by Twyla Turner
This is gonna be a long and confusing night.
Chapter Eighteen
Bradyn had to distract himself with the task of driving before he jumped Payton’s bones in his vehicle. Earlier, when her redheaded friend, Kennedy had opened the door, he’d had eyes only for Payton. She was perfection in a yellow dress. He’d practically swallowed his tongue at the image she made. Her skin was absolutely radiant. Flawless and smooth. His mouth became dry just thinking about tasting every inch of it.
Payton’s reaction to his touch had him shifting and adjusting discreetly in the driver’s seat. The blood rushing to his dick, lengthening and thickening it, felt uncomfortable in his seated position with his pants hugging him. It was no wonder. Her breath had hitched, her eyes glazed over slightly, and her mouth popped open. He even noticed her squeeze her thighs together. It wasn’t hard with his hand on her leg. Plus, Bradyn noticed everything about her. He may not have known much about women, but he knew when a woman was turned on. And he’d bet his gym that she was throbbing between her legs as much as he was.
It’s a good start.
He drove to a fancy Mediterranean restaurant nestled in Union Square. He’d called to make reservations the minute she left the gym the previous night after she’d accepted his invitation for a date. They pulled up to the front and Bradyn stepped out of the car, handing over his keys to the valet attendant. Payton moved to open her door and he turned to her.
“Stay,” he said quickly, holding up a hand.
She just looked at him in confusion and he smiled on the inside. Bradyn quickly walked around to the passenger side of the SUV and opened the door for Payton and gave her his arm to help her down. A small, but pleased smiled touched her lips. Bradyn puffed out his chest with pride. One, because on his arm was the prettiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. And two, being a gentleman was so worth it, to see a woman’s smile.
“Shall we?” He asked, sweeping his arm towards the door, playfully.
“We shall.” Payton grinned, catching on to his lighthearted mood.
They walked in and the maître d' immediately took them up to the roof to enjoy the outdoor seating. The evening was fairly warm with a cool gentle breeze blowing by. Bradyn pulled out Payton’s chair for her to sit and he envied the soft breeze and fine hairs that had escaped her bun, as they were allowed to dance along her neck, caressing the silky skin there, the way his fingertips and lips begged to do.
Unable to stop himself, Bradyn let the pads of his fingers lightly stroke over the sensitive skin of her neck. Payton trembled and Bradyn curled his fingers into fists as he walked over to sit down across from her before he did something he would regret. Well, technically, he’d never regret a chance to touch or taste her. He’d only regret pushing her too hard, too soon.
“Yer not too cold are ye?” Bradyn asked, knowingly. He was positive that it was his touch that had made her shiver, not the cool air, but he wanted to see her reaction if he brought it up.
“Uh…no. No, I’m fine.” Payton looked away bashfully.
She quickly picked up her menu, trying to find anything to focus on besides him. Bradyn let her slide and reached for his own menu.
“So, I wasna sure what food ye liked. I figured Mediterranean was a safe bet. There’s always something for every person to enjoy, no matter their taste buds.” Bradyn informed her after they’d decided on what they wanted.
“It was a good choice. I like Mediterranean food. I like most foods. Can’t you tell?” Payton gestured the length of her plump body in a self-deprecating manner.
Bradyn opened his mouth to speak, but the waiter took that moment to come and take their orders. He scowled across the table at Payton, but she made sure she kept her eyes on the napkin on her lap, the menu or the waiter. The minute their server walked away, Bradyn leaned forward, getting his beautiful date’s attention.
“Dinna do that.” Bradyn practically growled. “Yer gorgeous. Every inch of ye. From the top of yer little bun there to the tips of yer painted toes. And I take personal offense when ye insult yerself. Since yer basically saying my taste in women is fer shit.”
Bradyn smirked as he watched Payton squeeze her lips together, trying to stifle her laughter.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to inadvertently insult you.” Payton said with a straight face, though laughter danced in her eyes.
Bradyn felt ten feet tall that he’d made her feel good and made her laugh, though she tried to hide it.
“So is that why ye started coming to my gym?”
“Uh…basically,” she hedged.
“Basically? What does that mean?”
“Well…um…if I’m being honest, about a month or so ago, all of us girls decided to try to be more open. In regards to men. T-There w-were some guys I thought I could be interested in at work, but I overheard them say they preferred girls with nice bodies. And that’s putting it nicely. Their actual wording was quite rude and turned me off. But I figured that statistically speaking, most men would agree with them and so I thought that it would be advantageous if I lost some weight.” Payton ended with a shrug, her eyes cast downward to her lap.
Bradyn was finding that Payton was a very honest person. To a fault. She didn’t know how to not tell the whole truth. Which was how he knew she’d nicknamed him The Red Giant. He loved her candor. It helped him know what she was thinking and feeling, so he could act accordingly.
“Payton…” he paused, waiting for her to look up. “Did ye know that I got sucker punched in the face the first day I laid eyes on ye when ye first walked into my gym?”
“N-No.” She blinked at him in disbelief.
“Weel, I did. And by a teenager no less. The moment I saw ye, I was gobsmacked. I swear te ye, the whole world disappeared. Including that little shit that blindsided me with a right hook. And all that was before ye’d even lost a pound. I thought then that ye were the bonniest lass I’d ever laid eyes on.” Bradyn laid out his own truth. He figured it couldn’t hurt and she needed to hear it.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
Even through the lens of her glasses, Bradyn could see the telltale moisture in her eyes.
