One Night: A Real Man Read online

  One Night

  A Real Man

  Jenika Snow

  ONE NIGHT (A REAL MAN)

  By Jenika Snow

  www.JenikaSnow.com

  [email protected]

  Copyright © August 2020 by Jenika Snow

  First E-book Publication: August 2020

  Photo provided by: Adobe Stock

  Cover Designer: Lori Jackson

  Editor: Kayla Robichaux

  Proof Editor: All Encompassing Books

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  Epilogue Three

  About the Author

  We’d been friends nearly our entire lives.

  Only friends... at least on the outside. I always cared for Devon more than I should, wanted things with him that didn’t happen between “just friends.”

  Until one night of drinking changed that.

  I ended up in Devon’s bed after one too many drinks. I wished I could say I didn’t remember what we did and feign ignorance.

  But I knew.

  I remembered every passionate, heated moment. I remembered the way he touched me, the things he said to me in pleasure.

  Things were different between us now, weird, and so I stayed away, not wanting to make things worse.

  But it seemed fate had other plans for me... for us.

  I had a one-night stand with my best friend, and I had a secret that resulted from that encounter.

  I was pregnant with his baby.

  1

  Leila

  One more drink was going to be too much. I knew it, yet here I was bringing that glass to my lips and finishing off the beer in one swallow.

  “Shit, Ly, you’re gonna drink me under the table.”

  I felt my face flush, which had nothing to do with my best friend, Devon, teasing me, and everything to do with all the alcohol I’d been consuming. I should have slowed down, but I had a shit day, and the best remedy I thought of was getting piss-ass drunk with the only person who had always been there for me.

  “Whatever,” I said and leaned my shoulder against his playfully. God, he smelled really good, like that really good-smelling cologne boys used to wear in middle school, but with Devon, there was a touch of masculinity and being all-man mixed in.

  “It’s been a shit day, Devon.”

  He was silent for long moments, his focus intense as he stared at me. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

  I shrugged. I wanted to, but I was embarrassed, afraid of how Devon would react.

  He growled low in disapproval, and I rolled my eyes, a smirk starting to form on my lips.

  “I’ll be back. Gotta hit the little ladies’ room.”

  I snorted at the way he said it, but I couldn’t contain my grin. He watched me for a second, the amusement on his face slowly fading as something more serious covered his face. I swallowed, because I felt that look so deep it touched every part of me.

  “If anyone fucks with you, tell them I’ll kick their ass.” He gave me a wink, and I gave him an awkward chuckle.

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine. No one bothers me like that, Devon.”

  He stood and stared down at me for a second, the playfulness back on his face. I watched as he headed toward the bathroom. Daphne’s Bar and Grill was packed shoulder-to-shoulder despite it being a Thursday night.

  Devon was tall and muscular, a businessman in every sense of the word. But when he wasn’t in the office delegating jobs, helping to run a big company in the small town of Hadensville, he was just my best friend who knew me better than I knew myself. He was the guy who got dirty because he helped me garden, unafraid to sweat or get a sunburn because he was outside all day.

  He might wear a suit during the day, commanding and dominating people in his daily life, but after office hours, he always threw on a pair of faded jeans and an old shirt, and was the type of man who’d give you the clothes off his back.

  The white T-shirt and jeans he wore fit him perfectly, formed to his muscular, masculine body, yet were loose enough it didn’t look like he was busting out of them from all that alpha strength he exuded.

  I exhaled roughly at the thought of him doing all kinds of inappropriate things to me. It was hard to be around him and keep things on a purely friendly level. I hated it, but I knew it was essential. Anything more, as in telling him how I felt, could be disastrous. And he was all I had, so risking that was not an option.

  It wasn’t as if I could tell anyone how I felt, especially not my family. My parents were too focused on their own lives to worry about their grown-ass daughter and who she loved.

  Besides, I wasn’t exactly close with them, couldn’t tell them how I felt. Hell, I hadn’t even told my mother when I started my period at the age of thirteen. That’s how not close we were.

  And friends? I laughed at that. I kept to myself, and the only real friend I had was Devon. Everyone else was either a coworker—or they had been before I lost my job—or acquaintances.

  And as I looked around the bar, saw how packed it was, it seemed like a lot of people were having a shitty day just like me.

  I pushed my beer glass aside and placed my elbows on the table, resting my head in my hands and closing my eyes as I exhaled. I was getting tipsy, feeling that liquid courage move through me. I lifted my head and stared in the direction Devon had left. I felt things I probably shouldn’t for him, things that “just friends” didn’t feel for each other.

