37
Brent
Once upon a time, I let work get in the way.
I let my desire to get ahead push me into corners.
I made choices I regretted.
I didn’t do enough, say enough, fight hard enough.
I wasn’t that twenty-two-year-old anymore.
I knew what I wanted. I knew what I needed. I needed her.
And that was why I left New York after lunch. As soon as I’d gotten off the phone with her after seeing Alan and Tanner, I made a choice.
Go to her.
Because she wasn’t herself.
I could feel it.
I could tell. I’d been able to tell since our call after my lunch.
And I wasn’t going to let her slip through my fingers.
No way.
She’d once gotten on a plane to fly from London to LA to surprise me. Now I was headed home early to surprise her.
To make sure she was okay.
And when I landed, and the shuttle was rattling through the airport, she called.
And, as I suspected, she tried to push me away.
Saying she was baggage.
Saying she was damaged goods.
Saying she’d bring me down.
No.
No way.
As soon as I got off the tram and service came back, I called her again. She didn’t answer.
But I knew where she was.
My club.
I’d be there in mere minutes.
38
Shannon
The lithe, pretzel-like redhead swung upside down on the gauzy swath of fabric that hung from the ceiling of Edge in a room that wasn’t in use tonight. Her hair spilled below her like a sheet of fire, as she held on with only one ankle twisted around the cloth.
As the lush music pulsed, she twirled in gorgeous circles, captivating me with her contortionist skills.
I zoomed in on her with my phone camera, capturing Cassidy’s finale of the dress rehearsal as she curved her body into impossible shapes. Then, along with a trio of other dancers, she slid in a wild rush upside down to the floor. I stopped recording and clapped proudly.
Cassidy flashed me the bright, magnetic smile of an entertainer who’d nailed it.
“You were amazing,” I told her, grateful that I could do this—my job—without fear. That I could choreograph shows without worrying too much. Everything else I wasn’t so sure about. “Absolute perfection. No changes.”
“Thank you, Shay. I’m so happy you liked it,” the girl said, beaming as she and the other dancers took off for the dressing room.
I finished my notes from the dress rehearsal and said good night to Christine, when my phone rang at last. The person I needed to talk to. I stepped away from the noise, heading into the ladies’ room at Edge, where it was quieter.
“Hi.” My voice sounded hollow to my own ears.
“You rang. What’s going on, baby? Your message didn’t sound good,” Grandma said.
“I don’t feel good,” I said, wobbly.
“Do you want me to come by? Bring you some tea? Chicken soup?”
“No. It’s not my body that hurts.” I slumped against the wall.
“Sweetheart. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know how to love like a normal person,” I whispered, because talking over the lump in my throat felt impossible. “How do you do it? Tell me. Because I don’t know.”
She sighed sympathetically. “There is no secret. You just love. From your whole heart. Like your father did.”
My chest ached at the mention of the man I’d looked up to. “But I don’t want to hurt the people I love. And I don’t want them to be hurt because of me.”
“We can’t protect ourselves every second of the day, and we can’t protect the ones we love either.”
“But I’m like a black sheep. And Brent needs a white sheep or something,” I said. “He’s trying to get this business deal, and I’m just worried that any association with me is going to ruin it.”
“Oh, honey.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do, but you didn’t do anything wrong. The people who did are locked up.”
“But are they?”
“Shannon,” she chided. She’d always cautioned me against these kinds of questions. Questions that would hurt, she’d said. “There is only so much you can control. You are trying to control the present and the future. You are trying to control people. You can’t. You can only control your choices. What are you choosing here exactly?”
I drew in a shaky breath, looked up at the ceiling, then in the mirror, and studied my face. My mother’s eyes. My eyes. What was I choosing? That was the question. Was I choosing retreat? Was I choosing safety?
Or was I choosing fear?
“I just wonder if he’s better off without me.”
“Why don’t you let him decide that? Because that’s his choice. Yours is this—are you better off with him?”
I flashed back on the last week or so we’d spent together. On the dates, on the talks, on the times we’d had.
On the moments. The connection.
And even our argument last night.
Even his forgetting didn’t bother me that much.
That was minor in the scope of things. I understood it. I accepted his explanation. I was fine with it.
What was major, though, was how I felt for that man.
And I felt all the things for him again.
So much I didn’t want to hurt him. “I am better with him. But I told him I thought he was better off without me.”
“And is that true?”
“I hope not,” I said, my throat tightening. “I hope he’s not better off without me, because I need him and want him and love him.”
Her voice grew intense. “Then find him. Talk to him. Say you love him, say you want to be with him. As long as he’s not gone, you can keep making up. We live and we love and we hurt each other. We don’t always say the right thing or do the right thing at the right moment. Sometimes we need space and distance, and sometimes words fall from our lips that shouldn’t have been said. Sometimes they seem untenable, and sometimes they are,” she said, then stopped to take a breath. “And we always hurt the ones we love most. If we didn’t love so much, it wouldn’t hurt so much. But you keep going. You keep loving. You keep working on that love every day. The only time you won’t have a chance at making up is when one of you is gone. Since he’s still there, it’s not over. Not in the least. So love him. Show him that you love him.”
