by Lisa Suzanne
“Well that sucks. Will your pretty secretary be going with you?” The words taste bitter on my tongue and sound even more bitter than I mean for them to.
“I thought we were past that.”
I think about the irony. I’m pissed at him for traveling with his secretary, and I have no reason to think he’s lying about the nature of their relationship—yet I slept with his brother, a huge secret that feels like it gets bigger by the hour.
“We are,” I mutter, even though I’m a little annoyed that he didn’t answer my question.
He pulls my wineglass from my grip and sets it on the coffee table next to his glass of whiskey. He turns to me, and his eyes burn. This is smoldering. I still don’t know if I believe Jill when she said Mark’s eyes were smoldering at me, but Brian’s definitely are in this moment.
“Are we?” he asks with such intensity that I’m momentarily thrown back in my seat.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Prove it,” he says.
“How?”
“Be creative.” His voice is a sharp demand, and I can’t tell if he wants me to prove it with my body or with words.
“I trust you,” I say.
He chuckles, but there’s no humor behind it. “Actions speak louder.”
Body it is.
I press a soft kiss to his lips as I run my fingertips under his shirt. His warm muscles are firm even at rest. I lift his shirt higher and allow my lips to trail down to the solid expanse of skin on his abdomen. His body is like an ice cream cone that I can’t lick fast enough, but he tastes even better. My hand trails down to his pants, where I cup his growing erection. He moans and lifts his hips toward my hand. I kneel down on the floor between his legs and pull the button of his jeans. I reach in and pull out his thick length, fisting it and stroking it a few times before I lick the tip tentatively. He thrusts up again, and I tease him. I run my tongue along his length, swirl the tip, and repeat as I continue to stroke him.
When I finally cover the swollen, thick head with my mouth, a sexy grunt rumbles up from his chest. His hands bat my hands out of the way and then go to my hair, and even though I’m the one with something to prove here, he’s the one taking control. He thrusts his hips toward me, fucking my mouth, shoving his way in and pulling back out, using me as he pleases. And I’m content to rock back on my knees and give him everything he wants.
I reach down and rub at myself furiously, needing some friction, but he bats my hand away again. He wants this to be just about him, and I can only hope he’ll reward me next.
If this is what he needs to prove I believe him, that I’m past the whole Kelsey thing, then I’ll do it.
Even if it’s not completely true.
twenty
I’ve been trying to think of a way to get Brian to take me back to his place without being obvious about it when, to my surprise, he invites me over a few days later.
“I’m having a few people over tonight,” he says to me over the phone around lunchtime. “It’s a business dinner that’ll probably be pretty boring, but do you want to come?”
“Sure, that’s fine.” I try to pretend I don’t care one way or the other, but my heart races. Having a few people over tonight. Will Mark be among those people? I nearly slip and ask him.
“Come hungry. I ordered catering from that Italian place you like. I’ll send a car around seven. I won’t be able to pick you up ahead of time because I have to entertain clients.”
“I can just drive over.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you tonight at seven.”
“You’ll need a key to get up.”
“I’ll text you when I drop my car at valet.”
“Okay. I’ll send someone down to get you.”
Please let it be Mark. Please let it be Mark.
It’s stupid to even think that Brian would voluntarily put Mark and me alone together in the small confines of a sexy elevator, but the thought still preys on my mind.
When I arrive, it’s not Mark. It’s Kelsey, Brian’s secretary.
Is he trying to send me a message? Is this his way of proving that he has nothing to hide where she’s concerned? Or is he overcompensating by sending her down because something is going on between them?
I want to throw up when her eyes meet mine. She’s been in Mark’s condo. Has he slept with her? She gets to see Brian every day at work before he leaves to come to my place. Has she slept with him, too?
I hate the jealousy that grabs hold of me just seeing her. She’s wearing a simple and professional black dress with black heels, and she looks like she just stepped off the runway. I can practically see her hair blowing in the breeze, her model-perfect makeup making her skin glow.
I feel like a child in my emerald green dress with frills around the arms. I felt sexy when I left the house, but I look immature next to the sleek bitch beside me.
She looks at me with that same disdain she gave me the only other time we met when I went to Brian’s office for the school fundraiser. She doesn’t say anything to me, merely waits for me to step onto the elevator.
I can’t think of anything I want less than being in an enclosed space with her.
I don’t even know why I hate her. Brian hasn’t given me a reason not to trust her, but it’s something in the way she looks at me. The manipulation, the disdain. She looks at me like she knows something I don’t, and I hate that I’m allowing her to have the upper hand.
She doesn’t. I’m the one Brian is dating. I’m the one he said I love you to, not her. I’m the one he’s spent almost every night of the past month with.
But there’s no way on God’s green Earth he never noticed how gorgeous she is. That was a flat out lie, and between that and the omission about who his brother is, I wonder if he’s lied to me about anything else.
You’re not innocent, a tiny voice inside my head reminds me.
I shake it off.
