Pretty Broken Promises: An Unconventional Love Story

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Excuse me, sir, but this is the women’s restroom,” I said in the most level tone I could muster. Meanwhile, my hands trembled as I turned off the water and reached for a paper towel. “The men’s room is to your left.”

  “Is that so?” He lifted an eyebrow. The deep timbre of his voice sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. “I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “That’s not a very good excuse. I think you did it on purpose. What am I going to do with you?”

  His gaze dipped to my mouth. I followed the sensual slide of his tongue along his lower lip. “I’ve got a couple of ideas.” He removed his jacket and laid it carefully over the top of the stall door. All the moisture left my mouth.

  “Like?” I tossed the paper towel into the trash. Sam moved toward me while pulling his tie loose, and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, revealing the hollow at the base of his throat. God, how I loved that part of his anatomy. My nose fit perfectly there at night when we slept. I knew his skin would smell of shower gel and cologne. Mesmerized by the fire in his eyes, I shuffled backward, unable to look away.

  “Like, how about I bend you over this sink, pull up that sexy skirt of yours, and take you from behind. You can watch in the mirror.” He unbuckled his belt. I swallowed hard, feeling moisture pool between my thighs and the sweet ache of anticipation low in my belly.

  “You know how much I like to watch,” I whispered.

  “Yes, baby, I do. And I like watching you watch.” The zipper of his fly growled as he lowered it, revealing a triangle of black boxer briefs and the bulge behind them.

  The edge of the sink bit into my backside. I clutched the cold porcelain and raised my chin. He kept walking toward me until the heat of his body permeated my clothes, almost but not quite touching me. The tip of his nose ghosted the curve of my temple. I twitched my legs, eager to feel him inside me, but apprehensive.

  “Aren’t you worried someone will find us?” I asked. His fingertips grazed my knees then his warm palms slid along the length of my thighs as he pushed up my skirt.

  “No. Chester’s on point.”

  “His name is Chandler. And I’d like to have a few words with you about him.” Sam drew my earlobe between his teeth and tugged. I shivered. “Oh, God.”

  “Now? Because Chandler’s the last thing on my mind.” His lips nibbled the curve of my jaw and stopped at the corner of my mouth.

  “Later’s fine.” I closed my eyes and savored the potent aphrodisiac of his cologne, the swell of his pectorals against my breasts, and the heat of his breath shimmered over my skin.

  “Good, because I missed you, and all I can think about is getting inside you.”

  I groaned in relief and anguish when he finally kissed me. Sam had the best kisses—slow, deep, and tender. Like he had all the time in the world. Like we weren’t in the executive restroom of a client’s high-rise building. Like we were the only two people in existence. My fingers dug into his shoulders. One of his feet wedged between mine, spreading my legs so he could nestle into the V of my thighs. His erection thickened between us. I ran a palm over his hardness, reveling in his rumble of desire. He pushed into my hand.

  “Panties off,” he said. I pulled the lace thong down my legs, but he stopped my hand when they reached my knees. “Leave them there. Now turn around and face the mirror. Both hands on the sink.”

  My heart pounded against my ribs. I turned to face our reflection. Sam loomed over my shoulder. Green fire lit his eyes. He gripped my hip with one of his hands, and with the other, guided himself to my entrance. Our gazes remained locked. The tip of his cock nudged inside me, one inexorable, tantalizing inch at a time, until he was balls deep. The insistent pressure started a tremor along the length of my legs. He tipped his head back, eyes closed, lashes fanned across his high cheekbones. A muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth when he withdrew and slid back inside. He was lethal, beautiful, and one hundred percent mine.

  “Yes.” Exquisite friction built between us. The grip of his fingers tightened on my hip. “That’s good.”

  His eyes opened, blazing with need. “You made me proud in there, Kota.” He eased out then slammed into me. The smack of his pelvis against my bottom reverberated around the room. “Damn proud.”

  Those words meant more to me than a dozen successful acquisitions or a bank account full of money. I wanted nothing more than to please him in every way. “Harder.”

