Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  “Surprise or not, you”—she pointed a finger at him—“are in my”—the finger came back around to her chest—“seat.” Her words were becoming slower and more pronounced, as though Alex was having difficulty catching on.

  It wasn’t that he was slow; he was just being deliberately stubborn. He knew it wasn’t his seat. The pecking order of the Wright family season tickets meant Michael, the oldest, got first dibs. Since Michael was out of the picture tonight, Alex had happily stepped in to take his rightful place. It was only fair that he get the, far superior, aisle seat as opposed to this usurper to the throne standing next to him.

  “What is it they say about possession being nine-tenths of the law?” he pondered out loud. “Besides, you’re late. The game is about to begin, so you might want to take your”—he nodded over to the seat next to him—“seat.”

  “He’s right,” a male voice in the row above them chimed in. “Maybe you could sit that sweet ass of yours down so we can all watch the game.”

  Alex winced and gave her shrug. Devil that he was, he couldn’t help pushing her buttons a little more. “The people have spoken,” he taunted. He tilted his head around to inspect said ass. “Though I do have to agree, it is a delectable derrière.”

  She instinctively placed both hands, palms out, over her backside as her facial expressions fought the battle between humiliation and outrage. Just as it looked like pure fury was going to be an interloper, Alex decided to throw her a bone.

  “Listen, I’d give you the seat but I recently injured my knee,” he pointed to the leg stretched out in the aisle. “It would really help me out if I could keep it stretched out like this.” He offered an endearing smile, which he knew from experience would seal the deal.

  The scowl remained.

  “C’mon, lady!” said the man behind them.

  She shot daggers at him, tossed a few toward Alex for good measure then sighed. She lifted one foot over his outstretched leg as she made her way to the seat next to him.

  He couldn’t help himself. “My, my, it’s even better up close,” he admired, as her ass passed in front of his face.

  He was rewarded with a firm stomp of her boot right on his brand new Converse.

  “Ouch!” It really did hurt. What the hell were those boots made of?

  “So sorry,” she said giving him a sweet smile that was almost as enjoyable as her anger had been.

  Fair enough, Alex thought. He had stolen her seat after all.

  Chapter Three

  She had been ignoring him the entire first quarter, despite his best efforts. During the two minute break before the second quarter he made another futile attempt.

  “Alex, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Nervy. She’d give him that. She wouldn’t, however, give him the benefit of a response. Most women would have been attracted to the face alone. The body, which was surprisingly well built under that t-shirt and jeans of his, didn’t hurt either. Tonight, Brooklyn only had one man on her mind. She replayed the fantasy she’d had while she stood right in his office. It was infiltrated by the irritating voice to her right.

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” he pouted, but she could hear the taunt in his voice. “If we’re going to be here all night, we should at least get to be friends.”

  “Or,” she finally sighed. “We could watch the rest of the game and remain perfect strangers. Why don’t you make small talk with your buddy behind us?” she nodded her head in the direction of the asshole with the uncensored mouth.

  “Yes, his remarks were clearly out of line.”

  It sounded almost sincere enough for Brooklyn to turn a cynical eye toward “Alex,” as though he hadn’t completely helped to encourage the man. She saw the slight curl of his lips as she looked his way and she immediately turned back toward the empty court.

  “Let me at least buy you a drink to make up for it,” he offered.

  That was enough to rekindle her interest. The second he got out of his seat, she’d take back what was rightfully hers.

  “Sure, I’ll take a coke,” she smiled.

  He looked momentarily confused, which transitioned into a grin of appreciation for her little ploy. “Actually, I was talking about after the game, but I have to admire your womanly wiles.” He gave her a wink and she rolled her eyes back to the court.

  “Well, even if you aren’t going to talk to me, I have to say you are a refreshing change from the man who usually sits here.”

  That piqued her interest. Before she could hide her eagerness she turned to him and blurted out, “You know him?”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sudden acknowledgement of his existence. Then that grin crept in as he realized he had just hooked her. Brooklyn could already tell he was going to string her along with it, but she didn’t care.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say I know him,” he confessed. He quickly recovered as he saw the curtain of disinterest fall over her eyes, “I mean sure, I know who Michael Wright is; most people do—or at least who his father is. And yeah, I’ve talked to him. Frankly, he seems like a real stick in the mud; incredibly boring.”

  She could see him gauging her reaction. She gave him a smirk. “Why? Because he’s actually mature, and considerate, and polite, and, most importantly would never steal a seat from someone else?”

  He leaned his head to the side to assess her with a teasing grin. “You have a crush on him, don’t you?”

  Brooklyn gave a sharp laugh. “What am I, fourteen? Crushes are for girls. I just…admire him.” She certainly wasn’t going to clue this guy in on the fact that she was completely in love with the man.

  “Admire...,” he mused, nodding his head with a grin. “Well, aren’t you a bit young to be admiring someone that old? What is he, 40? 45?”

  “He is not 45,” Brooklyn shot back.

  Alex just laughed. Brooklyn frowned and turned back to the game which was starting back up.

  “Hey, hey,” Alex said, still chuckling as he tried to capture her attention again. “You’re obviously into the guy, and I’m here to help you out. It’s the least I can do.”

