Off Limits Read online

  Off Limits

  Honey London

  Off Limits

  Copyright © 2020 by Honey London

  Smashwords Edition

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  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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  The author has asserted her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book. The author can be reached at [email protected]

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  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. It contains sex acts between consenting adults, and all characters represented within are eighteen years of age or older. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  1

  Everett

  “Penny for your thoughts, darling?”

  Jack slid his gaze away from the window, where he’d been watching the snow-frosted countryside glide by for the better part of two hours, the only sounds around us the soft clacking of the train on its tracks. He turned his head and gave me a manufactured smile, the plastic one he used all too often, even with me, despite all the work I’d put in to break through his shell.

  I furrowed my brow the exact amount to convey loving concern and gently ran my thumb across his cheek. “What's wrong, Jack?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Then why do you look like you have just lost your best mate?”

  “I'm just a little anxious. I haven't been home in a while.” He returned his gaze to the scenery speeding by.

  I chuckled, masking my irritation. “You’re bringing me home to meet your mum and dad… Aren't I the one who is supposed to be nervous?” I placed my hands on his shoulders and adjusted his body so he was leaning with his back against my chest, and we were both facing the train’s large window.

  His body stiffened for just a moment, before he sighed and leaned into me – a good sign.

  “Tell me about them,” I whispered in his ear.

  He tried to turn to look me in the face but I held him tightly. “I've already told you about them,” he said softly.

  Getting Jack to speak about himself was as easy as getting blood from a stone. I honestly didn’t even know he had any family until a week before, when I’d walked in on him on the phone.

  “Mom, I can’t.” He’d run a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry… I have too much going on here.” Pause. “I know.” A sigh. “Okay, I’ll try.” Another pause. “Mom, I said I’ll try. It’s the best I can do.”

  After he hung up, I’d opened my mouth to ask if everything was okay, but he didn’t let me get a word out. “I have to go home.”

  “To California?” It struck me that I wasn’t even sure if that was where he was from. I had just assumed since he’d spent his freshman and sophomore years at the Bevins University main campus, just north of Sacramento.

  He nodded and rubbed his palm against his temple. “My mom is pretty insistent that I make it home for the holidays this year.”

  I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “So, we’ll go. I’ve always wanted to visit the States.” My phrasing was absolutely strategic. Jack had a way of keeping me at arm’s length emotionally, and I knew if I had asked to go, he’d have said no. But making the assumption that we’d go together while not making eye contact yielded me the result I wanted.

  He was quiet for a few long moments before giving me a reluctant “okay.”

  Now, a handful of minutes until I actually met my boyfriend’s family, I was trying to squeeze a bit more information out of Jack. I was not a man who went into situations unprepared.

  “Tell me more. I want to make a good impression.”

  “I’m sure they’ll love you.”

  “Because you love me?” I teased.

  “Well, no, but their standards aren’t as high as mine.”

  I laughed, squeezing his shoulders, but not quite certain that he was kidding. “Come on. I didn’t even know you had a family until two weeks ago… how am I supposed to butter them up with flattery and shared interests if I don’t know what they like?”

  Jack rolled his eyes, but he indulged me. “Hmm,” he mused. “What else can I tell you?” He sat in silence for a few moments and I carded my fingers through his dark, wavy hair. “Have I told you about my mom’s obsession with cooking shows yet?”

  He had. “No, tell me.”

  “Well, that’s pretty much it. She likes cooking shows.”

  I laughed. “Okay. What else?”

  “Well, you know my dad is into model trains.”

  I nodded, my cheek ruffling his hair. “Yes,” I said somberly. “I have studied model trains extensively. I am prepared for this conversation.”

  “Well, he also likes actual trains.”

  “What? And you're just telling me now?” I kept my voice light, but there was a thread of fire burning through me. I needed to make a good impression on Jackson’s parents, with any luck, I’d have a ring on his finger by New Year’s Eve, but I bit back my anger at his omission of this crucial fact. “I don't know anything about actual trains.”

  He chuckled dryly. “Well, you know how to ride on them,” he said, gesturing to our surroundings.

  I snorted.

  “They're just like model trains,” he said, patting my hand, “only bigger.”

  “Well, I'll never learn enough facts about actual trains in the next sixty minutes to be sufficiently impressive. That's it.” I shrugged, playing it off as a joke. “Your father is obviously going to hate me.” I felt Jack’s body shake as he tried to silence his laughter.

  “Probably. That's what you get for being unprepared.”

  I caught Jack’s smirk in the window reflection and he settled into me a little more. That was fine. He could be a smug little shit as long as he was in my arms.

