Taken

by Jennifer Dawson

  Of course, I’ve seen Layla, Ruby and Jillian in all matters of situations. I’ve seen all three of them on their knees. I’ve seen all three of them glassy-eyed with desire. I’ve seen all of them come. Maybe not directly, but certainly in my presence.

  We’re all good friends after all.

  But with Jillian I have taken a more active role. Leo’s wife, and the woman I now consider one of my best friends, has quite an exhibitionist streak in her and I’m the only one Leo trusts. Once upon a time, before he was married, we routinely mutually tortured some poor girl. Leo and I have always been good at silent communication and working in tandem. Sometimes we take that out on his wife. It’s all in good fun.

  But it makes him know me better than Michael or Chad.

  Of course, I could have asked Michael or Chad for the favor, but Jillian is the one that took her number.

  “I’ll have Jillian make the call,” Leo says.

  My shoulders relax. “Thank you.”

  “This is going to be fun.” Leo chuckles and I want to punch him.

  “It’s all for the good of her education.”

  He outright laughs now. “Such bullshit, but consider it done.”

  I hang up, not commenting any further less I give him more ammunition.

  I narrow my eyes, staring at the row of bookshelves lining my office, trying not to think too much how I hope she’ll be there tonight. Fifteen minutes goes by when my phone beeps, signaling an incoming message. It’s Leo. She’ll be there.

  Good. Now I can relax and get on with my day.

  * * *

  Veronica

  Jillian’s call asking if I wanted to join them tonight at a new club was an unexpected surprise. When I talked to her, I didn’t ask if Brandon was going to be there because I didn’t want to reveal my interest. But all my instincts have told me he would be, and I’d dressed accordingly.

  I understand I’m not supposed to want to seduce him with my appearance since I’ll be working with him come Monday, but I can’t seem to help myself. While we are going to a pool hall, which sounds casual, it’s actually an upscale establishment, lending itself to the cocktail dress I’m wearing. With my hair loose and wavy, I chose a silky plum-colored dress with long sleeves that rides high on my thighs and a scooped neck. On the surface it’s pretty and looks good on me, but it’s the back that’s the real show. It’s a plunging deep V that ends right before the curve of my hips.

  It’s something he won’t see until I’m facing away from him.

  It makes me feel sexy. Daring. Alive somehow.

  I want him to see me in it. The hope and excitement that he might be there flows hot in my blood, and now I get to find out if my instincts are correct.

  I walk past the long line outside to give my name to the doorman. He nods and points to a man on the top of the steps. “He’ll show you to the VIP area.”

  My certainty that Brandon will be there grows and heat spreads out on my cheeks in anticipation. I walk up the steps to a man in a dark suit. “Right this way.”

  I follow, walking through the crowded main room before reaching a set of steps that leads to a group of about six pool tables. I spot Brandon immediately.

  As though he’s scented me on the air, he glances up the steps, and our gazes lock.

  My heart begins a fast, frantic beat as my throat goes dry. He’s the most beautiful man in the room, although in fairness, I don’t notice anyone else is even alive. He’s standing there, his hand on a pool stick, wearing all black, which he seems to favor. But it’s his expression that rivets me. It’s dark, dangerous and intent. A series of goose bumps race across my skin.

  I walk down the steps, my eyes never leaving his, so when Jillian steps into my view it startles me away from the hypnotic trance he’s put me under.

  Beaming, she pulls me into a hug. “You made it.”

  We break apart and I smile at her. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”

  She laughs, and it’s full and throaty. “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

  She’s wearing a red dress, and looks stunning. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me over to the rest of the group. As I take in Leo, Michael and Layla, and Chad and Ruby I can’t help marveling at how beautiful they all are. And I don’t mean looks, in my circle, almost everyone is beautiful and glamorous. Made that way by wealth and privilege and the help of plastic surgeons. Beauty is a dime a dozen, so I’m not talking about that.

