Ellie gave me her sad eyes. “Braden looks a lot like our dad. Braden’s mum, Evelyn, really loved him. He ended things with her abruptly. Settled some money on her. When she told him she was pregnant, he said he’d look after Braden, but he didn’t want anything to do with her. When she looks at Braden, all she sees is the man who broke her heart and so she’s never been very loving. Ever. Braden spent the school years at home in Edinburgh with a distant but controlling father, and his summers flying around Europe watching his mum hook up with rich idiots who didn’t have time for kids.”
My heart ached for little boy Braden.
And I made the mistake of letting it show on my face.
“Oh, Joss . . .” Ellie breathed. “He’s okay, you know.”
I don’t care. I jerked back from her soft expression. “I don’t care.”
Her lips pinched together but she didn’t say anything. Instead she stood up, and when she walked by me she squeezed my shoulder.
I stared at the sink, wondering how I’d managed to do this to myself. Where had the mask gone that kept everyone at bay? Why did it keep slipping off whenever Ellie or Braden were around?
Feeling out of sorts, I grabbed my phone and headed into the bathroom to soak in the tub and drown it all out with some tunes, but as I was getting undressed, my phone rang.
Braden Calling.
I stared open-mouthed at the screen, trying to decide whether or not to answer it. I let it ring out.
It rang again.
And I just stared at it again.
Two minutes later as I sank into the tub, thinking I’d escaped, Ellie banged on the bathroom door. “Braden says pick up the phone!”
My phone rang and I closed my eyes. “Fine!” I yelled back and reached over for it. “What?” I answered.
His deep chuckle rolled over me seductively. “Hello to you too.”
“What do you want, Braden? I’m in the middle of something.”
“Ellie says you’re in the bath,” his voice was low. “Wish I was there, babe.”
I could almost feel him there. “Braden. What. Do. You. Want?”
He gave a huff of amusement. “Just thought I’d call to let you know I can’t make it tonight.”
Thank you, Jesus!
“I’m having a problem with a few suppliers on this development and it put us back a few weeks. I don’t know when I’ll be free this week, but I guarantee the moment I get some time, I’m coming to see you.”
“Braden, don’t do that.”
“After last night, there’s no denying the promise of what’s between us. I’m not backing off, so rather than coming up with a new defense—which I’m sure I’d find highly entertaining—just give in, babe. You know you’re going to eventually.”
“Have I mentioned how annoying and arrogant you are?”
“I can still smell and taste you, Jocelyn. And I’m still fucking hard.”
My stomach flipped and I squeezed my legs together. “God, Braden . . .” I breathed without thinking.
“I can’t wait to hear you say that while I’m inside you. See you, babe.”
And after that parting line, he hung up.
I groaned, my head falling back against the tub.
I was so screwed.
Chapter 12
You know on those nature shows when the cute little meerkat is strolling along on its four cute little meerkat legs to get back to her burrow where all her little meerkat politics, drama and family await her, and this big-ass eagle comes swooping overhead . . . ?
The smart little meerkat runs for cover and waits that big-ass eagle out.
Some time passes, and the meerkat finally decides the eagle got bored and went off to scare the crap out of some other cute little meerkat. So, the meerkat crawls out from her hidey-hole to carry merrily on her way.
And just when that little meerkat thought she was home free, that big-ass eagle swoops down and catches her in his big-ass claws.
Well . . . I know exactly how that little meerkat felt . . .
* * *
Braden didn’t call again, or text, or email. I spent the next few days keeping busy, fighting with my manuscript, erasing chapters that an eighth grader could have written, cleaning the apartment from top to bottom, and taking advantage of the distraction that was the Edinburgh Festival with Ellie. We hit the Theatre Big Top in The Meadows to catch the show, The Lady Boys of Bangkok, and damn, were those some pretty boys, went to the Edvard Munch exhibit out in the west of the city at The Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, and we bought cheap tickets to this young, up and coming comedian who was stuck in a dingy room in the dated building of the Student Union at the university main campus. Being in the union brought back a lot of memories of Rhian, James and I hanging out in there. I tried to let myself enjoy the crowds of the festival, the tourists everywhere, the smell of coffee, and beer, and hot food everywhere. Peddlers on the sidewalk, peddling their wares—jewelry, posters, random mementos, flyers everywhere.
I also paid a traumatizing visit to my therapist and spoke about Dru for the first time.
Yeah. I didn’t want to think about it.
Suffice to say by the time Thursday rolled around I’d managed to convince myself that Braden had only been playing with me. After all, if he’d been serious he would have at least texted me to make sure I hadn’t forgotten him, but nope. Nothing. Nada.
I’d changed my shifts at work from Thursday, Friday, to Friday and Saturday nights so I was free to hang out at home. When Ellie told me she was staying with her mom that night because she felt like hanging out with her family, I stupidly didn’t think anything of it. I was unprepared. I was relaxed, thinking Braden had forgotten about me.
I stuck my stupid head out of my stupid hidey-hole.