  “Well, at least give me some more background so I’m not going into this train conversation completely blind. Which came first? The big trains or the little trains?”

  Jack’s eyes flutter closed as I resumed lightly running my hand through his soft hair, tracing gently circles on his scalp. “I'm not sure. Honestly, I don't remember anything about trains before the time he took Christian and I to Robison Station.”

  “Wait…” I searched my brain. “Who's Christian?”

  Jackson’s entire body turned to stone under my touch. He was silent for what felt like minutes before he cleared his throat. “He’s my brother.”

  Those three tiny words hung between us like a puff of warm breath in frigid January air. I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel the tension radiating from him, muscles taut, breathing shallow.

  The thread of fire burned brighter, white hot flames trying to escape from inside me. Just how much critical information had he kept from me? I kept my tone gentle, but there was no wa
y I wasn’t asking my next question. “How did I not know you have a brother, Jack?”

  He remained silent as I held him, brain spinning. I wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. His body language told me this was a sensitive subject, but I had to know. I had to know everything about Jack. He didn’t talk much about anything personal, but even so, how had the fact that he had a brother never come up?

  He sighed. “Because I’ve never mentioned him.”

  “Are you two not close?”

  His voice was strained through his sad little chuckle. “We used to be… We had a bit of a falling out.”

  It made sense why he wouldn’t have mentioned an estranged brother. “Well, tell me about him.”

  Jack squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s a student at Bevins. The California campus.”

  “Is he a communications major, too?”

  “No.” Jack chuckled. “He’s infinitely smarter than I am – Christian is a tech major. He’s always been amazing with computers.”

  I waited for him to continue, knowing that he wouldn’t. “Well,” I prodded, “don’t leave me hanging. What’s he like?”

  Jack was quiet before he let out a long, slow, surrendering breath. “He’s the sweetest person in the world.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that…. I think you’re pretty sweet.” A small smile played at the corners of my lips.

  Jack snorted. “Yeah, I’m not. And even if I were, Christian is…” He seemed to search for the right words. “He is kind to a fault. He trusts everyone and sees nothing but the good in people. He has so much empathy for others that he gets sick watching boxing on TV.”

  I wanted to interrupt with a question, but Jack was sharing more with me now than he had in our ten months of dating, and I wasn’t going to say anything that might make him close up again.

  “He once cried for a week after a neighborhood cat was hit by a car, and then visited the woman who lived next door to us every day for months afterward to cheer her up. In high school, he’d been saving his allowance for a car, but when a classmate’s house burned down, Christian spearheaded a donation drive. He started the collection with every cent that he’d saved for almost two years.”

  I furrowed my brow but said nothing.

  Jack chuckled, a small, sad sound. “So, yeah. He is better than me in basically every way.”

  My mind was spinning. To not know Jack even had a brother, and then to learn he was the love child of Steve Jobs and Mother Theresa? “He sounds better than everyone in basically every way.”

  Jack’s voice was a whisper. “He is.”

  I knew I shouldn’t ask, but the curiosity was killing me. “So, what happened between you two?”

  Jack sat up and pulled himself away. “This is our stop.” He stood slowly and started to gather his things, making it very clear the conversation was over.

  After our talk about his brother, Jack was silent on the short Uber ride to his home. No surprise there. He’d been quiet since we’d gotten on the plane at Heathrow. I had no idea what the reason was behind his anxiety, but now I suspected it had something to do with seeing his brother again for the first time in over a year.

  I was fine with the silence, it gave me more time to focus on my plan. I kept my gaze trained on Jack as he stared pensively out the window. It was honestly not fair how breathtakingly beautiful he was. The instant I’d seen him, I knew he would be mine. At thirty-six, my parents had been putting pressure on me to settle down for years. I honestly had no interest in getting married, what was the point? Variety was the spice of life, after all. When a senior partner in my firm told me I’d been passed over for a promotion because they were really looking for a “family man,” I’d left the office barely controlling my outrage. I’d met Jack that day on the tube on my way home and set my sights on him. He was gorgeous and exactly my favorite type – slight and wide-eyed, a college student studying abroad for the first time. And now, ten months later, I was on my way to meet his parents.

  We pulled into the driveway of a large colonial-style home and as I climbed out of the rideshare, I took in the tasteful holiday decor adorning the exterior. White lights, red bows, very classic. I helped Jack get his bag out of the boot of the car, then grabbed my two cases. I’d felt self-conscious bringing so much when I saw Jack only had a medium-sized duffel, but we were planning to be here with his family for a large part of the break. There was no way I could pack for three weeks in a carry-on.