  I’d known him nearly my entire life, being transplanted into this town when I was just ten—thirteen years ago—and Devon was immediately there to take me under his wing.

  And if I were being honest, I had feelings for him as soon as he’d given me his adolescent, goofy smile, as soon as I felt that protective bond with him. He looked after me, didn’t let anyone mess with me or tease me. He made sure I was accepted no matter what. And if someone bullied me, picked on me, hell, if a guy showed interest in me, Devon made sure it was known that there would be repercussions.

  And that was in the form of him kicking their ass.

  We’d become inseparable.

  And as time passed, as we finished high school, went off to college, we’d grown, matured. Our relationship changed, evolved. At least it had for me. It had changed so much. I saw him as something so much… more.

  And I was willing to suffer in silence, to never tell him how I felt, because that would do no good. He’d never shown any interest in me in that way, in a way that would give me a little bit of hope and courage to spill the beans, so to speak, but sometimes things were just better
left unsaid.

  So when the waitress came by to clear the table of the empty beer bottles and glasses, I ordered two more shots. Maybe he’d drink one, and if not, that was okay, because I’d down them both and ask for more.

  I planned on getting wasted, because not only was my day shitty, and not only was I laid off, but I was also harboring some deep freaking love for a man I’d never have.

  And as much as I wanted to just be honest with Devon and tell him why my day sucked, I was embarrassed. How did you tell your best friend that you lost your job because you wouldn’t sleep with your boss? And knowing Devon, he’d probably want to confront Logan Frank—meaning kick his ass.

  Logan Frank, the man who tried everything to get between my legs, and after my repeated denials, he fabricated a story that I couldn’t do my job properly, and therefore I was laid off.

  It was shitty all around.

  Thankfully, I had some money saved up, but that would only last so long—meaning a couple months tops. After that, I didn’t know what I’d do. It wasn’t like the jobs in town were bursting at the seams.

  I exhaled, feeling sorry for myself. I took one of the shots the waitress deposited on the table, tossing it back and sputtering as the burn traveled down my throat.

  Yup, getting good and trashed sounded like the perfect thing to do tonight.

  2

  Devon

  I braced my hands on the edge of the bathroom counter and hung my head, breathing out slowly. It was absolute hell being here with Leila, acting like we were just friends, like I didn’t want to kick every fucker’s ass who even looked her way.

  But I was pretty proud of myself for keeping my shit under control. I didn’t know what caused her to want to go out tonight and clearly get wasted, especially on a Thursday, but it didn’t matter. When Leila called, I dropped whatever I was doing, and I was there for her. That’s how it always was, and that’s how it always would be.

  The last guy in the bathroom left, and I looked at the now closed door. I turned my focus to the mirror in front of me, stared at my reflection. I had it bad for Leila, not just that I wanted to possess every inch of her body, but because I loved her more than life itself.

  I shook my head and closed my eyes again, knowing this was just how it had to be. We were friends, and that was that. That’s how our story was written.

  After washing my hands and heading back toward the table, every part of my body froze, every muscle inside me tightening as I saw some guy standing by the table, talking to her.

  I remembered the expression on her face, the way she’d been talking so animatedly when I’d been sitting beside her, and the fact that she’d been drinking the beers faster than they’d shown up, and I knew she was already getting tipsy.

  And being a man and knowing how men were, especially drunk and in a bar scenario, I could only assume what that little prick was after. Leila was too innocent, almost naïve in how guys were and what they wanted. And the only thing that little asshole wanted was to get between her thighs. And that was never going to fucking happen.

  I didn’t even try to hide the fact that I’d let a growl out, like I was some kind of territorial animal. But where Leila was concerned, I was possessive of her. I wanted her time, her attention, every single aspect of her as only mine. It was selfish, given the fact that we were just friends, but there was no way I could try to stop myself.

  It was this feeling inside me that consumed every single inch of my body, going right down to my very DNA. I couldn’t have stopped how I felt, how I acted with her, even if my life depended on it. I strode back to the table, or more accurately, stalked toward them.

  My focus was trained right on the clearly inebriated man who was now leaning over the table, his hands braced on the top, his face far too close to Leila’s for my liking.

  She was leaned back as far as she could, clearly not liking his close proximity. So when I was right next to him, I didn’t even stop myself from reaching out and curling my fingers around his arm, forcing him back, and feeling pride when he stumbled backward. His eyes went wide, as he was clearly surprised by my sudden actions.

