by Shayne Ford
BRAXTON
A Wild Heart Novel
Shayne FORD
Copyright © 2016 by Shayne Ford
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, organizations and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features mentioned in this book are the property of their respective owners and have been used without permission and in an editorial fashion only, with no implied endorsement.
The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with, approved of or sponsored by the trademarks owners.
This book is for entertainment purposes only. The author and publisher disclaim any and all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly in relation to this book.
This book is intended for mature audiences only.
Written by Shayne Ford
www.shayneford.com
Twitter:@ShayneFordBooks
Cover design by Shayne Ford
The image on the cover is a licensed stock photo, and it is used for illustrative purposes, any person who may be depicted on, is a model.
Created with Vellum
Contents
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
Also by Shayne FORD
About the Author
1
JAGGER
“Food is ready, Sir,” the man says with reverence.
“Thanks,” Braxton mutters curtly.
I cut my eyes to him.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” the man says and heads for the door.
“I will.”
The door closes swiftly, and Braxton’s eyes come to mine.
He motions me to the terrace.
“Where’d you find the butler, Braxton?” I ask, stepping outside.
“You can find anything when you have money, Jagger, and you fucking know it.”
We sink into the chairs.
“What time do you have to be there?”
“We have time,” I say.
I cut a piece of fish and taste it.
“Mmm... this is good. What’d you get?” I ask.
“Rosemary Grilled Swordfish. You like yours?”
“It’s fucking awesome,” I say, digging into the grilled tuna.
“Feel better?” he asks, his eyes connecting with mine.
“Better than... when?” I ask, talking around the food.
“Last night.”
I take a sip of wine.
“Yeah... I’m fucking fine,” I say, the frustration obvious in my voice.
“Have you heard from her?”
He runs his napkin over his lips before he throws it on the side and sets his elbows on the table.
He observes me in silence.
The candlelight makes his clean shaven skin glow and blue eyes sparkle.
He wears dark jeans paired with a slim fit, black shirt opened at his neck and cuffed up on his arms. His chiseled pecs peek at the neckline, a silver necklace brushing his chest.
He combs his hair back with his fingers, long strands touching his collar.
A lazy smile tilts my lips.
“You’re a good looking motherfucker, Braxton,” I say, grinning and pointing at him with my fork. “Who’d you get dressed up for?”
He lowers his eyes, his lips curving into a slow smile.
“No one...” he says and takes another swig from his wine.
He sets the glass on the table.
“You don’t look bad yourself,” he says, locking my eyes.
“It’s part of my job,” I say, jokingly.
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he mutters. “You didn’t answer my question,” he says with a different voice, and my smile vanishes.
“No. I haven't heard from her,” I grump.
“Have you called her?”
“I’ll see her in a couple of days. I’ll figure it out then. I’m sick of talking on the phone.” I pause for a moment, my eyes trained on my plate. “This fucking love thing is much harder than I thought. When you ride high on it, there’s nothing like it, but when you’re not, it makes you hate your fucking life.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” he says softly.
I throw him a puzzled look.
“As if you know...”
“What does knowing have to do with anything?”
“You’ve never fallen for anyone, Braxton. How the hell can you tell?”
His eyes dip to the glass of wine in front of him. A mysterious smile glints across his lips.
“You don’t have to fall to know... Love is like a sword. The harder it’s forged, the stronger it is... If she’s your woman, she will follow your lead. If she’s not, don’t waste your fucking time. There’s always the ocean and the fish... Speaking of which...”
He checks his phone just as the screen lights up with a message.
A sly smile curls his lips.
“The girls are waiting for you,” he says, amused.
“What girls?”
“Elsa and Amber,” he says, his thumb scrolling over the screen.
“They want to know if you were as hard as me last night on the terrace.
The memory comes back to me, spreading heat over my body.
I flash a playful smile.
“Really? Is that what they asked?”
“Yeah, really,” he says, grinning ear to ear. He flips his phone and pushes it in my face. “Read for yourself.”
I flick his hand away from my face.
He laughs.
“That wouldn’t have happened, had you fucked them last night,” I mutter, bringing my glass to my lips.
“You mean the message... or the fact that it piqued their curiosity... or...”
He gives me a cheeky smile as if I need more pointers.
“Yeah, the fucking message,” I say, breathing out laughter, throwing my napkin at him.
The piece of fabric lands on the ground.
“I told you I tried, but I couldn't fuck them.”
“Then why the hell do you bring them back?”