  Jack opened the front door and I followed him closely as he stepped inside. The house was warm and the smell of gingerbread and pine tree was cloying.

  “Mom?” He called loudly, unwrapping his long scarf from around his neck. “We’re here.”

  A squeal accompanied a flurry of excitement as a short woman with eyes the deep blue of a stormy ocean bounced into the room.

  “My baby is back!” She flew to Jackson and threw her arms around him.

  He chuckled and returned the embrace. “Hi, Mom.”

  After several long moments, they separated and the woman’s smile reached from one of her Santa Claus earrings to the other. “Wayne! Christian! Jack’s home!”

  She enveloped him in another hug and Jack laughed, eyes bright for the first time in days.

  I considered stepping up to introduce myself but decided to hang back. Interrupting this little family reunion probably wouldn’t make a great first impression.

  “Jack!” A man, not much taller than Jack’s mom, stepped into the room and took his turn at a hug, this one much quicker. “It’s good to see you!” he said, before both of Jack’s parents turned to me, and I figured it was time to exchange pleasantries.

  “Everett, these are my parents, Cindy and Wayne.” Jack gestured to me. “And this is Everett.”

  I extended my hand but was pulled into two separate hugs.

  “We are so delighted to meet you, Everett. We had no idea Jack was seeing anyone!”

  Oh, really? Well, that’s interesting.

  “How was your trip?” his mother asked before yelling again. “Christian! Come say hello!”

  Jack sighed. “It was long.”

  “Well, dinner is almost ready, would you two like to go freshen up?”

  “That’s probably not a bad idea,” I said, turning to face Jack. “Should we get our bags out of the foyer?”

  Jack’s face was colorless, his usually pink cheeks ashen, and his eyes were wild and unfocused, trained at some point over my shoulder.

  Before I could ask him if he was feeling all right, a small voice came from behind me.

  “Hey, Jackie.”

  I turned to see Christian standing half in a doorway and I couldn’t hold back a small gasp.

  Bloody hell. They weren’t just brothers, they were identical fucking twins.

  2

  Jackson

  I had been taking deep breaths since we’d arrived, trying to steady my nerves and prepare myself, which proved worthless the instant my eyes settled on Christian. My breath caught sharply in my throat, as my eyes roamed over his body, gazing for the first time in over a year at their one true obsession. I had to physically restrain myself from rushing over to him, wrapping my sweet brother in my arms, and kissing the worried look off of his beautiful face.

  No, Jackson, I chastised myself. That’s not how this is going to be. I refused to let all of my efforts the past year have been for nothing. I would maintain my resolve, I would be strong. I had to. For my brother.

  “Hey, Christian,” I said, making my voice friendly but neutral, praying no one could tell I was six seconds from falling apart.

  My stomach clenched as I watched him tremble, almost imperceptibly. Christian’s fingers were twitching, as if they were unconsciously reaching out to me. Even after everything that happened, everything I’d done, his body still wanted to be close to mine.

  Christian had always been a physical child, especially with me. Hugs and kisses were how he showed people he loved the
m, and how he wanted to be loved. As toddlers, we were inseparable. We played all day or snuggled up with books, whispering to each other in made-up languages. Christian always wanted to be touching me.

  Everyone cooed over us. Aren’t they precious? They didn’t know that me holding his hand was the only way to get Christian to interact with people outside of our family.

  I realized Christian was a walking ball of tension as soon as I could process that kind of cognitive thought, but it took longer for our parents to notice. His social anxiety knotted him up inside even in grade school, and the only way I knew to comfort him, to get him to relax was to touch him. If we were in the same room, I made it a point to sit close to him, rub his back or hold his hand.

  As we got older, people didn’t think our constant physical affection was quite so cute anymore. Mom and Dad never made us feel badly about our relationship – they loved that we were best friends – but relatives, neighbors, teachers… they all started voicing their concerns to our parents.

  “Don’t you think the boys are a little too close?” they’d ask, voices lowered but not enough so that we couldn’t hear them shaming us for not fitting neatly inside whatever box they wanted us in. My parents were polite, but firm in their support of our closeness. I never cared what anyone fucking said, and I told Christian that frequently. There was nothing wrong with our relationship.

  That was true for almost twenty years.

  And now, as I stared into my brother’s eyes, I was falling off a cliff but never hitting bottom.

  Christian stood awkwardly to the side of the room, rubbing the palm of one hand with the thumb of the other, and my heartbeat went into overdrive. Our secret sign.