by HELEN HARDT
“But Bobby does, apparently.”
“Apparently.” She takes a sip of her water. “Where is the waiter with our wine?”
“Tell me about you and Bobby,” I say.
She smiles. “Like I said. He’s a tiger. In the boardroom and in the bedroom. You wouldn’t believe what he’s into.”
Yeah? Try me. I don’t say it, though. No way am I going to talk about what Braden and I do in the bedroom with a virtual stranger, NDA or not.
“He has the stamina of a guy half his age,” she continues. “And his body… Dreamy. The best body I’ve ever been with, and most of my dates have been with significantly younger men.”
Most? Interesting, but not surprising, given what Ben seemed to think of Kathy. “Yeah, he seems to stay in shape.”
“A lot of it’s in his DNA,” Kathy says. “I mean, look at his two sons. But he works out almost every morning.”
Does Braden work out? Funny that I don’t know the answer to that question. Other than his racquetball date, he’s never mentioned exercise. He must, to maintain that perfect physique. I’ve let this man tie me up and take control of me, yet I have no idea if he works out.
“Skye?”
“Yeah?”
“You seemed to zone out there for a minute. Oh! Good. Here comes our wine.”
Our server sets the two glasses of Bordeaux in front of us. “Your entrees will be out in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Kathy says. She picks up her glass. “To us.”
“To us?”
“Yeah. A new friendship.”
I pick up my glass and clink it to hers. This is a new friendship? She’s not just here because she wanted the selfie? Perhaps I misjudged Kathy. Maybe she truly has feelings for Braden’s father.
If that’s the case, should I tell her that he’s just using her? At least according to Ben?
I hold back a sigh. This is all so none of my business.
I smile. “To a new friendship.”
My smile wavers and my stomach drops.
A maître d’ leads two women through the restaurant, and my gaze meets one of theirs.
It’s Tessa.
Chapter Forty-Two
Tessa raises an eyebrow at me.
I smile weakly.
Tessa and Betsy sit down at a table behind me, thank God, so I don’t have to see them.
I’m the shittiest BFF ever. I turned down Tessa’s invite, and here I am sitting with a woman she doesn’t recognize. It could be business, of course. That’s what I’ll tell Tessa if she asks.
But that’s a lie.
The truth is that I just didn’t want to talk to Tessa and Betsy, and not because I can’t tell them about my trip to New York.
That bad feeling I had after I turned Tessa down at lunch?
It’s back with a vengeance.
“Something wrong?” Kathy asks.
I smile at her. Again, weakly. “No. Why do you ask?”
“You got a weird look on your face.”
“I’m fine.”
Except I’m not. I look at my phone, which I’ve silenced to avoid the tons of notifications from my Instagram posts. Kathy and I are front and center. Tessa would have seen the post anyway.
Should I go over and explain this to her?
If I do, what do I say?
Who the hell am I?
Kathy chatters the rest of the way through dinner.
I can’t tell you a word of what she says.
…
At five minutes until ten, I text Braden.
I’m in the lobby of your building.
A few minutes later, the doors to his private elevator glide open, and Christopher emerges.
I walk toward him, but he gestures for me to stay put. I widen my eyes.
“Mr. Black asked me to take you somewhere,” he says.
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Christopher, I can’t just go somewhere without knowing where I’m going.”
Christopher chuckles. “He expected you to say something like that.”
I roll my eyes. Perfect. Braden knows me better than I know myself, which ironically isn’t that surprising.
I look down at my dressy jeans and blouse. “What if I’m not dressed appropriately?”
“You’re dressed fine. Come with me.”
I relent and let Christopher lead me to the Mercedes in the garage. Before we leave, he hands me a piece of black silk. “Put this around your eyes.”
“Seriously?”
“Have you ever known Mr. Black to not be serious?”
He’s got me there. “I suppose you won’t take me if I don’t put it on.”
“Right.”
“Well, that’s fine—”
He interrupts me with a burst of laughter. “He said you’d say that as well.”
I huff and tie the blindfold around my eyes. “Satisfied?”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” he says, “but Mr. Black will be satisfied.”
Which is all that matters, of course.
My flesh tingles. Is he taking me to a…
No. Braden was clear. He only engages in the leather lifestyle in New York. So where are we going?
About twenty minutes later—I’m guessing, as I can’t see my watch or my phone—the car stops.
“We’re here,” Christopher says.
“May I take off the blindfold?”
“Not yet. Mr. Black will come get you, and then he’ll tell you what you need to do.”
A few minutes later, the car door opens. “Skye.”
Braden’s voice. It’s low and sexy.
“Hi, Braden.”
His fingers touch my arm. I shudder.
“Come with me.”
He helps me out of the car and then places his arm around my waist. “Don’t be afraid.”