  There’s something alive about them. Something compelling and captivating. Maybe because they all have that indefinable thing I’m searching for. I wave at everyone and say politely, “Thanks for inviting me.”

  They all say hello, and when my gaze meets Brandon’s, it flitters away, because there’s a very distinct tension between us. A persistent awkwardness as we feign a casual greeting I don’t think either of us feels.

  Michael, who I’ve only seen sitting down, looms over me. He’s tall, like really tall and even in my heels I have to crane up to look at him. He holds out a stick to me. “Do you play?”

  I nod, taking it from his hands. “I do.”

  “Excellent.” He cocks an evil grin in Brandon’s direction. “You’re with him.”

  My pulse practically pounds out of my neck. “All right.”

  Leo winks at me. “What can we get you to drink?”

  “I’ll take a Manhattan, thank you,” I say, my tone polite.

  “Interesting choice.” Leo glances around the small room, spots a waitress and signals her over.

  Layla and Ruby take turns hugging me and there’s a flurry of activity and chitchat before they turn their attention back to the game.

  Chad, runs a palm over Ruby’s hip, encased in an electric-blue dress that makes her look even more like Snow White. Her lips are red, enhanced by gloss, but I can’t help but wonder if that’s why her parents named her Ruby. It matches her so well.

  Chad nods down at her. “You’re up, little girl.”

  She rolls her eyes but her face practically glows as she looks at him. She takes her stick and bends over the table. But she’s not lined up properly, her stance is off, and she takes the shot way too fast. The white ball hits a stripe, and bounces off the table.

  Chad laughs and shakes his head. “Oh my god, you suck. I need a new partner.”

  She straightens and frowns, glaring at him before planting her hands on her hips. “I told you how bad I was, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “I thought you were being modest,” he says with a grin.

  “Well, I’m not.”

  Layla takes a sip of her drink. “Don’t worry, Ruby, I suck too.”

  Ruby tilts her chin. “Thanks, Laylay.”

  Like Michael, Layla is in black. He’s sitting on a stool, legs spread, and she’s leaning against his broad chest. His hand is pressed to her stomach, and he runs his hand over the silk of her dress, traveling up to brush the underside of one breast, and my breath catches in my throat. It’s not overt, but there’s something very sexy about it, and quite simply, they are stunning to look at.

  They almost look like one of those film noir-inspired fashion shoots you see in art magazines. All gritty, raw and powerful.

  Michael presses his lips to her neck and says, “We’ll have to swap partners around then, won’t we?”

  Layla peers back at him, shrugging one shoulder. “Jillian sucks too, so you should all even out.”

  Michael shifts his attention to me, pinning me to the spot. “What about you, Veronica? Do you suck?”

  The directness of his gaze makes me shift on my high heels, but I smile. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.” I grew up with rich kids, and playing pool was a common Saturday night when we were growing up.

  “Lucky, Brandon.” He smirks, and again his hand travels slowly, and sensuously, over his soon-to-be wife.

  I tear my eyes away, thankful to see the waitress returning with her tray of drinks.

  I’ve been avoiding looking at Brandon, afraid my excit
ement and anticipation at seeing him will be way too obvious. He’s leaning against the table where the drinks are being placed, and I have no other choice but to confront him.

  I smile, hoping I look casual. “Hi.”

  His gaze flickers over me. “You came.”

  I square my shoulders. “Yes.”

  Again he roams over my body before nodding. “Good.”

  The others appear to be watching us, and I wonder if the tension is as obvious to them as it is to me. My lashes flutter. “So I’m with you?”

  “You are.” A brow rises. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  I shake my head. “Not at all.”

  It doesn’t escape my notice that we are all paired up. I take a sip of my drink and let it burn down my throat.

  Leo says, “You guys can play the winner.”

  “Sounds fair,” I say.

  “Jilly, you’re up,” Leo tells his wife.

  She takes the stick.