  “You’re perfect.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he picked up the pace. “You mean everything to me.”

  My fingers curled around the edge of the sink. Sam palmed my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them together. He pulled my back to his chest. I glanced over my shoulder. He understood and pressed his mouth to mine. Our tongues tangled while he thrust. We became lost in a primitive dance, bucking and clinging to each other, fighting to get closer.

  “Come for me.” He cupped my chin, tipping my gaze up to his. His nostrils flared, filling with the scent of our sex. “Watch us, in the mirror. Watch me fuck you.”

  I turned back to our reflection. The sight of Sam in his pristine white shirt, the throat unbuttoned, his hair wild from my fingers, set my blood on fire. A few locks of my hair had escaped the French twist and trailed over my temples. A feral light glowed in my eyes. I pushed back against Sam, taking him deeper, rewarded by his surprised gasp. My orgasm rippled down my thighs. Sam’s eyes narrowed and his lips parted. He tensed, clutching my bottom, fingers biting into my flesh. One final thrust, and he came with a delectable growl that reverberated around the empty bathroom.

  We stood in silence as we came back to earth, chests heaving, our breathing labored. With gentle slowness, he withdrew, turned me around to face him, and buried his nose in my hair. His strong arms wrapped around my shoulders. One of his hands cradled the back of my head. The security of his embrace never failed to slay me. I’d never truly been alive without him. And now we were creating a new life together.

  “I missed you,” he whispered. “I hate being away. Especially now.”

  “I missed you too.” I nuzzled my nose deeper into the hollow of his throat. Although I wanted the magic of the moment to last forever, the reality of our surroundings dampened my enthusiasm. “Do you think maybe we should get going? Chandler is probably wondering what we’re up to.”

  “Chandler’s paid very well. I’m sure he doesn’t give a damn.” As he spoke, his arms slid away. Cool air circulated between us. He tucked in his shirt and zipped the fly of his pants while I smoothed my hair and straightened my skirt.

  We left the restroom together, our shoulders touching as we walked down the hallway. Sam and Chandler traded glances, a male exchange I couldn’t decipher. Sam’s hand hovered at the small of my back, claiming me. My body hummed from the contact.

  “Have Rockwell bring the car for Mrs. Seaforth,” Sam said to Chandler.

  “You’re not coming with me?” The thrill of our bathroom tryst faded at the thought of leaving him again so soon. I smoothed the lapel of his jacket then brushed away a smudge of lipstick from the corner of his mouth. “I was hoping to have you all alone in the car for a bit. You could fill me in on your meetings. Or just fill me.”

  He smiled, something he didn’t do nearly enough these days, and the flash of white teeth sent my heart into arrhythmia. “I wish, but no. Beckett and I are meeting with the feds to discuss Maxwell.”

  “Oh. Okay.” The very thought of Maxwell numbed the euphoria of our quickie. “Should I worry?”

  “No.” Our eyes met, and his little finger curled around mine. In that moment, I’d believe him if he told me the sky was green and the grass was purple. “We’ll talk tonight.”

  The elevator doors opened, and I entered the car with Layla at my side. “Behave,” I warned him. The doors began to close.

  “I always do,” he replied.

  Chapter 8

  DAKOTA

  THE SUN had long passed the horizon by the time I arrived ho
me. Sam stayed late at the office, engaged in several grueling phone calls to a new German client. Although his office adjoined mine, I rarely saw him. While I maintained the home office, he spent the majority of his time traveling, meeting with potential clients, and dealing with his other companies. His business interests ran the gamut from investments to acquisitions, mostly property and land development. We made a good team, our strengths complementing each other’s weaknesses. Although, Sam’s greatest strength was also his only weakness—an insatiable drive for success.

  I ordered Chinese takeout, changed into my sexiest lingerie, and waited for his arrival. To celebrate our good news, I lit two candles on the dining room table and dimmed the lights. At ten o’clock, I heard a knock at the door. Thinking Sam had misplaced his key, I flung open the door to find Crockett in the hallway, suitcase in hand.

