the scent of him. I’d made sure to tell Lidia, his housekeeper, to never wash his sheets. She’d done it anyway, until I finally explained that I liked them to smell like him. I honestly think she only stopped washing them because she felt sorry for me.
I forced my eyes to open. The light pouring into Derek's room was blinding to my unadjusted eyes. I was so sleepy. I shut my eyes for another second, enjoying the feeling of the mattress and blankets, soft against my weak, sleepy body.
The only sound was the low roar of the fan in the corner. I always turned it on when Derek was gone to drown out the quiet of the apartment. I reached out under the empty blankets, wishing Derek was there to cuddle up to. I sighed at how lonely the room immediately felt, and then I decided to get the day started. No since in moping; I'd see him soon enough.
I slipped Derek's t-shirt over my head and headed to the kitchen for breakfast before work. I made it halfway down the hall when I heard a loud moan followed by another. My eyes immediately went to the sofa, where I caught the side profile of a completely naked blonde woman straddling a man’s lap, her hands gripped on his shoulders as she bounced rhythmically on his lap, moaning and screaming in pleasure.
She was groping her obviously fake breasts, and his fingers were dug into her hips as he guided her on and off of him. He was clearly enjoying himself; his head was thrown back against the sofa, eyes squinted shut, a wry smirk on his lips…his very familiar lips.
"Derek!" I screeched. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
It took a few seconds—painful, angry seconds—but the whore in my fiancé’s lap finally stopped and scrambled off of him, gathering her clothes quickly, but she hardly looked embarrassed. In fact, she looked extremely irritated that she’d been interrupted.
Derek stood up, and I eyed his tattoos. One ran up his right side, which looked like large, old, leafless trees, and one sleeved his left arm in sketchy words from his mid forearm to his shoulder; I assumed they were lyrics or quotes, maybe. They were both gray wash and extremely sexy.
"Oh God…" I said as it sank in. He casually stuffed himself back into his jeans, and I covered my mouth with both hands as I realized that it wasn't Derek at all. Derek didn’t have tattoos . "I'm so sorry!" I threw my hands up to shield my eyes from what we both knew I'd already seen. "Y-you're Derek's brother!"
The blonde sauntered past me and opened the door. "I'll call you," she said over her shoulder to Beck and slammed the door behind her.
He jerked his head toward the door and then in my direction. "She doesn't have my number," he said, cutting his eyes back over at the door as if she'd been crazy for even suggesting such a thing. “There’s no way she has my number,” he clarified.
"I am so sorry! I-I didn't realize—"
"It’s okay," he laughed, and I lowered my hand when I noticed he was decent. Shirtless …but decent. "I'm Beck." He walked over to me with his hand out, and I shook it, embarrassed.
Not much embarrassed me, and I don't think I'd have been nearly as embarrassed then, had I not yelled at him, thinking he was my fiancé cheating on me.
"You're…Lissa, right?"
I nodded.
“Sorry about that," he said with a charming smile. "I came in early this morning, and I guess I didn't realize anyone was here…"
"No, it's okay." It really didn’t bother me. I’d seen much worse than two people screwing on a sofa. I glanced over him, trying not to be obvious. He looked just like Derek. I knew they were identical…but it was weird… weirder than I thought it would be .
He was every inch of six feet, like Derek. He was head-to-toe muscle in that subtle, attractive way, like Derek. His smile was sexy, like Derek’s. His eyebrows were thick and his face was clean shaven, like Derek’s. He was
I forced my eyes to open. The light pouring into Derek's room was blinding to my unadjusted eyes. I was so sleepy. I shut my eyes for another second, enjoying the feeling of the mattress and blankets, soft against my weak, sleepy body.
The only sound was the low roar of the fan in the corner. I always turned it on when Derek was gone to drown out the quiet of the apartment. I reached out under the empty blankets, wishing Derek was there to cuddle up to. I sighed at how lonely the room immediately felt, and then I decided to get the day started. No since in moping; I'd see him soon enough.
I slipped Derek's t-shirt over my head and headed to the kitchen for breakfast before work. I made it halfway down the hall when I heard a loud moan followed by another. My eyes immediately went to the sofa, where I caught the side profile of a completely naked blonde woman straddling a man’s lap, her hands gripped on his shoulders as she bounced rhythmically on his lap, moaning and screaming in pleasure.
She was groping her obviously fake breasts, and his fingers were dug into her hips as he guided her on and off of him. He was clearly enjoying himself; his head was thrown back against the sofa, eyes squinted shut, a wry smirk on his lips…his very familiar lips.
"Derek!" I screeched. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
It took a few seconds—painful, angry seconds—but the whore in my fiancé’s lap finally stopped and scrambled off of him, gathering her clothes quickly, but she hardly looked embarrassed. In fact, she looked extremely irritated that she’d been interrupted.
Derek stood up, and I eyed his tattoos. One ran up his right side, which looked like large, old, leafless trees, and one sleeved his left arm in sketchy words from his mid forearm to his shoulder; I assumed they were lyrics or quotes, maybe. They were both gray wash and extremely sexy.
"Oh God…" I said as it sank in. He casually stuffed himself back into his jeans, and I covered my mouth with both hands as I realized that it wasn't Derek at all. Derek didn’t have tattoos . "I'm so sorry!" I threw my hands up to shield my eyes from what we both knew I'd already seen. "Y-you're Derek's brother!"
The blonde sauntered past me and opened the door. "I'll call you," she said over her shoulder to Beck and slammed the door behind her.
He jerked his head toward the door and then in my direction. "She doesn't have my number," he said, cutting his eyes back over at the door as if she'd been crazy for even suggesting such a thing. “There’s no way she has my number,” he clarified.
"I am so sorry! I-I didn't realize—"
"It’s okay," he laughed, and I lowered my hand when I noticed he was decent. Shirtless …but decent. "I'm Beck." He walked over to me with his hand out, and I shook it, embarrassed.
Not much embarrassed me, and I don't think I'd have been nearly as embarrassed then, had I not yelled at him, thinking he was my fiancé cheating on me.
"You're…Lissa, right?"
I nodded.
“Sorry about that," he said with a charming smile. "I came in early this morning, and I guess I didn't realize anyone was here…"
"No, it's okay." It really didn’t bother me. I’d seen much worse than two people screwing on a sofa. I glanced over him, trying not to be obvious. He looked just like Derek. I knew they were identical…but it was weird… weirder than I thought it would be .
He was every inch of six feet, like Derek. He was head-to-toe muscle in that subtle, attractive way, like Derek. His smile was sexy, like Derek’s. His eyebrows were thick and his face was clean shaven, like Derek’s. He was