  Drink in hand, I turn to watch her play.

  Behind me, there’s a shifting. I crane my neck to peer over my shoulder.

  Brandon’s gaze is on my back. His jaw tightens.

  I attempt to tap down my delight and return my attention to the game.

  I can’t pay attention though, because my mind is spinning with Brandon. Wondering what he’s thinking. Wondering what this night will bring. Wondering what might happen between us. Because something will happen.

  There’s too much attraction. Too much chemistry scorching the air. The tension will have to reach a tipping point.

  The only real question is when.

  8

  Brandon

  Veronica is stunning at pool. Maybe even better than I am. After the last game, the rest of the couples decided that we needed to play head to head. Right now, she’s at the top of the table, pool stick in hand, bent over, concentrating on breaking.

  With smooth, fluid movements, she draws back and sends the balls flying across the table, she straightens, flashing me a grin. “Good luck.”

  I step up and survey the results. I’m going to need it. If I had any blood in my brain, I’d have a better shot, but she’s distracting me. I want to focus on her and not the game in front of me. I walk to where she is, coming to stand next to her. My attention drifts to her mouth. “Where did you learn to play pool?”

  She shrugs. “Where’d you?”

  “Point taken.” Of course she’d know how to play pool, it was a pastime growing up, although they called it billiards in our circles.

  “Do you think you can beat me?” She’s confident now, full of sass and power.

  I’m almost struck dumb by a visual image of putting her on the table, lifting her skirt, and smacking her ass until it melts right out of her. I smirk. “Shall we wager?”

  Her honey eyes flash with interest. “That will make things more interesting.”

  I’d say the things that are interesting between Veronica and me are growing by the second. It’s quite clear that there’s something between us. Something that isn’t willing to be denied. I shift my stance, turning to face her more directly. We’re a touch too close, edging into a dangerous territory.

  Her chin tilts.

  “It would.” I travel the length of her, pausing on her hard nipples, visible under the fabric. With her backless dress that almost gave me a coronary the second she turned around, she’s not wearing a bra and I want nothing more than to ask her how her breasts feel abrading the silk.

  Calling attention to the sensation would have a ripple effect. One she’d dismiss at first with a laugh and maybe a roll of her eyes. It would float out of her head, but before long it would boomerang. She’d move and become hyperaware of her nipples rubbing against the fabric. She’d try and ignore it, but before long it would be all she could think about.

  I frown. Or at least that’s how it works with submissive girls. I peer into her eyes, trying to discover the truth of her, but all I can read is hunger.

  Her brow creases. “Why are you frowning?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  It’s disconcerting I have no idea how to handle my attraction to her. What’s worse is I have no idea how to broach a subject that’s not been on the table, nor should it be. I’m quite sure Veronica has never come close to experiencing sex the way I need it. And I do need it. Dominance is not optional for me. It just is, and has been for a long time. I have no experience with a woman never exposed to submission.

  Once, both Jillian and Ruby were novices, having no knowledge or understanding of their nature. Ruby went as far as outright disgust at any hint of power exchange. Only, with them, it was easier somehow. I’d known from the second I laid eyes on them they were submissive. While I’d seen Layla at my club, and met her when she was already well involved with Michael, she still would have been obvious to me.

  It’s always been like a homing device. But that normal skill eludes me with Veronica. She’s like a mystery. But she doesn’t instinctively lower her gaze, even when I give her my most intent, most focused expression. A habit even the most defiant submissive girls seem to have when in the presence of a strong dominant.

  Veronica doesn’t even flicker. She just stares right back at me. Unwavering. Like a dare. Challenging me.

  I don’t know what to make of her. All I know is that attraction and chemistry burns between us, and she’s not giving me any of the normal signs I’ve come to expect.

  Her tongue flicks over her lower lip. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  If I didn’t have an audience, I’m not sure I would be able to keep myself from grasping her chin tight in my hand, but I’m well aware my friends are looking on with interest. I tilt my head. “I’m looking for the same thing I was looking for that night on the balcony.”