  “Crap,” I said. He had a terrific knack for turning up at the most inopportune times.

  “Thanks. Love you, too.” He frowned. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

  “Um, well, yes.” We stared at each other. I crossed my arms over my chest. I’d offered to let him spend the night so he wouldn’t have to make the early morning commute to a job interview.

  “What’s with all the paparazzi on the sidewalk? And the beast in the hallway?”

  “You mean Chandler? He’s my bodyguard.”

  “Does he sleep out there?”

  “No. At least I don’t think so.” He’d been with me since six in the morning. I popped my head outside the door. “Chandler? Do you want to come in?”

  He was leaning against the wall, his face couched in shadow. At the sound of my voice, he straightened. “No, ma’am. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not staying out there all night, are you?”

  “Just until your husband gets here.” He stared at a point down the hall, cheeks the color of ripe tomatoes.

  “Okay.”

  Crockett smirked. “I had to show my driver’s license to get past him. What happened? Is Sam in the news?”

  “No, it’s Maxwell. He’s involved in some kind of controversy.”

  “What a tool.” He rolled his eyes then shifted topics, unconcerned with Maxwell. “Do you think you could, um, cover up? I mean, seriously. I don’t want to see that. What are you trying to do, scar me for life?”

  “Sorry.” I pulled the edges of my robe together then edged aside to let him enter. No wonder Chandler had been embarrassed. The sheer nightie barely topped my thighs. How could I look him in the eye tomorrow? To distract myself, I focused on Crockett. “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” A sheepish smile curled his lips. His shaggy hair had been cut short on the sides, but the top was still long and wavy, the same rich brown color as my own. It hovered over his left eye, giving him an edgy, modern vibe. He dropped his suitcase near the breakfast bar and sniffed the air. “Yum. Chinese. Can I have some?” He made a beeline for the dining room table.

  The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I blocked his path. “No, you can’t. That’s for Sam. There are frozen dinners in the fridge. You can nuke one of those.”

  “Fine.” He headed into the kitchen and began banging through the cabinets until he found a bag of potato chips. “What’s the deal? Is this your anniversary or something?”

  “Or something,” I replied.

  “Mom said you’re knocked up. Are you?”

  “Crockett!” I punched him in the arm, hard enough to make him grunt.

  “Well, are you?” With the potato chips in one hand, he opened the freezer of the refrigerator and nudged through the variety of frozen dinners until he found one he liked.

  “Alright. Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “You should be glad Sam’s a decent-looking guy.” He grinned and bumped my shoulder. “At least the poor kid has half a chance.”

  “You’re such a dick.” In spite of my best efforts to look stern, a smile cracked through the façade.

  “You can’t talk to me like that anymore. I’m going to be an uncle.” He beamed back at me, his sullen features transformed by the excitement in his eyes.

  “Yeah, I guess you are.”

  “I can’t wait. I’m going to teach him all the important things in life.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “Like how to skip rocks on the river, how to catch frogs, and—most important—how to piss you off.”

  “And if it’s a girl?”

  “Same difference.” He rummaged through the contents of the refrigerator. “No beer?”

  “I haven’t been to the grocery in a while. Sam will probably bring some home.” Crockett’s genuine happiness at having a niece or nephew brought the sting of tears to my eyes. “You’ll be a good uncle.”

  “Damn straight I will.” He winked and waggled his eyebrows. “Where is Sammy, anyway?”

  “At work. He should be here any time.”

  “You guys aren’t going to go at it while I’m here, are you? Because the walls are paper thin. I’ll go to a hotel before I listen to that one more time.” His straight nose wrinkled into a scowl.

  “Bite me,” I replied, ignoring the flame of embarrassment in my cheeks. Oh, my God. Little brothers were insufferable. Even though we were both adults, we reverted to children when we were together. “If you don’t like it, get a place of your own.”