“For you...” he says facetiously.
“For me?”
“Yeah, to distract you... To take your mind off Violet... To keep you out of the ocean and the bottle of scotch.”
“How’s it working so far?” I ask, grinning.
“Not so good,” he admits, and we share a soft chuckle.
I sink back into my chair and set my eyes on the table, a few moments of silence slipping by.
“But you’d fuck them if I would...”
Silence falls over my words, and I look up at him. A slow smile creases his lips, his eyes filled with secrets.
“Yeah, probably...”
“That’s why you’re so fucking horny...”
“As if you aren’t.”
I run my hand through my hair.
“I may be, but for a different reason.”
&n
bsp; “Which is?”
He gives me a smile that makes my groin tingle. I shift in my seat and adjust myself.
“Don’t fucking do this to me, Braxton. I’ve been hard the whole week. I don’t want to walk on the stage with a hard-on.”
“Then stop running your mouth,” he says, giving me a full mouth grin, clearly entertained.
“Have you been with anyone since I hooked up with Violet?” I ask, my smile fading away.
“No, not really,” he says with a different voice, his grin dying out as well. A shadow flits through his eyes. “Anyway, don’t worry about me. I can call it off.”
He picks up his phone and slides his finger over the screen.
I reach to him and grab his forearm.
“Why?”
He stops and looks at me.
“Why what?”
“Why’d you stop?”
He pulls his gaze away and shrugs.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s not the same.”
“What’s not the same, man?”
He shakes his head and waves me off.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says and starts typing.
My hand goes over his. He cuts his eyes to me.
“It’s okay. Let them come, but I’m not gonna touch them. I don’t want to mess with anyone right now. Okay?”
“All right,” he says.
“And I want to talk about this... even if not now.”
He avoids my eyes and says nothing.
“The car is here, sir,” a voice I don’t recognize rings out inside the villa, and I lock eyes with Braxton again.
“Fucking hell, man. Since when do you travel with a fucking entourage?” I ask jokingly.
His eyes narrow with a smile.
“I got bored,” he says.
“Clearly. You have a butler, a chef, a driver... not to mention the women. This is like your home away from home.”
“What do you want from me, man?”
His expression changes as the clouds pull away from his eyes.
Grinning, we push out of the chairs and head to the door.
VIOLET
I take a quick shower, put my makeup on and slip into a black dress. The fabric hugs my body tight and stops short of my knees, two cut out areas, one on either side of my waist, revealing my skin. A third one sits between my breasts, showing off my cleavage.
It’s a bit too much–– okay, it’s a lot going on, but I don’t have time to dwell right now. I put my high heels on, and glance in the mirror. My hair rolls down my back, brushing my waist.
I add another layer of lipstick, press my lips together and check my pout before I inspect my lashes, making sure they’re not clumped together.
Smiling, I strut away.
A car picks me up in front of the hotel and takes me to the club. My flight had been delayed, so my initial plan to catch him before he leaves his hotel to go to the venue fell apart.
Arguably, the whole idea of a surprise visit is stupid, but the way I see it, I didn’t have a choice.
I could’ve stayed home, and pondered over stuff that may or may not have happened.
Plus, there was that message.
I spent the whole evening trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to say?
The car makes a turn and stops in front of a building.
I sort out the fare, and moments later I enter the club. It’s an old warehouse repurposed into a few thousand square feet of dance space.
The sound barrels through me, pounding in my ears and pulsing in my blood. The throbbing lights make my head spin. I glance around and skim the crowd before I surveil the stage.
A big sigh of relief rolls off my lips when I realize the man behind the decks is not him.
Staggering on my heels, I slip along a wall leading to a big door that opens to a large patio that sprawls behind the club. People come and go through that door, nudging me to the side. I fish my phone out of my purse and call Jagger. The call goes straight to his voicemail.
Muttering a curse, I spin around and bump into a man.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, distracted, my eyes still on the phone.
“Violet??”
I glance up. A pair of sparkling blue eyes seizes me from behind dark bangs.
“Braxton?”
My voice melts into a puddle of surprise.
Unexplained to me, I find myself checking him out. He wears distressed, dark jeans and a black shirt molded on his chest. The tips of his hair brush the tattooed snake on his neck. A silver necklace peeks at his neckline.
His eyes swim with surprise.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his eyes running down on me.
He glances at the farthest corner of the terrace, and my eyes follow his gaze, drawn to a spot where silhouettes shrouded in darkness stand next to a railing.