That’s when Braden swooped in like a big-ass eagle.
* * *
The apartment was silent except for the sitting room, where I was curled up on an armchair, sipping from a glass of wine and watching Zack Snyder’s 300. I realize now what a bad idea that had been. All those rippling muscles and the languid side-effect of the wine . . . I blamed it all for what happened next.
“You know you should really lock the door when you’re home alone.”
“Shit!” I jumped, spilling wine all over my jeans. I shot out of the chair, glaring at Braden who stood in the doorway, looking un-amused. What did he have to be pissed about? His favorite jeans hadn’t just gotten ruined! “Jesus C, Braden, for the last time would you freaking knock!”
His eyes dropped to my stained jeans before flicking back to my face. “If you promise to lock the door when you’re home alone.”
I grew still, taking in his serious expression. Was he . . . concerned about me? I frowned, and dropped my gaze as I put my almost empty glass on the coffee table. “Fine,” I murmured, unsure of what to do with that.
“Ellie’s gone for the night.”
My eyes shot to his face and I found him watching me intently. He was wearing a suit, but he looked a little rumpled, like he’d been working for hours and had come to see me without making a pit stop. My stomach flipped as realization dawned. “Did you orchestrate that?”
The left side of his mouth quirked up. “For future reference, Ellie can be bought with a box of champagne truffles.”
I was going to kill the traitor.
Especially because Braden looked so damn good. That and the fact that the costume department for 300 had done a number on my libido caused the hormonal wreck that stood before Braden. I willed myself to take Dr. Pritchard’s advice and stop thinking fifty steps ahead. I told myself all the time that I was living life in the present because planning a future was just so terrifying. But while I lived my life in the present, I constantly worried about what awaited me tomorrow, and I think the goo
d doctor was suggesting I take my own damn advice and live for today.
But with Braden?
It was too dangerous. I already knew I didn’t want a relationship with him.
“I take it you weren’t expecting me?” Braden asked as he settled himself on the couch.
Not wanting to appear intimidated, I slipped back into my seat on the armchair. “No. I managed to convince myself through wishful thinking that we were done with whatever that was that happened before . . .”
He shrugged out of his jacket. “You mean when I dry humped you against a wall?”
My jaw locked with irritation. If he’d been a character in a book, I would have hated his dirty mouth. As it was, my body loved his dirty mouth. No need to tell him that. “You know, Braden, I’ve watched you over the last few months and you’re such a gentleman to everyone but me. What’s with that?”
“I want you in my bed. Gentlemen are boring in bed.”
Good point. “Gentlemen are gentlemen in bed. They make sure you’re having a good time.”
“I’ll make sure you’re having a good time, and that you’re okay with everything we’re doing. I just won’t be well-mannered about it.”
Stomach flip, belly squeeze. “I thought we already discussed this. You and I are not happening.”
He frowned at me, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together between them. His shirt sleeves were rolled up again. It was like he knew what that did to me. “We haven’t discussed anything.”
I sighed heavily. “Braden, I like you, I do. Yeah, you’re an overbearing ass and you say whatever is on your mind without filtering out the filth, but you seem like a good guy, and you’re a good brother to Ellie.” Our eyes caught, and I almost flinched at the pang of attraction that zinged across my chest. “Ellie has become a really good friend and I love living with her here. I don’t want to mess that up. And I don’t want to be in a relationship. With anyone.”
He looked at me so long in silence, I didn’t know if he was actually going to ever respond. I had just decided it might be best to leave the room and Braden to his thoughts, when he relaxed back against the couch. His eyes darkened. I knew that look. Uh oh. “Good thing I’m not proposing a relationship.”
It was safe to say I was completely confused. “Well, what are you proposing?”
“Just sex.”
What? “What?”
“You and me. Just sex. Whenever we want. No strings attached.”
“Just sex,” I repeated, feeling the words roll around my mouth and brain. Just sex. Sex with Braden whenever I wanted with no strings attached. “What about everything else? Ellie, the apartment, the whole gang hanging out?”
Braden shrugged. “None of that has to change. We’ll be friends who hang out and have sex with each other.”
“And what would we tell people?”
“It’s nobody’s bloody business.”
I tilted my head, exasperated. “I meant Ellie.”
“The truth.” He eyed me carefully. “I don’t lie to my sister.”
“She won’t like it.”
Braden chuckled. “I don’t give a flying fuck if Ellie likes it or not. In fact, I’d prefer it if my wee sister stayed clear of my sexual business.”
“That’ll be kind of hard since the person you want to have sex with lives with her.”
That didn’t bother him in the least. “Your bedrooms are on opposite sides of the flat. And you can always visit my bed in my flat.”
Hmm. Braden’s apartment. I was curious to see it.
No! No, stop it! “I can’t.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?” his eyes narrowed dangerously.
Stomach flip, belly squeeze. I closed my eyes. I could feel his body pressed against mine again, feel his tongue stroking mine, and his hand gentle but firm against my breast. Oh God. My eyes flew open and I found his gaze had softened on me. “Just sex?”