  “I wish. Do you know how much I hate living with Mom? She and Rockwell are almost as bad as you and Sam. A guy should never have to watch his mother make out with a dude, even someone cool like Rockwell.” A full-body shiver wracked his lanky frame. “Talk about irreparable psychological damage.”

  “They make out?” I asked, fascinated and repulsed at the same time.

  “Yeah. It’s disgusting. I walked in on them kissing in the kitchen yesterday morning. I think he spent the night. They tried to play it off like he was just stopping by for breakfast, but I don’t think so. His shoes were in the hall closet.” As he spoke, he peeled the plastic from a tray of roast chicken with vegetables and sniffed the contents dubiously. “Maybe you should think about getting a bigger place. Aren’t you guys gazillionaires?”

  “We’re not gazillionaires.” In truth, I had no idea of Sam’s actual worth. He kept his financial matters closely guarded. It didn’t matter to me whether he had ten dollars or ten million, but the mystery piqued my curiosity.

  “Either way, I don’t know why you’re hanging on to this shitty-ass apartment when you could be living like a queen on the upper north side.” The microwave dinged. He removed the tray, dumped the contents onto a plate, and headed toward the couch. “You could live in one of those gated communities. You know, the kind with a guesthouse for guests.”

  “Or younger brothers?”

  “Exactly,” he replied, through a mouthful of food.

  While he shoveled down his meal, I returned to the bedroom and changed into a pair of sweats and an oversized T-shirt. Crockett, in his annoying manner, had raised a valid point. Despite my best efforts, the apartment was small and shabby. I’d been so preoccupied with work and Sam that I hadn’t paid attention to making a home. Those details hadn’t seemed important, but now—with a baby on the way—my priorities shifted.

  As I stood pondering our tiny bedroom, the door opened, and Sam walked in. Dark circles smudged beneath his eyes. One corner of his mouth lifted in a tired smile. I forgot to care about furniture placement and square footage. The only thing that mattered was him.

  “Hey, baby,” I said, and beamed at him.

  He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the footboard of the bed. “What’s with Crockett?”

  “He’s got an interview at seven AM. He asked to stay over so he wouldn’t have to get up so early.” I unloosened the knot of Sam’s tie and tossed it aside, then smoothed my hands along his chest. He was warm and solid under my palms. My rock.

  “Good for him. Let’s hope this one works out.” One of his arms stole around my waist. He tugged me to him, pressin
g my torso flat against a wall of hard pectorals and abs. “I offered to get him on at one of our construction sites, but he said no.”

  “He wants to do it on his own,” I replied. “You’ve got to respect him for that. He’s been working really hard.”

  “I do. And the sooner he gets a job, the sooner he gets off our sofa.”

  “I can hear you,” Crockett shouted from the living room.

  “Sorry,” Sam and I replied in unison.

  “About that—” I bit my lower lip, wondering how best to approach the subject.

  “We need a bigger place.” His elbow hit the dresser with a resounding smack as he moved to unbuckle his belt. “This one’s too small. I know you want to keep things real, but seriously, Kota. I can’t even turn around without knocking something over.” He scowled and rubbed his arm. “It’s ridiculous. We can afford a better home, one with tighter security and a good location. With the baby coming, we’ve got to do something.”

  “Yes.” I exhaled in relief. “I agree.”

  “You do?” By the way his eyebrows lifted, he’d been expecting opposition. We’d had this discussion before, and it never ended well. The mattress dipped beneath his weight when he sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his trousers. “Thank God, because I can’t take it anymore.”

  “Is it really that bad?” I glanced around the cramped room, seeing it through his eyes. He’d grown up in a luxurious mansion with a dozen bedrooms, sprawled over several hundred acres. My apartment could fit inside his parents’ walk-in closet. “I thought you loved living like an average Joe.”

  “Correction. I love living with you. But this apartment? Not so much.” He leaned in and dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose. “We can afford to live anywhere you want.”

  “I’ll talk to V tomorrow. Maybe she has some ideas.” As an interior designer, Venetia had a vast network of contacts in real estate. “There’s Chinese takeout on the table.”