I squared my shoulders, gathered my thoughts, and called up my courage. I stepped out of the bathroom, saying, “I do. I do love him.”
“And he loves you.”
I looked up to the man who had spoken. “Brent?”
39
Shannon
This was a time warp.
That was the only explanation.
Either that or my eyes were playing tricks on me.
The man I loved stood in front of me less than twenty-four hours after I’d last seen him. And a mere thirty minutes after we’d spoken on the phone. I hung up quickly with Grandma, then turned to Brent.
“How?” I asked, startled. “How are you here?”
His smile was wry and warm. “I would have been here sooner, but traffic was terrible on the way over from the airport.”
I shook my head, shock coursing through me. “No, how are you here?” I asked, pointing to the floor, as if to indicate Las Vegas itself. “In Nevada. You were in New York a few minutes ago.”
He arched a brow. “Wings?”
“Brent.”
He stepped closer, setting his hands on my arms. “You’re not giving up on us, and you’re not scaring me away. I won’t let you.”
“But I don’t want to hurt you.”
He ran his palm down my bare arm. “The only thing that could hurt me is you leaving me. And sorry not sorry. But I’m not going to let that happen.”
&nbs
p; I tried to rein in a grin. It was a futile effort. “You’re not?”
He shook his head adamantly. “Nope. I came back to tell you that.”
I looked at the clock on the wall. “Isn’t it a five-hour flight?”
He nodded. “It is. And as soon as we talked on the phone earlier, I could tell you were fading away. I wasn’t going to let you.”
“But you said you had a meeting tonight?”
“Ditched it,” he said confidently, like he had zero regrets. “I left early. Switched my flight again. I came home early to tell you”—he stopped, paused, locked his eyes with mine—“no.”
I laughed at his comment. “You did?”
“I did. Because I don’t care what those guys say about trouble or baggage or what-the-fuck-ever. I care about you. You don’t bring me down, Shannon Paige-Prince. You raise me up. You make me better. You make me want to be the man I should be. The man for you. I let you get away once, and I am not ever letting that happen again. Do you get that?” His brown eyes were hard, intense, and his touch was hot and confident.
“I do,” I said, amazed he’d done this. Amazed he was here. “But does it ever bother you that you’ve had such a normal life and I have this . . . crazy one? I have so much baggage, and you have none.”
He shook his head. “Baggage doesn’t scare me. I told you I’m strong. I will carry it. I will carry you.”
I pressed my lips together, then spoke once again, because I needed to make sure. “You bake pumpkin pie for your parents every year at Thanksgiving. What could I possibly ever do for you?”
“Don’t you realize? I want to give what I have to you. I’m lucky. I know that. I have an overflow of luck, happiness, all that stuff. I will be by your side as you deal with every day, no matter how positive or how troubling. Always.” He slid a hand into my hair, making me tremble. “And you have no idea what you do for me.”
“Then tell me. I can’t even imagine what I could ever do that would compare.”
“You send me a selfie of us, and I’m ecstatic. You give me a pony tattoo, and I’m over the moon,” he said, and his voice was filled with a sincerity that made my heart beat faster. He was the easiest person to please, and I loved that about him. “Think of me like a cactus. I don’t require much. A little water, some sun, and I’m good.”
“I’m a hibiscus, then. They require a ton,” I said, as a smile spread across my face.
“Good. I’ve got a lot to give. But what I don’t have to give is a single fuck about what those two assholes in New York think of me. I don’t care if they think Vegas is a city of ill repute. I care about you. And ten years ago, you flew across the ocean to tell me we were going to have a family, and I missed the chance to be there for you. I’m not missing a thing anymore,” he said, and my heart soared. “I came here to tell you I love you.” He cupped my cheeks. “I love you, Shay Sloan. I love you, Shannon Paige-Prince. I love you.”
Joy.
That was all I felt.
So much joy.
It was all I wanted to feel as I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, Brent Nichols.”
Then I kissed him harder, showing him how much I adored him.
When he broke the kiss, he wiggled a brow. “I was wrong. There is one thing you can give me.”
“What is it? Name it.”
“All I want is you. Give me you,” he said, and his words warmed me from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair.
“Have me.”
40
Brent
I shut the door of my office on the second floor of Edge. The sound of it clicking made my dick even harder. It was the noise that signaled the start of what I’d been waiting for ever since I’d laid eyes on her at the Waldorf Astoria.
But my desire dug deeper than the past week.
It unspooled over years.
It had grown roots in the last decade.
There was no way out of this. The only way was through it. I was finally going to have her. To take what was mine—this woman I adored to the ends of the earth and back.
The woman I loved madly. All the time. For all time.
I locked the door without looking away from her beauty. She wore a sleeveless dress and black sheer stockings that made me think only one thing—how far up did they go?
Then there were those shoes. Those black leather pumps that I was going to have wrapped around my back so damn soon.