We’re silent as the elevator brings us up to the top floor. Kelsey hasn’t even said hello to me, but I guess I haven’t said anything to her, either.
I clear my throat. “Thanks for coming down to get me.”
“Mm,” she replies, pressing her lips together in a fake smile. It’s not even a word. I’m not even worthy of a word.
The elevator doors finally open to the forty-seventh floor and we walk to Mark’s door. My heart beats erratically and wildly in my chest just at the sight of that door again. My hands tremble and my breaths come faster. I force a cleansing breath in through my nose.
Kelsey opens the door, and the place has been virtually transformed. Where Mark’s couches once sat I find several round tables. People are milling around, dinner music is playing from some speakers, and servers are walking around with trays of hors d’oeuvres. The only people I recognize are Brian, Becker, and Jason. Jill had to work tonight, had some story downtown to cover, but she might show up later.
I look wildly around to see if I can spot Mark to no avail. He must’ve either locked himself in his room or gone out for the night. He could be out of town—back in Los Angeles or some other city where the band has a concert tonight. Since I deleted him and the band from social media, I have no idea what their schedule is.
Brian is deep in conversation with a man I’ve never seen before, and I don’t want to interrupt. Instead, I find myself in the kitchen, asking one of the bartenders who’ve set up temporary camp in there for a glass of wine.
It feels odd ordering from a bartender in someone’s house, even if it’s the penthouse suite.
Just as I take my first sip of wine, a pair of arms thread around my waist. “Hey, you,” Brian says, nuzzling my neck.
I spin around in his arms. He’s wearing a suit and tie and he’s freshly shaven and he looks gorgeous. If I can just focus on all that, I can make it through this night. “Hey.” I smile up at him.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for inviting me. What’s this all about?”
“Beck wanted to host a small dinner party for our newest clients, and it was Jason’s idea to do it here. It’s got a better view than anywhere we could’ve rented on short notice. Plus, the price was right.”
Not that money’s an object, I think to myself.
“Your brother doesn’t mind?”
He shrugs. “He doesn’t care if we have parties here, but he’s out of town tonight.”
“Oh,” I say, disappointment piercing my gut. I push it away. I didn’t come here for Mark, anyway. I wonder if that’s why Brian felt comfortable inviting me over—specifically because Mark isn’t here.
“I like your dress,” Brian says, fingering the frills around the sleeves.
“Thanks. Is it okay?”
His eyes move from the sleeves to my eyes. “The color makes your eyes glow.”
“Thanks,” I say, impressed that he still can manage to make me blush even after we’ve been together for a while now.
“I have to go mingle. You’re okay over here?”
I nod. “I’m fine. The bartender’s super nice.”
Brian rolls his eyes. “Or you can try talking to Kelsey.”
“Uh, no thanks.”
“Why do you hate her?”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“You proved to me the other night that you were past that.”
I flash him a grin. “And now you can prove to me that you have no interest in anyone but me.”
He rolls his eyes petulantly, but he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Be a good girl.”
“Always,” I say sweetly, and then I get back to my glass of wine.
As Brian works the room, I’m a little perturbed that he didn’t ask me to join him. It seems strange that he invited me here to this party but doesn’t plan to introduce me to his colleagues.
Jason makes his way over to me when he sees me standing by myself.
“Hey, Reese,” he says. He looks at the bartender. “A bottle of Bud.” The bartender hands him his beer, and he looks at me and raises his bottle. I clink it with my glass and we both take a sip. I’ve gotten to know Becker fairly well over the past month, but I haven’t spent much time with Jason.
“Having fun?” he asks.
I shrug. “Sort of lonely over here to be honest, but Keith and I have become fast friends.” I nod to the bartender, and he grins. “Have you seen Tess lately?”
He shakes his head. “I was just going to ask you the same.”
“Most of my free time lately has gone to Brian.”
“Most of mine has gone to work. I’m sure Brian told you about our travel schedules.”
“He mentioned a bit of traveling, but he didn’t go into details.”
“Then I imagine he didn’t tell you how much he’s pushed off onto me so he could stay in town with you.”
“He has?”
Jason nods. “He’s into you, Reese. You make him happy.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“I mean it. His last relationship had sort of a rough ending. You’re good for him.”
“He hasn’t talked about how his last relationship ended. He’s only mentioned his ex a few times.”
“Oh, I’m sorry I brought it up. It’s not my business to share.” He takes a swig of his beer, which he’s managed to almost drain in our short conversation.
I shrug, but he’s got my mind working overtime. “No worries. He’ll tell me when he’s ready to, I guess.”
“It’s just been hard for him to get past everything that happened, but I’m glad he’s moving on with someone like you.”
“What was her name again?” I ask.
“His ex?”
I nod.
“Kendra.”
Kendra. The same name Hazel brought up.
“That’s right,” I say, wondering how many drinks Jason has had and how much information I can pull out of him this way.
Another man I don’t recognize walks up and starts talking to Jason, so I turn back to Keith the bartender.