I clear my throat. “I’m not.”
“You are. I can feel the tension in your body. There’s no reason to be afraid.”
“I know that.”
“Good. You’ll enjoy tonight. I promise.”
A few moments later, we’re inside a building. The scent of cigar smoke wafts toward us. Where are we? Smoking is illegal in public places in Boston except for cigar bars. Braden didn’t bring me to a cigar bar, did he?
Jazz music plays softly.
“Where are we?” I ask.
He gently pulls off my blindfold. “Look around. See for yourself.”
My eyes adjust to the darkness. The atmosphere is smoky and hazy, and I don’t have a clue what’s going on.
“This is another place I own. An investment. It’s a cigar bar and jazz club, but tonight, it’s all ours.”
“What?”
“I closed it to the public tonight. Just you and me, Skye. We’re going to listen to some incredible music.”
“Oh.” I sigh softly. “It sounds wonderful.”
“Not only that,” he continues, “but we’re going to make love here, Skye.”
“But what about the band?” I ask, looking around.
The stage is empty.
“The music is on the sound system,” Braden says. “I had them record a set, and then I gave everyone the night off with double pay.”
I warm all over. He closed up a jazz bar for me. The scent of cigar smoke doesn’t bother me. In fact, it seems normal for this place, adds to the ambiance. The leather chairs are worn, the lighting dim. I feel like I’ve walked into an old speakeasy during Prohibition. Any minute, I expect Al Capone to appear with a flapper on each arm.
“Why, Braden?”
“Because it’s different. It’s exciting.”
Different, yes. Exciting? Had I not experienced the leather club in Man
hattan, I’d be very excited right now. But since the Black Rose Underground, everything else seems so…tame.
Braden’s blue eyes smolder.
And I know he has something in mind.
Something that will excite me.
I look around. A wooden bar stands along one side of the large room. Tables with worn leather chairs are scattered throughout. A small area by the stage provides a makeshift dance floor.
Everything in here exudes character.
“What’s the name of this place?” I ask.
“It doesn’t have a name,” he says.
I lift my eyebrows.
“It’s a secret club,” he says.
“So I was right!”
“About what?”
“It feels like an old speakeasy.”
He lifts the corners of his lips. “That’s the idea. Except nothing is illegal about this place.”
“I didn’t know there were places like this in Boston.”
“Every major city has places like this. They’re iconic.”
“And you…”
He chuckles. “Of course I had to have one.”
I nod. It makes an odd sort of sense. Braden is secretive about so much of his life. Of course he wants to own a secret bar. Hell, he owns a leather club in New York.
I uncovered another layer of Braden Black tonight.
I smile to myself.
“The bar,” Braden says, “is antique wood from the roaring twenties. I like to think it might have sat in a real speakeasy once.”
I nod.
“Undress, Skye.”
I widen my eyes.
“Do it.”
I timidly look around. No one is here but us, of course. He said he’d closed the place. Still, we’re in a public place…
Which is kind of exciting. I almost wish someone could walk in at any moment.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
I peel off my blouse and my bra. Then my shoes and jeans, until I stand only in my lacy panties.
“Keep going.”
I nervously glance around, still expecting—hoping for?—someone to walk in.
“No one else is here, Skye.”
I shimmy out of my panties and hold them out to Braden. He takes them and stares at them for a few seconds. I half expect him to sniff them, but he doesn’t.
“Now, get on the bar.”
I walk toward the bar and hoist myself onto it. The wood is cool against my bare skin.
“Spread your legs.”
I obey. I’m wet and ready, but something is missing. I can’t say what. I look around at the dusky ambiance, listen to the jazz filtering through the sound system.
A week ago, this atmosphere, Braden ready to do whatever he wants to me, would have me already clawing for an orgasm.
So what’s missing?
Braden is as handsome and magnificent as ever. He loosens his tie and removes it. He discards his suit coat and unbuttons the top two buttons of his white shirt. His black chest hair peeks out.
Yes, he’s majestic as ever, and the thought of him sliding his cock into me makes me shiver.
I’m always ready for Braden.
But tonight…I want more.
What? I can’t say.
Braden pulls up a barstool and sits down in front of my bare pussy. He inhales. “Mmm. I love your scent, Skye. I love that you’re always ready for me.”
I am.
I’m soaking. I want him. I always want him. But what—
“Oh!”
He jams two fingers inside me, and I jerk. The feeling is wonderful…and unexpected. Usually he licks me first.
Still, I’m ready. Wet. And as he slides his fingers in and out and around, I undulate on the bar, my hips circling.
“Touch yourself,” he says. “Play with your nipples.”
They’re already hard and straining, and I finger them lightly, my own touch sending me into shudders and moans.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says. “So hot.”
I close my eyes, chasing an invisible rabbit down a hole. He eludes me, though, even as I grind against Braden’s hand.