  Her expression widens with recognition. “Any luck?”

  “Nope.”

  Our gazes become tangled and interwoven. An entire unspoken conversation passes between us.

  She finally breaks, and while she doesn’t look away she does gesture toward the table. “Our wager?”

  “Any suggestions?” My voice is low, far too seductive.

  Her hand flutters to the silver chain at her neck. “If I win, I want you to buy me a drink.”

  A smile touches the corner of my lips. “Have you paid for a drink all night?”

  Her attention shifts to my friends pretending to be engrossed in conversation when I know they are hanging on my every interaction with Veronica. She shakes her head. “Alone. After we leave.”

  She’s bold. I’ll give her that. I glance down at her mouth. “And if I win?”

  She smiles. “What do you want?”

  “You don’t know?”

  She shrugs one shoulder. “I do, and I don’t. Name your price.”

  “If I win, I have a business lunch Saturday afternoon. You’ll go with me.” The delight that fills her features makes me laugh. “We have a deal?”

  Her chin tilts. “I’ll go with you even if you lose.”

  “I know.” Because of course she will. Just like we’ll end up going for a drink if she does.

  “So game on?”

  I nod. “Game on.”

  What follows is a vicious battle where we are neck and neck, until the final ball.

  She lines up, her stance rock solid. Her muscles flex as she draws back the stick.

  The crack of balls. I watch as the eight ball rolls smoothly into the left corner pocket.

  I’ve lost.

  She beams at me. “I win.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Jillian says, pointing at me. “She beat you.”

  Veronica laughs.

  I raise a brow. “We’ll have to rematch soon.”

  I’m not surprised she’s beaten me. Not only is she skilled, I have a distinct disadvantage in that I’m completely distracted by her. If I’m being honest, I don’t like it. I don’t like it one fucking bit.

  Veronica Westwood is dangerous.<
br />
  I should end this, but I already know I’m not going to do that. She’s too addictive. And I haven’t come close to satisfying my appetite for her.

  I can take the loss since it will leave me alone with her, which is exactly where I want to be.

  * * *

  Veronica

  Brandon had a car come and take everyone home. I’m sitting next to him, vibrating with tension, practically insane with the anticipation licking a path along my skin. The other couples are laughing and joking, but Brandon and I have remained mostly silent.

  While he’s not touching me, our thighs are pressed together, and the fabric of his pants rubs against my bare leg like the worst kind of tease. I can’t even process how I feel. Because it’s not anything I’ve ever felt before.

  I had no idea want like this existed. Or what to do with it. All I really know is that the second we are alone something is going to happen.

  It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt. Validating my every instinct I’ve had about him. Just not in the way I’d envisioned. Come Monday I’ll discover if my career ambitions will come to fruition, but tonight, tonight this is about me. Becoming.

  We’ve already dropped off Ruby and Chad, and as Layla and Michael climb out the car, it leaves plenty of room for Brandon to move over and give me space. I’m not remotely surprised when he doesn’t. He stays right where he is, the heat of his muscle and bone searing along my nerve endings.

  Across from us, Leo and Jillian sit. Jillian is smiling, curled next to her husband. He glances at Brandon, who gives a subtle nod I don’t understand. Leo puts his hand on Jillian’s thigh, looks at me, and says, “Uncross your legs, girl.”

  His gaze is so direct on mine, for a split second I think he’s talking to me, but when Jillian goes from lazy and relaxed, to alert in a flash of an instant, I know it was in my imagination.

  Her gaze darts to me, then to Brandon. Leo squeezes her leg and she complies, uncrossing her legs but leaving them closed. Leo’s fingers curl around her thigh, inching high on her leg.

  The air stirs and I shift restlessly, unsure what’s going on. Brandon’s leg presses more firmly against mine.