When it’s time for dinner, I finally get to sit by my boyfriend, though the conversation flies right over my head. I hear words like predictive analytics, data mining, and statistics, and my eyes glaze over. Give me a conversation about twentieth century American literature and I can talk circles around most people, but when it comes to statistical analysis, the best I can do is talk grade book percentages and class averages. So rather than try to take part in a conversation I know nothing about, I stare out the window at the view. I’m facing the Strip, and I can’t help as my mind drifts back to that night.
The image that stands out most from that night is from the second time we had sex, not the first. He cupped my cheek first, and then he kissed me as he hovered over me. He ran his fingertips along the outside of my thigh before he grazed his knuckles against my wet, sensitive flesh. That image of his hand and my naked thigh lit only from the glowing lights below is what keeps flashing through my mind. It’s not even close to the best part of our night together. It doesn’t hold a candle to other sexy moments and sensual exchanges. But for some reason, the image of his long, strong fingers against the skin of my thigh has stayed with me. It has flashed through my mind at the strangest times, alone or in a crowd, by myself or with Brian or Jill or anyone else beside me.
It keeps coming back, that image, and I can’t seem to erase it no matter how hard I try.
Eventually, I stopped trying.
“What do you think, Reese?”
I snap to attention at the sound of my name and look over at Brian.
“Huh?” I ask.
Kelsey, who is sitting on Brian’s other side, laughs. Bitch.
“I just asked what the average person thinks about cybersecurity,” he says.
“Oh, right. Sorry. Yes, I think it’s necessary.” I fumble my way through some non-response, a little insulted that he referred to me as the average person.
“What about in schools?” he presses.
I shake Mark out of my head and try to focus. “Well, we have a strong IT department where I teach, so many sites are blocked that kids can hardly even research at school anymore.”
“Isn’t that for the good of the kids?” an older man at our table asks.
“Of course it is, but when a kid can’t access a website that shows videos when he’s trying to incorporate video clips into a presentation, that’s a problem.”
“Youtube?” a different man asks. “I think there’s state laws against that.”
I shake my head. “Teachertube. Only approved videos. There are a ton of sites out there like that, where I could upload a video or put up a protected link, but in our district, the kids can only access those from home.”
“Won’t people try to rig the system? Hackers?” the first man presses.
“Hackers will hack regardless of what type of security systems are in place.”
Brian narrows his eyes at me.
“What?” I ask. “Isn’t that what hackers do?”
“We’re working with Mr. Everly’s company to develop a system hackers won’t be able to breach,” Brian says.
“Won’t that just give them motivation to figure it out?”
Kelsey rolls her eyes beside Brian.
“Not with the advancements we’ve created,” Brian says, his teeth gritted. The way he’s speaking to me makes me feel like a scolded child in my green, ruffled dress.
I sit quietly for the remainder of the meal, but I try to focus on what they’re discussing. Clearly, I missed the point of the dinner when I was thinking about Mark and his hands on my body, when I was daydreaming as I stared out the window. I must’ve said something wrong, because Brian’s barely acknowledging that I’m even here.
But tonight, he was doing that long before I sat next to him for dinner.
twenty-one
Brian climbs into bed beside me. I’m turned on my side, away from him, as I stare out his window at the mountains.
“Did the dinner go
as well as you wanted?” I ask.
“It was fine,” he says, turning off the light on his nightstand. I can tell he’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
“Are you mad at me?”
He pauses. I wonder if he’s looking at me or if he’s still staring up at the ceiling. I haven’t moved. “No. Why would you think that?”
“You seemed irritated with me at dinner. The whole hacker conversation.”
“Mr. Everly is tight with his security and his whole idea is to create something hackers can’t hack. You wouldn’t have known that.”
“If you would’ve talked to me, maybe I would’ve known.”
“Excuse me?”
“You invited me to come to your dinner and then I was brushed aside as an outsider for the entire night.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very sorry. In fact, I detect more than a hint of sarcasm. “It was a business dinner, not a date.”
“That didn’t stop you from talking to Kelsey all night.”
“Oh my God,” he says, his voice laced with frustration. “You have got to be kidding me right now.”
“Fine, I crossed the line. I’m sorry.” I mimic his sarcastic apology from a few seconds ago. My blood comes alive and adrenaline kicks in as my body prepares for a fight. “How about Kendra? You ever going to tell me what happened there?”
“Jesus, it’s just shot after shot with you tonight.”
“That’ll happen when I’m forced to drink wine all night by myself.”
“You weren’t by yourself. You had Keith the bartender keeping you company.”
I finally turn over to face him. “What’s your problem?” I spit.
“Nothing.” He doesn’t bother to look at me.
“Talk to me,” I whisper.
“It’s complicated.”
“What is?”
“My ex.”
“What’s complicated about it?”
“We were together for a year. We broke up shortly before I moved out here.”
“When did you move out here?”
“About a week before I met you.”
“Are you over her?”
“Yes.”
“Are you?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I sigh and reach over to cup his cheek. “You can talk to me, Brian.”