  I let another low growl leave me and saw the way his throat worked, his flight-or-fight instantly going to flight mode. I was bigger than him, stronger. But he was smart, even while drunk, because he mumbled his apologies, that he didn’t know she was taken.

  She’s mine.

  Those two words played through my head over and over again.

  I watched him the whole time he moved farther from us, made sure he was far enough away for my liking before I finally turned my attention to Leila. She looked at me with wide eyes, although I knew it wasn’t a surprise how I acted. I’d been going all caveman since the first time we met.

  I chalked it up to being an overly protective best friend, someone who was just “looking out for her.” And of course that was the truth as well, but it was also because I was selfish of her, wanted her for only myself.

  Because I’d wanted her as mine for longer than I’d ever admit.

  I sat down, and I knew I had a scowl on my face. It wasn’t directed at her. I was jealous and annoyed by that drunken asshole.

  Normally, the testosterone was flowing heavily though me, especially when I thought about Leila. But I’d had a couple beers already, and that meant it was really fucking potent in my veins, my possessive, territorial need for her off the fucking charts.

  I was insanely jealous when it came to Leila.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re grumpy all of a sudden because some drunk came over and thought he actually had a chance.” She was definitely tipsy. I could tell by the rosiness in her cheeks.

  I shrugged. I had nothing to say, because I was grumpy, but not because of the drunk. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her why my attitude had soured so fast.

  I looked over at the little asshole who’d been talking to her. He moved on to his next potential piece of ass, and the growl left me again. I felt Leila looking at me, but instead of saying anything—because honestly, I should’ve been embarrassed by the way I was acting—I reached out for the shot sitting in the center of the table and downed it. I gestured for the waitress to bring another round. If Leila was going to get drunk, then so was I.

  We could be sloppy and irresponsible together tonight.

  I glanced at her and saw she still watched me, this curiosity on her face.

  “Are you gonna tell me why you wanted to come out tonight and why you’re tossing back the liquor?” She glanced away, and I knew it had to be something that would probably piss me off if she was clamming up the way she was. “Leila, I want to know what’s going on. The fact that you don’t want to tell me lets me know it’s probably going to piss me off.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, and the waitress had time to come back and set two more shots down in front of us. I picked mine up and tossed it back, and Leila did the same a second later. Then she exhaled, leaned back in the seat, and I could tell she wasn’t just concerned to tell me, she was also embarrassed.

  “I got fired today, Devon.” She let those words hang in the air between us, but I knew that wasn’t just it, so I waited until she told me the whole thing. “I didn’t get fired because I couldn’t do my job.” There was a long pause. “I got fired, because I wouldn’t fuck the boss.”

  It took a second for those words to really to sink in, to penetrate my slower alcohol-soaked brain, but when they did, these filthy fucking degrading images crossed through my mind. I saw fucking red.

  I gnashed my teeth together, curled my hands into tight fists on top of the table, and leaned in close. “Did he fucking touch you?” Those words were nothing but a distorted growl from me, but Leila didn’t seem fazed at all.

  She leaned forward as well, her knuckles brushing against mine, her skin warm and smooth, her hands half the size of mine. She was tiny, and the fact that someone tried to take advantage of her, fired her because she wouldn’t put out, had me wan
ting to go kick his ass.

  “No, but I have no doubt that was what it would have led to.”

  I breathed out slowly, feeling so pissed I could’ve spit nails, but I didn’t want to make a scene. I didn’t want Leila to feel any worse than she did.

  Tonight wasn’t about this; it was about obviously letting Leila let loose enough she wasn’t weighed down by these problems.

  “Then let’s drink up so we forget about this night, yeah?”

  She gave me a smile so fucking sweet it made my heart hurt.

  If she wanted to get piss-ass drunk, so be it. Because I’d be right there with her to make sure she was safe doing it.

  3

  Devon

  I told the cab driver to just go to my house. Leila could crash in my bed, and I’d take the couch, but I didn’t want her to be alone tonight, especially since we’d been drinking and she clearly had an awful day.

  I paid the driver, probably more than what was owed, but everything was blurry, my vision doubling. But I felt pretty fucking good.

  We all but stumbled out of the cab, and I walked around the front of the car. I took Leila’s hand in mine, not only because I wanted to keep her steady, but just because I wanted to touch her, and together we headed to the front door.

  Booze was a bad combination with my desire for her, amplifying it tenfold, which was pretty fucking insane as it was. She was giggling, continuously bumping into me, and she couldn’t catch her footing. I slid my hand around her waist and curled my fingers into her soft body, pulling her in close. I fished my keys out of the front pocket of my jeans, unlocked the door, and kicked it open.