Registering my wandering gaze, he wraps an arm around my waist and spins with me, making sure that part of the terrace falls out of my sight.
“Where is he?” I ask, nervous.
A smile plays on his lips as he senses my brief brush with panic. Gently, he runs his fingers over my face, and my skin starts to tingle.
“Braxton?”
I wish I could sound firm. Instead, my voice comes out as soft as a moaning whisper.
He snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me flush against his frame. The fresh scent of aftershave mixed with the lingering smell of the ocean on his skin titillates my senses.
The feel of him pressed against my body turns my blood into a blazing fire. I wish there was more fabric between us to stop the heat flowing to me.
“Braxton?”
I lose my balance for a moment and pull him with me, my back hitting the wall. Holding me with one arm, he braces his hand against the wall and leans to me, his torso pressed against my chest, my nipples hard against him.
He slips his gaze down and then swings it up, smoothly sinking it into my eyes.
“What is it, baby?” he asks me with a soft voice, and my knees melt.
I wish I could answer, but there are so many words to utter, and yet, none make it to my lips.
He gives me a slow knowing smile.
Holding my gaze, he slides his hand down my body. Smoothly his fingers trace my rear. Bold he grabs me and pulls me into his groin. Wetness rolls between my thighs.
My soft gasp makes him smile.
“You look good,” he says, his eyes anchored on mine as a shiver sweeps my back.
Unfazed, he takes in the heaving of my chest.
“Braxton?”
“Yes?”
His eyes come back to mine, filled with a secret smile, playfully distracted.
“What’s going on?”
“Why didn’t you call?” he asks, his gaze dipping to my mouth, his breath, soft and warm, falling on my lips.
“I just did.”
A few people squeeze by us, one of them bumping into him. We lose the little balance that we have, and both crash into the wall.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his hands coming to my face, his hard body covering mine.
My heart beats to rip my chest.
“What happened, Braxton?” I ask softly.
“Why didn’t you call after you left that message?” he asks, his voice different this time, softer and sad.
His fingers brush my face, his touch light as a feather.
He tilts his head down to catch my eyes, and I look at him, confused. Mixed feelings wash over me. Guilt, and panic, and then the pleasure coming from feeling him so close.
“Hmm? Why? You should’ve called, baby...” he says, his voice filled with regret, and my heart begins to hurt.
He runs his thumb across my cheek, his eyes dipping to my lips.
“Where is he?” I ask, my voice unglued.
“He’s... I don’t think this is a good time...” he says, somewhat cold.
“I need to see him. I know I made a mistake... I don’t care if it’s a good time or not,
” I say assertively this time.
He flicks his head to the side and scans that corner again. My eyes follow his gaze. He cups my face, demanding my focus back to him. His fingers collar my neck, then smoothly slide into my hair, his breath rolling on my lips.
My pulse starts racing as he lowers his mouth, his thumb gently stroking my face, his soft words falling on my lips.
“You know he loves you, Violet...” he says.
My breath catches in my throat as he runs the other hand up until it meets the underside of my chest and without the slightest hesitation, traces the swell of my breast, and rolls his thumb over my puckered nipple.
I open my mouth to utter words, and he smoothly presses into me, and I feel his hard, big shaft against my belly. My voice folds at the bottom of my throat.
“Shh...” he says, his silky lips brushing mine, his breath flowing in my lungs. Sweet and warm and minty. “He’s never loved before,” he says, his hand brushing my bare skin, slipping inside my dress, and then palming my bare breast. A storm stirs between my legs. “Please don’t play with him... No stupid game is worth his heart,” he says, his voice gravelly and sad as if he talks about his own heart, and I cease to breathe.
Smoothly, he pulls back, his fingers sliding down my neck, clasping my shoulder.
His eyes read mine for a moment as I absorb his message. Our hearts beat alike, craving the love of the same man.
Baffled, I study his deep, mysterious eyes.
Is this a warning or a threat? Are we foes or friends? What is he telling me? And how can I really fight him?
What chance do I have against him?
The corners of his lips tilt, curving into a slow smile.
He knows I know. His fingers splay over my face as he teasingly rolls his bottom lip beneath the sharp edge of his teeth.
“I’m not playing with him, Braxton. I want to see him... Please.”
“We can go to the hotel and wait for him there,” he says, his eyes going cold.
“No... I want to see him, now,” I say, firm and loud, and a few people turn their heads to us.