  Brooklyn refused to take the bait this time.

  “You know who he is, right? Why would you want to be associated with that family anyway?” he prodded. “Is it the money? Fame?”

  That was enough to spur her. “Why do men always assume women are only after their money?”

  “Because they always are!” he laughed.

  “So, I couldn’t possibly just be attracted to the fact that he’s…perfect in every way,” she smiled off into the distance. She brought her attention back to Alex, who now had a speculative look about him. “And he’s most certainly nothing like his buffoon of a father.”

  Alex barked out another round of laughter at that.

  “So it’s not the money, or his family…it’s just that he’s ‘perfect in every way’” he brought his fingers up in air quotes with a teasing smile. “You sound like someone ready to settle down. Shame.”

  Brooklyn frowned again and turned her attention to the game. Why in the world was she even indulging this guy?

  “Shouldn’t you be having a bit of fun in life instead?”

  She was startled at how close to her ear he was.

  “Jesus!” she shouted, pressing a hand to his—impressively firm—chest. “Personal space, dude.”

  He pressed back into her, obviously enjoying the feel of her hand on his chest. She dropped it and moved back herself, until she bumped into the man on the other side of her.

  “How about this?” he suggested. “I’ve got no plans for the rest of the night”—she gave him a disparaging look, which he ignored—“Come with me to that new club, Jealous. I’ll buy you that drink I owe you and you can pump me,” his eyes wandered up and down her body, “for information about your guy.”

  “Jealous?” Brooklyn asked, eyeing him up and down, her interest slightly piqued again. She’d heard of the trendy new club, but had never been
since it was far too competitive to get into. “Aren’t we both a bit under-dressed?”

  He shrugged. “I know the bouncer.”

  “Un-huh?” she said, smiling despite herself.

  “Yeah. You can get your stalker fix and I get…well, we’ll just see where the night goes.” Once again his eyes wandered over her.

  So pathetically obvious.

  She was just about to laugh and tell him thanks, but no thanks, when he grabbed her and pressed his lips against hers. She was so startled she didn’t react. One hand went underneath her mass of natural curls to the back of her neck. It caressed the skin so smoothly that shivers went down her spine. The other hand slid around down her back and planted itself just above the waistband of her jeans, bringing her closer to him.

  It was the lips that did it; so soft and commanding. They gently urged hers open until she had the first taste of his tongue. It sent instant sparks straight to her clit and she clamped her thighs together to keep from trembling. The lips did a slow, sensuous dance against hers, as if conjuring up some magic spell to counter the logical part of her brain telling her to end this—now!

  But she couldn’t break away.

  The thumb on the back of her neck traced her hairline until it reached the sensitive spot behind her ear. As if completely tuned in to her body, it caressed the area, the slightest touch on her lobe causing her to gasp against his mouth. His hand on her back moved lower until it was firmly planted on her ass. It gave a soft squeeze in response to her gasp.

  She could hear the roar of the crowd as they cheered jubilantly for some reason. In her head it sounded far away, like she was hearing it through a cloud. Her mind was focused on the moment and the muddled thoughts running through her head. The kiss. The feel of his warm hand on her neck. The way the other cupped her ass. The closeness of his hard body against her. Alex. Michael.

  Before she could come to the conclusion that this was a definite betrayal of the man whose ticket she was using, Alex broke away.

  He kept his hand on her neck as he grinned down at her.

  She was still too stunned to have a reaction.

  “Kiss cam,” he said, pointing past her shoulder.

  She turned to see the large screen, where another couple was now dutifully pecking one another on the lips in a far less passionate moment. The comparably lackluster response of the crowd was telling enough. So that’s what they had been cheering at.

  She turned back to him in a daze. She wanted more. She also wanted to slap him.

  “Way to go, pal!” laughed her nemesis in the row above. “That’s how you keep ‘em in line!”

  That was enough to help her decide.

  Chapter Four

  The slap struck him like lighting, with an audible smack. The sting was instantaneous. Alex removed the hand from her slender neck and brought it up to his cheek to soothe the pain.

  The man behind them—who, at this point, was beginning to get on Alex’s nerves as well—guffawed with delight.

  He ignored it as he sat there embracing the lingering effects of that kiss. The skin on the back of her neck had been so smooth. He could still feel the plumpness of her ass in his hands, even above the rough denim fabric. And the taste of her…sweet lord. He rolled his tongue around his mouth, savoring the last bit of her flavor. The flag in his pants that had been working its way to half-mast, made it all the way to the top of the pole.

  He placed his hands over the tent in his jeans as he watched her expression.

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” she seethed.

  “Sorry,” he said, his voice indicating no such sentiment, “the moment just struck me. Besides, the camera crew obviously thinks we’re a couple. We might as well please the masses.”

  He offered a charming grin in hopes of tempering some of that rage. She looked down at his lips and he was pleased to see her suppressing a smile of her own before she turned to face the game again.

  The Alex Wright charm works its magic yet again.

  He felt rather pleased with himself. Based on her behavior beforehand, he would have thought it would be tougher to bring her around. Apparently he was a better kisser than he thought. He might as well try pressing his luck.

