by Eden Summers
“The other night,” he continued, “you said you hadn’t had anyone over since he’d died. So, if it’s not the pretty boy, I’m guessing it’s a guilt thing.”
“This is not a guilt thing,” she grated.
“Then what?”
She sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and fought against the warring emotions bubbling in her chest. She hated this sparring match. Loved it, too. She wanted to claw his eyes out. Wanted to fuck his brains out. This situation was a whirlwind of confusion.
“I already told you I need to give up the Vault. Going back for one last time is a stupid idea.”
“Instead, you expect this new guy to rock your world?” He ran a rough hand over his beard, his scowl unwavering. “You’re making the wrong decisions.”
“And you’re an expert on love now?”
He screwed up his perfectly perfect face. “I’m not talking about love. This is about fucking. You can’t seriously believe that guy would have the first clue about getting you off.”
“They say it’s the quiet ones you need to look out for.”
“They’re wrong.” He stepped forward, getting in her face, a mere breath away. “The quiet ones bring shock value because they’re boring as hell. What you need is someone who lives and breathes to fuck. A guy who can match your appetite. Someone who can push you. Test you. You don’t need a guy who doesn’t have the balls to tell you he’d like to see your sweet little cunt riding his dick all night.”
She shivered. Head to foot. He stole her breath. Infused her with adrenaline. Oh, God, her panties were damp.
“Go home, Ella.” He stepped away and made for his car, leaving her reeling with the abrupt end to the conversation. “Get dressed and meet me out in front of your building at nine.”
“Excuse me?” Her hands shook. Her brain stopped firing on all cylinders. There were many things to hate about his statement—the authority, the self-righteousness. Yet, her libido only focused on the sexy dominance. “Why?”
“I’m taking you out. It’s about time somebody taught you how to find the right hook-up.”
A whimper formed low in her chest. Reject, reject, reject. She couldn’t go ahead with this. She refused. “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”
“Your history at the Vault proves otherwise.” He pulled open the driver’s door and looked at her over the roof of his shiny car. “Nine, Ella. Be ready.”
Then he was gone, leaving her to become overwhelmed by excitement and pure, undiluted fear.
Chapter Thirteen
Five past nine came soon enough for Bryan not to have to think too much about what the hell he’d instigated. He had better things to do than teach a woman how to listen to her own instincts. But here he stood, leaning against his car, in front of her building while he stared at his watch.
He didn’t expect her to be early. Didn’t even anticipate she’d be on time. She’d need to retaliate, at least a little, before she gave in and realized she wasn’t going to find the right guy without assistance.
She needed his help, maybe even wanted it. The confusing part was why he gave a shit. He supposed he didn’t like anyone leaving the Vault unsatisfied. The low enjoyment rating came as a personal blow as much as a professional one. And he still needed her assistance for the demonstration.
So, technically, this was business.
He’d scratch her back. She’d scratch his.
She was also a distraction. The only thing capable of keeping his mind off Tampa, family, and throat-clogging hate. Annoying Ella made the other shit in his life disappear. At least temporarily. The time alone, backed up against his car, made all the thoughts flood to the forefront.
He stared at the yellow glow from the window he guessed was hers and waited for the lights to fade.
They didn’t.
Not after one minute. Not even after five.
His cell vibrated in his back pocket, the intrusion a mental and physical pain in his ass, but a better source of entertainment than a pane of glass. He pulled out the device, scowled at Leo’s name, and pressed connect. “Yeah?”
“Shay thinks you’re high on the latest designer drug because of your unnaturally good mood this afternoon. What gives?”
Bryan thought back on the last six hours and refused to acknowledge what might have made a big enough change in his attitude for someone to notice. There was only one thing. More specifically, one person. “I’ve been testing a new powder on the market,” he drawled. “I thought about selling it on the sly to the younger ravers.”
There was more than a beat of silence. “You’re joking, right?”
“What do you want, Leo? I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Your mother. So, if you don’t mind, it’s time to lube up.”
“Fucking Shay,” Leo muttered. “I don’t know why she thought you were acting oddly cheery lately. You’re still the same asshole you’ve always been.”
Bryan grinned. This was how they rolled. Their friendship grew with the help of cheap shots and quick comebacks. “Is that the only reason for the call?”
“No. I wanted to know what steps you’ve taken to fix the issue in the Vault.”
“I’m working on it.” He kept staring at Ella’s window and wondered about the seductive possibilities of what she might be wearing.
“How? I need details. Cassie and T.J. want an update.”
“I told you Ella would do the demonstration, and she will.” He swallowed, clearing the dryness from his throat. For once, confidence didn’t coat his tone. His words fell flat under uncertainty. “I’ll confirm the deal tonight.”
“Confirm the deal? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Leo chuckled. “She’s the reason for the drug high, isn’t she? Does the big, bad Brute have a crush?”
Bryan scowled, wishing the look could make its way through to Leo’s phone. “This big, bad Brute is going to crush your face if you don’t leave me alone to fix this mess.”
