want Adam telling me everything I already knew: that I wasn’t good enough to catch the eye of the likes of Landon Carter.

  Landon glances up at me, and the heat behind his eyes has my stomach fluttering. He cups my face, bringing my lips down to his. I begin to move my hips, needing to chase the pleasure he’s promising. His hand on my hip helps guide me, moving me up and down as his tongue swirls against mine.

  I move until only the tip of him is left inside me and pause, before grinding down on him hard. A guttural groan escapes his luscious lips. I still for a moment, hoping I didn’t do something wrong, but when I open my eyes, his expression is filled with pleasure, and a wave of power and need overwhelms me.

  Emboldened, I move again, Landon’s ever strengthening grip helping me glide effortlessly up and down on his hardness. Every time he hits a spot deep inside me, I feel something coiling tighter, a wildness bursting to be free.

  Sweat beads at the back of my neck, the flutters in my stomach building and building. I bring my mouth to his again, our lips barely touching as I move harder and faster on top of him, going deeper each time. Puffs of air come out in small gasps as out lips mash together, not really kissing, but not separated either.

  “Oh God,” I cry out, gripping his shoulders.

  He begins to meet my thrusts, his movements jerky within the confines of the small space.

  “Fuck, I’m going to come soon,” he whispers harshly against my lips.

  Wetness pools between my legs at his words. I know I’m about to come; I can feel it building, and I ride him harder, needing that release like my life depends on it.

  His tongue runs up the side of my neck before he lightly bites down, and my core tightens. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes into me, causing me to cry out with ecstasy.

  Landon’s head snaps up at the feel of my core tightening around him. His eyes darken, and his thrusts become frantic. I’m still ridin
g out the aftershocks of my orgasm when he shoves his face into my neck, growling out his own release. His body shudders against mine, his thrusts slow and lazy.

  I just had sex with Landon Carter.

  Landon fucking Carter.

  And it was so good I could write about it. If I was a writer, that is. I practically purr inside when I rest my head against his.

  “That was… That was… Wow,” I breathe out, smiling against his temple. I lean back and reach for his lips, needing that touch. It’s something I always regretted with Adam. We didn’t love each other on a romantic level, so we didn’t cuddle or kiss afterwards.

  His kisses me back, his tongue strokes lazy, now taking his time.

  He rests his palm against my arm, gliding it up until he reaches the nape of my neck. I pull back, watching as an intense look passes over his expression, like he’s lost in some sort of deep thought.

  “Landon,” I whisper, feeling myself responding to his touch once again.

  He jumps, tensing beneath me. When his gaze meets mine, lust and desire are no longer present. Instead, he looks lost.

  “Get off me. I can’t do this,” he rasps out, pushing me back. The steering wheel digs into my back, and I wince.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, trying to get my leg out from under me. It’s stuck, wedged between the door and his large thigh.

  “Get off me!”

  Clearly not moving quick enough, he grips my hips and shoves me over to the other seat. I grip the headrest as a lump forms in the back of my throat.

  “Landon?” I whisper, hurriedly pulling my dress down. He finishes tucking himself in before gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white.

  I reach for him but his harsh voice has me pausing. “Don’t touch me. I need you to get out, Paisley.”

  “What did I do wrong? Talk to me,” I plead, my eyes watering.

  The dead expression that settles over his features has me feeling like something is crushing my chest. “I said get the fuck out of my car. Go! Go, Paisley. It was just a quick shag in the front seat of a car. What did you expect? Roses and chocolates?”

  I reach for my bag, tears streaming down my face as I swallow past the lump in my throat and look at him pleadingly, wanting him to tell me everything is okay. “Landon, please… talk to me.”

  His face turns red, and the veins in his arms, neck and temples pulse. “I said get out, Paisley! Get out!”

  Jumping at the harshness in his tone, I hurriedly pull the door handle. My fingers slip and I cry out, trying again.

  I fumble to get out of the car, nearly falling on my face. I hiccup, turning once more to Landon, hoping he can see how much he’s hurting me. Yet he’s not even looking at me, instead staring straight ahead, his jaw hard.

  He drives off, leaving the door to slam shut on its own, and I’m left watching his taillights disappear into the distance, feeling deflated and so confused.

  I straighten out my dress, more tears falling when I realise my knickers are still in his car.

  He left me.

  I sink to my knees as a wave of dizziness overwhelms me, a sob rumbling up my throat. I clutch my chest, feeling dirty and cheap.

  He left me.

  As I wait for the tears to subside, a wave of anger hits me. He never promised me tomorrow; he didn’t promise anything, made it clear he couldn’t. But to disregard me with such disrespect is something else entirely. I don’t deserve to be treated like that. He’s left me on the side of the road, with no knickers on and no answers for his behaviour.

  He isn’t who I thought he was.

  I should have listened to my brothers when they told me the Carter’s were players, that they only break girls’ hearts.

  The pulsing of my blood rushing through my veins subsides as I get up from the floor. I’m not one for pity parties, and I’m not one for feeling worthless. I don’t have time for it in my schedule.

  I’m certainly not going to let Landon Carter turn me into one of those girls. Yeah, it will hurt for a while, but I’ll push forward, like I always do.

  With that in mind, I begin my walk home, pretending my heart isn’t breaking.