I could tell he was trying to stifle a smile, like he knew he was winning. “Well . . . almost.”
What? “Almost?”
“I need someone to accompany me to business dinners and whatever inane social events Morag has scheduled me to appear at. It would be nice to go with someone who wasn’t expecting a marriage proposal or a diamond necklace at the end of the night.”
“That’s not just sex. That’s like an arrangement. Like the arrangement you usually have with all those Barbies you date. Which brings me to why me? Braden, you’ve got a lot of money and you’re not exactly hard on the eyes—although I doubt you need me telling you that and giving you something else to be a cocky bastard about—so why not go out and get one of those tall, skinny blondes who will jump at the chance of jumping you?”
Surprise flashed across Braden’s face and he dipped his head down. “One: because they need me to care about them. They want me to talk about my feelings, and they want me to buy them shit. We’re talking about taking that out of the picture, which works for both of us. And two: seriously?”
I frowned, wondering what he was ‘seriously-ing’ me at.
“Well,” he shook his head, grinning now, “You always surprise me.”
“How’s that?”
“I just assumed you knew how sexy you are. Apparently you don’t.”
Wow. I flushed inwardly and rolled my eyes at him, like his words hadn’t penetrated my steel armor. “Whatever.”
My blasé answer didn’t deter him. He was determined to answer my question. “No, you don’t look like my usual woman. And yes, I like long legs. And yours are short.”
I glowered at him now.
Braden grinned. “And yet they still gave me a semi-hard on in the taxi when you were wearing those little shorts. And again when you wore them at Elodie’s and Clark’s.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re lying.”
He shook his head, enjoying himself. “You’ve got great legs, Jocelyn. An amazing smile when you use it on occasion. And fantastic tits. And yeah, I usually date blondes. But you’re a blonde. I think.” He laughed when my glower turned full on glare. “Doesn’t matter about the color. You never wear it down, and I can’t get the thought of you beneath me, and that hair spread out across my pillow while I move inside you, out of my head.”
Oh. God.
“But I think mostly it’s your eyes. I want something from them no one else gets from them.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, my voice low, almost hoarse. His words had affected me as deeply as any aphrodisiac.
“Soft.” His own voice had deepened with the highly sexual atmosphere. “Soft the way only a woman’s can be after she’s come for me.”
I gulped inwardly. Outwardly, I tilted my head to the side with a wry grin. “You’re good with the words, I’ll give you that.”
“I’m good with my hands. Will you let me give you that?”
I laughed and his grin widened, wicked and beautiful. I sighed, and shook my head again. “It sounds like more than just sex, Braden. You’re asking for companionship. That’s complicating things.”
“Why? It’s just two friends going on a few dates and having sex afterwards.” He sensed my unmoving doubt on that one because he shrugged. “Look, when have I ever gotten serious about a woman? I want you, you want me. It’s hanging over what should have been a perfectly nice friendship, so let’s just deal with it.”
“But adding date nights into it? Doesn’t that extend the time period on this thing?”
I thought I saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes, but it was gone with a flicker of his lashes. “You want to put a time period on it?”
“A month.”
And then he grinned, realizing I was giving in.
Shit. I was giving in.
“Six.”
I snorted. “Two.”
“Three.”
We stared at one another and as if it suddenly occurred to us we were talking about how long we were intending to explore a sexual relationship with each other, the already hot tension between us burned deeper, and thickened the air. It was like someone had lassoed a rope around the two of us and was tugging and tugging, trying to draw us closer. An image of us in my bed, naked and writhing, flashed across my mind and my body instantly responded. Panties sufficiently damp, my nipples joined the party and tightened—visibly. Braden’s eyes dropped to my breasts and started to smolder before they returned to my face.
“Done,” I murmured.
His next question was unexpected but practical. “Are you on the pill?”
I’d had irregular, heavy periods so yes I was on the pill to stop that. “Yes.”
“Have you been checked?”
I knew what he meant. And after my last sexual encounter and the whole not remembering what the hell had happened, yeah . . . I’d been checked for STDs. “Yes. Have you?”
“After every relationship.”
“Then I guess we’re good to go.”
The words were barely out of my mouth before Braden was standing above me, his large hand reaching out for mine, his face determined, serious. His eyes blazing.
“What? Now?” I squeaked, totally unprepared.
He cocked an eyebrow. “You want to wait?”
“I just . . . I thought I’d have time to get ready.”
“Get ready?”
“You know . . . perfume, nice lingerie . . .”
With a grunt of amusement, Braden took hold of my wrist and hauled me out of my chair. My small body slammed into his and his arms came instantly around me, holding me to him. A hand slid down my hip and around to my butt. He squeezed it lightly and pressed me against him, his erection hard against my belly. I stifled a moan, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. They glittered down at me. “Babe, nice lingerie is for seducing a man. I’m already fucking seduced.”
“Okay, but-”
On Dublin Street (9781101623497) Page 14