The chuckle turned into unrestrained laughter. “I nailed it, didn’t I? You like this woman.”
“Of course,” Bryan grated. “You nailed it just as hard as I’ll nail Shay the next time you work a late shift.”
The delirious mirth increased. “Are you on a date?”
“Goodbye, Leo.”
“It is a date.”
Bryan disconnected the call and pocketed the cell. Ten seconds passed before the first text message vibrated from his back pocket. Then another and another.
Fucking Leo.
The squeak of the apartment building door disturbed the night air, and he lifted his gaze to find Ella’s familiar silhouette exiting the lobby. The outside lights bore down on her, giving him an unforgiving view of the skin-tight red dress that ensured no man would need the use of his imagination tonight.
Her blonde hair danced over her shoulders, along with a white scarf trailing into the deep-V of her cleavage revealing a mass of creamy skin, while her cherry-stained lips matched her seductive stiletto heels. But it was her eyes that slayed him, and the nervous sweep of her lashes, exposing the slightest need for validation as she approached.
“You’re late,” he muttered.
“You’re lucky I’m here at all.”
Her stride didn’t falter as he pushed from the car and opened the passenger door. “If you didn’t show, I would’ve figured out a way into your building and dragged you out myself.”
“I know. That’s the only reason I came.”
“Sure it is.” He didn’t believe her for a second. Not when she’d gone to so much effort to look drop-dead gorgeous. Every inch of her made his cock fill with interest. Especially those heels.
If he were the one taking this woman home tonight, he’d make sure those shoes remained firmly in place while he sank between those thighs. She’d be splayed across his bed, completely naked, all bar those ruby, fuck-me stilettos.
And hadn’t that image just given his dick the green-li
ght to adolescence.
“Nice heels,” he grunted.
“Thanks. You look good, too.” Her sarcasm was flamboyant, letting him know his compliment about her shoes was far from worthy. “I like the suit. I bet it’s a carbon copy of every other one you’ve worn for the last five years.”
He beat back a grin. “You can’t ditch a classic.”
She stopped in front of him, placing her hand-held clutch to her hip. “No. But it wouldn’t hurt to change things up a bit. You’re starting to look like a control freak with the constant stiff-suit ensemble.”
Stiff suit? Control freak?
She had no idea.
He stepped toward her, hovering close, dragging her sweet scent of lust and beauty deep into his lungs. “You ain’t seen nothin’, sweetheart. Imagine how wet those panties would get if you had a full dose of my control.”
She chuckled, batting away his arrogance with a sly tilt of her lips. “Well, we better not test that theory.” She pushed past him, pausing to whisper, “Because I’m not wearing any panties.”
He snapped his mouth shut and took the sucker punch to his balls head on. She was messing with him. He knew it. She knew it.
It didn’t stop his gaze from landing on her ass in search of a panty line, though. A non-existent panty line.
Get a fucking grip.
He wasn’t going there. Not tonight.
“Get in.” He made his way around the car and yanked open his door.
This excursion was about teaching her how to read men. To determine the wheat from the chaff. The sexually experienced from the ignorant.
She needed to trust him, not only to get her laid, but to change her mind about the demonstration night. Time was running out, along with his patience, and there was no way he could miss next Thursday’s session in the Vault. He needed to be between those sordid walls. He craved the grounding. The connection.
And, if he was being honest, he wanted to see if the image of Ella, naked and in front of a crowd, was as perfect in real life as it was in his mind.
If he fucked her now, his limp-dick insurance policy would steal all that away from him. The class wouldn’t run with the enthusiasm it deserved. His interest in her would plummet, if not vanish entirely. There’d be no buzz. No thrill.
He’d make a fool of them both.
This constant state of arousal around her would work much more favorably. His intuition would be flawless with his current level of interest. All he had to do was keep riding this wave of erection-inducing torture until next week. Then he’d reward himself with one hot and heavy fuck and be done with her.
His insurance policy would make sure of it.
He slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind him. “You ready?”
“Do I have a choice?” She ran a hand down her thigh, straightening non-existent wrinkles in her dress. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“To a bar not far from here.” He started the ignition and pulled onto the street. “I know the guy who owns the place.”
“Will there be music and dancing?”
He could see her cleavage from the corner of his eye. The lush curves were enough to drive him to distraction. “You don’t want music. Dance floors are for guys looking for an easy lay. What you need is someone willing to hold a conversation. If they don’t bother learning who you are, they won’t bother learning what you want.”
“But I like dancing.”
And his dick loved the thought of seeing those hips sway. “Not tonight, you don’t.”
She sighed and rested her head against the passenger window. “If you say so.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I say so.”
The drive was quiet, the soft hum of her voice underlining every song on his playlist. This time he itched to fill the void. He had questions. He had suggestions. But every time he thought of something to say, he fell into a pathetic hole where he analyzed the necessity of every word.
He questioned himself.