  “So is that a yea or nay on going to Jealous?” he probed, offering up yet another trademark Alex Wright smile.

  She turned back to him. He saw her eyes taking in his smile once again. He felt a bit encouraged when she offered a smile in return.

  “Sure,” she shrugged. Then she leaned in close to him, and he had another heady whiff of that intoxicating jasmine scent of hers. God, this girl!

  “Just keep in mind,” she purred. “The second you leave that seat, I’m taking it back. Then I might just lose all interest in you. So I hope you can hold it as far as going to the bathroom goes.”

  It was an odd pronouncement, but Alex didn’t put too much thought into it. She’d agreed to come with him, which was all that mattered. If he had to pee into a cup to keep from leaving his seat, that’s what he’d do.

  Having more than a passing knowledge of Jealous, he knew there was no way anything even remotely resembling a conversation could be had there. The music was far too loud—and for good reason. When people couldn’t talk, they spent money on drinks. And when people drank…they let go of all their inhibitions. Alex had a strong desire to see what this little minx was like when she let go of hers.

  By the time he was done with her, his brother Michael would be nothing more than a distant memory.

  Having made good on keeping his ass firmly planted in his—or rather Michael’s—seat for the entire second half, she agreed to accompany him to Jealous. The irony of the name of the club wasn’t lost on him. As he led her out of Madison Square Garden and on to the street to hail a cab, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was the fact that she was so obviously sprung over his older brother that made her so damn desirable.

  “So it looks like your knee is better,” he heard her say as she looked down at his leg.

  “It’s a miracle!” he said, giving her his best shit-eating grin. “It must have been that kiss,” he said, leaning in to her.

  She smiled down at his mouth again. They both knew he’d been lying. It was the second tiny white lie he’d told her tonight.

  Actually, the first wasn’t so much a lie, as a choice not to divulge information. She still had no clue that he was Michael’s brother. Alex made it a point to be on a first name basis with everyone he interacted with personally, and professionally. Wright wasn’t an uncommon name; all the same, he had no desire to play on his father’s notoriety. He was grateful for the opportunities in life the Wright legacy had afforded him, but he learned early on that being associated with his father was more trouble than it was worth. Which was why he was often in one international city or another—as long as that city wasn’t New York. He had a suspicion that was the reason why Michael had gone the opposite direction and taken on a boring law firm partnership.

  As they stood on the curb waiting with the masses for a cab, a thought occurred to him. “So I just realized, I don’t even know your name,” he said, posing the unspoken question to her.

  She gave him a smile. “I suppose you deserve that much,” she said. “Brooklyn.”

  He nodded as though it made sense. In a way, it did. “Brooklyn…?” he prodded, hoping for more than just a first name to go on.

  “Just leave it at Brooklyn,” she said.

  He left it. It would have been hypocritical of him not to. The second she gave her last name, she’d want his. That wouldn’t do. If she knew her crush—and let’s not mince words, it was definitely a crush—was his brother, the wall of silence would come crashing down.

  “Alright then, Brooklyn…Smith,” he said.

  “Pleased to meet you Alex…Smith,” she said in kind.

  He gave a short laugh and saw her amused gaze fall toward his lips again, no doubt remembering the unforgettable kiss he’d given her.

  Al
ex was happy to see the line outside Jealous was all the way down the block. He took it as a personal point of pride. He exited the cab, reaching a hand toward Brooklyn to pull her out behind him. He noted her gaze as she took in the long line of young women in tiny dresses and the men who were there to ogle them. Alex could have told her that the men would get in before the women. Eye candy was important, but men who spent money trying to entice that eye candy were definitely a priority as far as the owners were concerned.

  Such particulars were irrelevant for Alex and his date. Even in his t-shirt, jeans and Chuck Taylors, and Brooklyn’s equally, non-sexually appealing attire, he knew they’d get in. After all, Alex had already made the owners over one hundred thousand dollars profit. A one-time joke of a club had all of a sudden become the hottest spot in the biggest city in America—all thanks to Alex.

  As such, he felt pretty confident when he took Brooklyn’s hand, walked her right past the line of hopefuls waiting to get in, and straight up to the bouncer, Tyrone. In Alex’s profession, it paid to remember names.

  “Alex, my man!” Tyrone exclaimed.

  “Hey, Tyrone,” Alex responded, raising his fist to bump the one Tyrone offered him. “How’s it going?”

  “Can’t complain. Can’t complain,” Tyrone said. “Thanks to you.”

  Alex smiled. Even though the bottom line was the most important thing in his business, it was always good when each and every employee was happy. Alex had learned a long time ago, the two usually went hand in hand.

  Tyrone leaned in closer to him, a curious expression on his face. Alex took a startled step back in response.

  The bouncer looked at Alex, then over to Brooklyn, then back at Alex.

  “Yo, girl, you know you wrong for that,” he said, giving Brooklyn a scornful frown, which was countered by his inability to keep the laughter from his voice. “How you gonna have my man runnin’ round town lookin’ like this?”

  Alex turned to her in confusion. She was giving Tyrone a tart, little smirk.