  That I’m not still madly in love with Landon Carter—even more so now I know what it feels like to be with him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LANDON

  The crowd roars with victory as I step out of the circle after winning my third fight of the night. Blood, sweat, dirt and mould contaminate the air around me as I walk through the crowd to the locker room of the old, run-down gym.

  When Benny texted me where the fight would be tonight, I was grateful. I needed the release only fighting can give me right now.

  The old gym isn’t my favourite place to fight. Larkhill has that down since it’s out in the open and makes the fight a little tougher when the ground is uneven. But tonight, it’s chucking it down with rain, so I’m grateful they moved it here. Since my cousin had his baby a few months ago, he’s been on at us not to bring colds or anything around her. And as I’ve spent a lot of time with her, I don’t want to be the reason she becomes ill.

  The hinges on the locker room’s door squeak as I shove through them, the sound echoing down the halls.

  Heading over to my bag stowed under the bench, I grab some fresh tape. The bench creaks under my weight when I take a seat, making me tense.

  Fucker better not break on me.

  “Hey, man,” Benny calls out.

  I look up, giving him a chin lift. Benny is the one who helps keep The Circle—an underground fighting ring—going. He’s not the brains behind the whole organisation—no one believes that for a minute—but he’s who everyone goes to. He’s a middle man. He’s a bit slow, but an alright guy.

  “Listen, man, you’re one of my best fighters. You bring in a lot of money and the best crowd. Now, I’m not complaining here, but you’ve been taking on more fights the past couple of weeks.” I stare directly into his eyes, giving him a dry look.

  He shifts, uncomfortable at my silence. “Look, just tell me your head is in this. I don’t need any dead guys bringing shit to my doorstep.”

  I inwardly roll my eyes at his dramatics. “I’m good, Benny. Always am.”

  He snorts. “Yeah, you’re right. But you’ve been off lately, more aggressive. You nearly took that guy’s head off. And the next guy ain’t a walk in the park. He’s one of Rocco’s new fighters, meant to be fucking quick on his feet.”

  “Benny, what is it you actually want?”

  His grin spreads across his face, making him look goofy. “A blonde with double-Ds and a big motherfucking house with some maids.”

  I roll my eyes. “Not what I meant.”

  “I know. But didn’t think you’d appreciate me asking if you were okay. I thought you would have got the hint by now.”

  I grunt, concentrating on taking the tape off, my knuckles swollen and a little stiff. “I’m good.”

  He nods. “I’ll be back in five to tape your hands. No one with you tonight?”

  I shake my head. “Busy.”

  He doesn’t say anything else as he leaves me alone, which is what everyone has learned to do. I’m not really big on talking, and anyone other than my family piss me off, except Drew from the gym. He usually comes with me, especially since he found out about the fights. He’s tried to get me to quit, just like everyone else, but I need the peace fighting brings me, the calmness.

  Benny is right about one thing though: I’ve been taking on four, five fights a night, when normally it’s one or two at the most.

  It’s Paisley fucking Hayes. She got under my skin. For weeks she’s been all I can think about. She’s always stood out to me—I’d never deny that—but this time it’s different. It’s like I can smell her, taste her, even feel her.

  She made me forget; forget about the anger, the rage and grief inside me. Despite how ridiculous it sounds, since losing Freya, I’ve wanted to make the world hurt the way I hurt. I’ve wanted to punish myself for
not being there for her that night. But mostly, I’ve been angry at myself for not going to my uncle, to anyone, and telling them what I knew. But Freya had been stubborn and wouldn’t have forgiven me if I did.

  Then, nine weeks ago, Paisley walked out of the hospital and I wanted her. I hadn’t planned on fucking her. It’s just… whenever she’s around, everything settles. It doesn’t go, not completely, but I can control my pain.

  Fucking her had felt like a mistake, like I had cheated and failed Freya. Because in that moment, all I felt was Paisley. All I wanted was her; to hold her, to talk to her, to listen to her. I wanted it all.

  And I wanted her, again.

  It scared me, and I freaked out on her. I’ll never forget the look on her face when I snapped at her, like I had just crushed her entire world.

  After Freya’s death, I wasn’t intimate with anyone but my hand, until the need became too great and I sought out a willing woman to scratch the itch. They were faceless women, just someone I used, who used me in return.

  Until Paisley. She was all I could see.

  I’ve been wanting to see her, to apologise, but with her brothers, it’s hard to get to her, and I won’t be able to hold back if one of them says something. We come to blows pretty much every time we see each other.

  I’m a patient man, biding my time until the time is right. She won’t be waiting much longer. I don’t give a fuck if her brothers find out, and they will find out eventually; it’s a small town. She didn’t deserve the way I treated her.

  The door creaking open has me looking up. I groan when the four goons walk in like they’ve got missiles up their arses, their arms shaped like they’re carrying twenty shopping bags for their mum. Their intimidation skills need a lot of fucking work. They’re laughable.

  I dismiss them, grabbing a water bottle from my bag.

  “You know why we’re here,” Blaze, the only one with common sense in the group, says.

  I take a swig before glancing up, raising my eyebrow at him.

  Of course I know why they’re here. They’ve been hassling me all week to fix the fight, to lose.