Over her.
What the hell?
“So…” He pushed through the analytical crap like a motherfucker and focused instead on his building jealousy. “The guy from this afternoon, are you seeing him?”
Her head snapped around. “What guy? Callum? No.” The questions shot at him. “He’s a regular at the cafe. This afternoon was the first time he’s spoken anything other than a drink order to me.”
“He asked you out, right?” He hadn’t needed to hear the words to read the man’s shit-scared demeanor. “What did you say?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t. I’m only trying to get a feel for how you vet potential lovers.”
She focused out her window and spoke softly. “I politely declined.”
“Good.” The guy wasn’t her type. Anyone with a spine as languid as a snake would be an unworthy match for her. She craved strength and dominance. Not a hesitant guy who rocked from foot to foot while talking to his crush.
“For now,” she added. “I think I might need to reassess after tonight.”
“Why?” He maneuvered through the light traffic, taking in side-glances of her as he went. “What’s going to happen tonight?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I think I need to stop focusing all my attention on a sexual connection. It’s time to lean more toward a mental bond.”
“That sounds dreamy,” he drawled. “Let me know how it feels when your hymen grows back.”
She gave a breathy snicker. “You’re such a dick. Just because you enjoy solitude doesn’t mean everyone else has to.”
“One doesn’t have to be the loneliest number. To me, it’s the most reliable.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree.” She shot a glance over her shoulder, giving a quick inspection of the car’s interior.
He held his breath and clenched the steering wheel when her eyes widened. For fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t he catch a break?
“You kept the books?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to keep them to read or—”
“I’m not. I planned on throwing them in the nearest dumpster, but turns out those books are fucking expensive. I read the price sticker on the back of one and couldn’t bring myself to trash them. So, I’m waiting for a spare afternoon to drop them at an oncology ward. Or somewhere else they might be of use.”
She didn’t reply for long seconds that felt like unending months. In that head of hers, he figured she was creating a punishing reply.
“You had no intention of reading them, but you took them anyway?”
He ground his teeth.
“Thank you, Bryan.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She was back to using his name.
“Don’t mention it,” he muttered and wanted to back it up with, “No, really, don’t fucking mention it. Ever.”
“You can be a sweet guy, you know that?”
“Yeah. The perfect gentleman,” he mocked. “Especially when I have my hands around your throat and your tight cunt around my finger.”
She gave a breathy chuckle. “Are you trying to shock me with dirty talk?” She clucked her tongue. “Amateur.”
He was. Around her, at least.
“It’s hardly dirty talk.” He turned onto their street, thankful for the upcoming escape from the confined space. “I should give you a lesson on that, too.” No. No, he couldn’t. What the hell was he thinking?
She sighed and remained quiet.
Crisis averted.
Thank fuck.
“We’re almost there.” The looming threat of rain had made for less foot-traffic. Not many people were around. Then again, it was nine on a Tuesday night. Not really the hour for raving. “This is the place.”
He took in the two-story building as he turned into the parking lot entrance. The front facade had received a facelift since he’d last been here. The dark brick was now matched with black guttering, giving a Gothic feel, whi
le the warm yellow lights brightened up the interior.
“You like it here?” She fumbled with the ends of her scarf.
“Yeah. It’s a low-key version of Shot of Sin.”
“How so?”
“There’s booze, soft music, and rooms for hire upstairs.” He parked at the back of the lot and cut the engine.
“Rooms for…?”
“Privacy. Playing. Fucking. You name it.” He turned to her, taking in the slight hitch to her chin and her sharp inhale. The mental image had turned her on, which meant his dick wanted in on the action. “Are you ready?”
She held up her clutch and nodded. “All set.”
His palms began to sweat as he took in all the visible assets other men would soon be ogling. “Lose the scarf.”
Her mouth gaped. “Why?”
Because I want to see more of you. “It doesn’t match the dress.” And every time you touch it I think about tying you to my bed.
Her hand shot to her throat. “I need to wear it.”
“Because?”
Her lips worked around silent words before she sighed. “Because I have marks on my neck that I couldn’t cover with make-up.”
He scowled. “A rash?”
“No.” Her focus shot to his. “I’m talking about your fingermarks all over my skin.”
“I hurt you?” Snapshots of remembrance peppered his vision—his hands around soft flesh, her moans, the involuntary spasms of her pussy.
He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. Don’t think about it. Don’t picture it. Just forget the whole scarf thing and get the fuck out of this suffocating space.
“Not enough,” she murmured.
Jesus. It was time to bail.
“Good.” He shoved open his car door and escaped the confines of the car.
She followed and met his gaze over the roof. “Do you understand why I have to wear it now?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t need a reminder staring him in the face all night long, either. “It looks fine.”
He didn’t watch her as he slammed his door. He didn’t need to confirm an eye roll accompanied her scoff; he was already sure of it.
“You realize fine is far from a compliment.” She shut her door and rounded the hood. “Just for future reference, I mean.”