“Now why on earth would you say you’re not giving?” I backed her up against the wall. My hands were already on her. Goosebumps rose on her skin as I touched her. “Because this is the best gift I’ve ever had. You. In my office.” I brushed my fingers along the fabric of her dress, and she trembled. That telltale sign of her lust scorched my blood. “The woman I intend to fuck. The woman I’m going to make love to.”
She licked her lips. “That’s who I am. For you, only you.”
I leaned into her neck, kissing her, inhaling her honey scent. I bit down gently on her flesh. “All day,” I growled. “All day I’ve thought about you. If you were okay. What I could do for you. How I could make things better.”
“You can do me,” she said, all sexy and playful.
“That’s what I want.” I buzzed a path along the column of her throat. She made the sexiest little whimpers and sighs. I pressed my body against hers, my hard-on making contact with her belly. She moaned in response.
“That’s how much I want you. All I can think about is having you again,” I said as I began lifting her dress.
She grabbed my shirt collar, tugging me closer. Her eyes were on mine, hazy and full of heat. “It’s the same for me. You’re all I think about too.”
My blood was on fire. I dragged my fingers up the sheer fabric of her stockings, groaning when I reached the lacy top that hit the soft flesh of her upper thighs. I didn’t stop though. I was in hot pursuit of her pussy. “Let me test that for sure,” I said, then slid my fingers against the panel of her panties. She was soaked all the way through. I dived in, sliding my fingers inside the black lace, gliding them across her sweet flesh that felt like heaven to my touch. I brought my fingers to my lips and sucked her off. “You are so ready for me.”
Her lips parted on a sexy sigh. She looped her arms around my neck and arched her hips against me. “Please. Please take me now. I can’t wait anymore.”
I scooped her up and stalked over to my desk, setting her down. “There is no more waiting. And tonight isn’t ending, Shan. I promise you.”
She reached for me and began unbuttoning my shirt, her gaze pinned on me as she spoke in a sexy purr. “Good. Because I want you to fuck me now, and I want you to fuck me again tonight. At your place,” she said, working her way down the buttons on my shirt.
“All night long, babe. I will be having you all night long.”
She grasped my shirt and pulled me closer. “Good, because I don’t think I can get enough of you.”
And I’d thought I couldn’t want her any more than I already did. She’d just proven me wrong with those words. I wanted her even more.
And I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to have enough of her.
41
Shannon
I was ready.
Nearly. There was something I had to say. Something that couldn’t wait any longer. I placed my hands on his chest, so firm and strong and solid. “Wait.”
He froze on my command. “What is it?”
I cupped his cheeks. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Okay,” he said tentatively.
He sounded worried, and I was going to nip that worry in the bud. He’d shown me he’d changed, he’d become the man I wanted, and he said he was willing to give himself to me.
I hoped I’d done the same too.
“Brent,” I said, stroking his stubbled jaw, loving his five-o’clock shadow. Loving his deep brown eyes. Loving all of him.
“What is it, Shan?”
I wasn’t scared. I didn’t need liq
uid courage or a hearty dose of guts. All I felt was an incredible joy, an iridescent passion that tripped through my bones and sparked along my skin. “I’ve never fallen in love with anyone but you,” I said, my lips curving into a grin.
The expression in his eyes changed from lust to wonder. He parted his mouth, but I shushed him, pressing my fingertip over those soft, delicious lips that I’d be kissing in seconds. I felt so vulnerable, but so sure. He was the one true thing in my life.
“You’re the only man who’s ever had my heart. And I don’t just love you. I am so unbelievably madly in love with you.”
He arched an eyebrow playfully. “Yeah?”
“It’s only ever been you,” I said, loving telling him this, thrilled that I could. I was no longer scared of what was happening between us. It was everything I wanted.
Everything I almost gave up.
“Shan, it’s always been you.” His eyes sparkled, full of a passion that matched mine. He clasped my hand and kissed my palm, and when he looked at me, he was grinning like a fool in love too. “I’m madly in love with you. I never stopped, Shannon. I never stopped loving you. Not once. You are the only one for me.”
Happiness raced through my veins. Hope flooded my body. Love was all I felt. Heart, mind, and body, I was all in. “I want to be with you forever.”
“I’m never letting you slip away from me again,” he said as he brushed his thumb along my cheek. “You belong with me.”
I held his face, not wanting to look elsewhere, not wanting to break the hold he had on me. “Fuck me, take me, make love to me.”
“When I fuck you, you are always the woman I love. You always have been. You always will be,” he said as he pushed up my dress and yanked off my panties. I ached between my legs, pulsing with heat and want.
He gazed hungrily at me. “Beautiful,” he murmured on a low rumble, his hot stare making me wetter. He unzipped his pants and pushed down his briefs, freeing his gorgeous cock. It was beautiful—long, thick, hard—and I knew what it could do. I knew the depths of pleasure he alone could deliver. He could take me to heaven and back.
My Sinful Nights: Book One in the Sinful Men Series Page 20