Beyond Layers: Layer Series Book Four (Layers Series 4) by TL Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

bed with Janet and it feels so… wrong. Before I know it, tears cloud my vision, and I don’t need a visit to a shrink to get why this is bothering me so much.
    You see, I don’t share. It’s just not in my DNA. And Lane, well… he wanted to share me. We were living in London at the time, and I’d had a long day dealing with womanizing asshole contractors. Needless to say, I was in a horrible mood. All I wanted to do when I got home was pour a glass of pinot, take a long hot bath, and go to bed. When I walked into our flat, I heard laugher. I thought it was the TV. But to my surprise and chagrin, Lane was entertaining a couple he’d met at the pub, just down the street. He introduced us and I didn’t think any of it. But as I was handing the man a glass of wine, he ran his hand up my skirted thigh. When I finally got Lane’s attention away from the woman, I dragged him to our bedroom. “What the hell is going on?” I asked him.
    He gave me his signature cheeky dimpled grin. “I wanted to surprise you.”
     
    “Surprise me?” I asked, not liking the look in his eyes.
     
    “Remember we talked about hooking up with another couple?”
     
    I remember feeling horrified and utterly dejected. “Yes, I remember. And I also remember telling you it wasn’t a fantasy I could fulfill.”
     
    He’d just laughed it off, thinking I was just fooling with him, or he could change my mind. But he couldn’t have been more wrong, and I couldn’t have been more hurt.
     
    “Come on, baby,” he said. “It will be fun. I had Lee check them out. They’re sexy and hot. Don’t you think?” he said, trailing his lips down my neck.
     
    I was wrong, thinking I’d reached my hurt plateau. “You had Lee check them out?” I asked, feeling my body shake and flush with anger and embarrassment. “What the fuck, Lane? I don’t want to hook-up with another couple. Just the thought of another woman’s hands on you makes me ill.”
     
    He frowned. “You’re serious.”
     
    “Couldn’t be more.”
     
    The look of utter disappointment that flashed across his eyes wrecked me.
     
    “I’m sorry,” he said, but it clearly wasn’t heartfelt. “My bad.”
     
    I looked into the eyes of the man who’d been my lover and best friend for three years. A man whom I cherished, a man I’d never share. “Lane, I can’t believe you’d want to share me. I would never share you, ever.”
     
    “Okay, I got it. My bad,” he said and walked away, and out of our flat, the hot, sexy hook-up trailing behind.
    Something happened to me that night, something fractured deep within me. I wanted to forget about the whole thing, tried to let it go, telling myself I was being small, petty, and silly even. After all, nothing happened. But I couldn’t let it go, couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made me feel used, cheap, generic, when I wanted to feel cherished, unique, and claimed. Two days later, he’d gotten down on his knee and proposed. I knew the proposal was true and he loved me. However, we’d talked about marriage and agreed we weren’t ready. He knew he’d hurt me and I knew his proposal was his way of trying to mend us, bandage up the open wound he’d created between us. Knowing that I truly loved him, and being a coward, I opened up my heart and said yes, even though I knew things between us would never be the same. The next day I received a call from my grandmother; my sister had been gravely injured in a horse-riding accident. Months later, Lane was dead and the guilt I felt was overwhelming, consuming me alive. I hadn’t been truthful with him, hadn’t loved him in a way he deserved. Thinking about him and us is something that festers and eats away at my soul, a bit each day.
    Wiping my useless tears away, I get up and walk back into the house. I need to move on from my past and from these stupid and unwarranted feelings I have for a man I barely know. You have tons of work to do anyway, girlfriend, I tell myself.
    I