The zing of his zipper.
Then he’s inside me, pumping. How he reaches me at the height of the bar, I have no idea. I don’t care. The friction of his pubic hair against my clit sends me reeling, and I’m almost there… Almost there…
But the climax is quicker than I am. I can’t catch it despite the glorious friction against my clit.
Something’s missing.
Something I reach for… Reach for…
“Come, Skye.”
Finally, I grip the pleasure that was eluding me. My climax rolls through me and around me. “Braden!” I cry out. “More! I need more!”
“Keep going,” he says through gritted teeth. “Keep going, Skye.”
His words. All I need are his words.
Usually.
But tonight…they don’t work.
Chapter Forty-Three
“That’s it, baby.” He rams into me harder, harder, harder…until— “God, yes. So tight. So sweet.”
His release is long and sustained. He pushes into me, perspiration dripping from his brow, his eyes squeezed shut.
I watch him. Watch every microsecond of his orgasm. He’s beautiful. Big and strong and beautiful when he comes.
And I realize…
I’m no longer coming.
My orgasm has subsided.
In this forbidden place. This beautiful forbidden place with the man I love and adore. I should be coming and coming and coming, but once I came down from the first orgasm, I was done.
Odd.
Odd and unsettling.
Braden finally withdraws. “Skye?”
“Yes?”
He frowns slightly. “I thought you’d enjoy this. Coming here.”
“I did. I do. This is a beautiful place. Dreamy, even. Reminiscent of another time.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I’d love to do a photo shoot here sometime. Maybe for one of my posts.”
“Of course. Anytime. But there’s something you’re not telling me.”
I stay silent.
“What’s wrong?”
How does he know? “Nothing. Why?”
He trails a finger over my jawline. “You seem…elsewhere tonight.”
I force a smile. “You’re imagining things.”
He cocks his head. “Don’t lie to me, Skye.”
I sigh.
“Out with it,” he says.
“It’s silly, really.”
“Nothing is silly. Let me help you.”
“I’m feeling… This is difficult for me to say.”
“Just say it.”
“I’m not sure. Inadequate, I guess.”
“Why?”
“A lot of reasons. I’m not being a good friend to Tessa. I’m letting Addie get to me. I feel like I’m not…”
And I’ve given up control to Braden in the bedroom, though in all honestly, that makes me feel more like me than I’ve ever felt.
It’s the rest of the stuff, mostly, but I can’t deny Braden is a part of it.
“Not what?”
“Like I’m not me anymore.”
I expect him to frown. To tell me I’m being ridiculous. To…do just about anything other than what he ultimately does.
He cups my cheek, runs his thumb over my lower lip. “Look at me.”
I meet his blue gaze.
“Tell me, Skye. Since we met, when have you felt the most like you?”
“It’s little things, Braden. It’s not—”
He touches his fingers to my lips. “Just answer me, Skye.”
I close
my eyes, let out a soft sigh.
Apprehension knifes through me.
Not because I’m afraid to answer him.
But because I know the answer, and that’s what surprises—and frightens—me.
Chapter Forty-Four
“Skye…” he urges.
I open my eyes, turn my head, and kiss the palm of his hand.
“In New York,” I say. “At your club.”
He smiles. “That pleases me.”
“Why?”
“Because at the club is when I feel the most like me,” he says.
“Then why do you indulge only in New York?”
“I’ve already answered that question.”
“But—”
“There are certain things I keep out of my Boston life. Aren’t there certain things you keep out of your Kansas life?”
The fact that I haven’t told my parents about Braden spears into my head. Why haven’t I? They’ll be thrilled that I’m happy, not to mention that I’m dating a billionaire. What parents wouldn’t be?
“I suppose so,” I say.
“Speaking of Kansas…”
God. He’s going to say he wants to meet my parents. After all, I met his father and brother.
“I’ve never been there.”
“Oh?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“A little. You’ve been everywhere.”
“Not everywhere, but a good many places both here in the U.S. and outside.”
I can’t help a smile. “Kansas never made your list, huh?”
He smiles back, which makes me smile wider. Every time I see his real smile, I get warm inside. He’s usually so stoic.
“Not yet. But it will. You and I will go there.”
“When?”
“When would you like to?”
“I don’t know. I start my contract with Susanne tomorrow. I’m not sure Eugenie wants her posts taken from a Kansas cornfield.”
He kisses my forehead. “Probably not.”
“But New York, Braden. I could do my posts in New York.”
That delicious smile spreads across his face once more. “You want to go back to New York?”
I close my eyes. “More than anything.”
“I have meetings all next week here in Boston,” he says. “But we can go next weekend.”
“I’d love that.”
He kisses me again, my lips this time. Just a soft brush against them, but I tingle all over.