“Ye dinna have to say anything. No’ every man prefers the same type of steak, for lack of a better analogy. I’m a big man and need more than a thin skirt steak to satisfy me. If ye ask me, there’s nothing better than a thick juicy porterhouse. Something I don’t have to be gentle with and that I can sink my teeth into.” Bradyn proclaimed as he imagined biting gently into the flesh of her thick thighs as he made his way down…
Payton’s silence pulled him out of his fantasy. The shocked look on her face made him sit up straighter and clear his throat. He hadn’t meant to get that carried away with his description. He literally felt the heat creep up his neck and move rather quickly up to his roots. Nice going! Ye probably just scared her away fer good.
“I mean… That is to say…” Bradyn fumbled over his words. “Och, te hell with it! I like yer curves and I willna apologize for it.” He nodded emphatically.
Harrumph, that’ll show her! He thought sarcastically. Just shut yer pus!
“Thank you, Bradyn,” Payton said softly.
He sat back. Shocked that she hadn’t gotten offended by his tasteless comparison to her and a piece of meat. Plus, hearing his name on her lips, he realized that she’d never said his name out loud before. It was the sweetest sound ever. Though he was pretty sure that the sound of her gasping his name would sound even better. Baby steps.
“There’s nothing wrong with trying to be healthier. But there’s also nothing wrong with having some meat on yer bones as well. Ye dinna have to kill yerself at the gym or stop eating foods ye enjoy. What’s the point in living longer if ye hate every minute of it because everyone around ye is eatin’ cake and drinking beer?” Bradyn ended on a joke.
Payton laughed softly and nodded her agreement.
“You’ve got a point. Though it’s easy for you to say. You’re a…uh…real
ly physically fit athlete.” Payton swallowed as she took in his physique above the table.
Bradyn felt the blood rush to his cock to fill his pants once more. For once she was looking at his body with barely banked desire, instead of the disgust she once had for his muscles.
He shook his head to clear it of his wayward dirty thoughts and brought it back to the conversation. “Remember, I wasna always in good shape. I was the unpopular fat kid. Once I got into mixed martial arts, I got even fitter to be a better competitor. This level of fitness for an everyday person with a 9 to 5 job is no’ realistic. If ye want to be healthier, go for it. Just know that yer beautiful either way.” Bradyn paused and smirked at her. “So…yer liking my muscles a wee bit more, are ye?”
“Negative,” Payton said quickly.
Too quickly. He could tell that she was fibbing.
“Tell me about Scotland,” she changed the subject.
Bradyn smiled and got a faraway look in his eyes as he thought about his home. It was about time for a visit. Maybe this time I’ll have someone to bring home to meet my family.
“My family are Highlanders. Of the Clan MacTavish.” Bradyn’s voice deepened and his accent thickened. “We MacTavishes are a rowdy brood. Warriors, storytellers, scotch drinkers, and the charmers of bonnie lasses.”
Bradyn grinned mischievously, using the same phrases his father would always use when boasting proudly about their bloodline. And apparently, it worked. Payton leaned forward, fully engrossed.
“The Scottish Highlands are a rough and brutal, yet beautiful place. Only the toughest and strongest could survive…”
~~~
They spent the next hour eating and talking about Scotland, Chicago, and Payton’s friends. Bradyn was shocked with the ease in which he was able to talk to Payton. His tongue loosened up and actual, coherent words fell out of his mouth. It was the most he’d ever talked to a female that wasn’t blood-related. He figured there were advantages to dating someone as equally as awkward as he was. She put him at ease. He didn’t have to worry about being perfect because she wasn’t either. Which, in a sense, was perfect. At least for the both of them.
“I could tell that Mia was a force to be reckoned with, but she’s going te give some lucky guy a run fer his money one day.” Bradyn shook his head in wonder at the stories Payton was telling him about her most notorious friend.
“You have no idea. But she’s the best. Always guaranteed to entertain.” Payton got a faraway look in her eyes. “They all are. They saved my life.”
“How so?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” she avoided the question. It was obvious that she hadn’t meant to say the last part out loud.
As anxious as Bradyn was to know everything about this woman, he knew that he couldn’t push her. When she was ready, she’d tell him everything. At least he hoped that they’d continue to see each other in order to get to that level of trust.
“Uh…excuse me for a moment. I need to visit the restroom.” Payton said awkwardly as she moved to stand.
Bradyn politely stood and then slowly sat back down as he watched her walk away. She probably didn’t know it, but in those wedge heels, Payton’s ass swayed seductively, hypnotizing like a swinging pendulum. Bradyn guessed she probably didn’t think she had a seductive bone in her body. Weel, she’d be wrong.
“What’s up, Red Scot?” A voice startled Bradyn out of his daydream.
Bradyn glanced up in time to see his arch rival take a seat in Payton’s recently vacated chair. Rhett Matson. Bradyn inwardly groaned.
Rhett was also a big man, though an inch or two shorter than Bradyn. He was handsome and charming to Bradyn’s gruff and brooding. Though in the short time that Bradyn had known Rhett, something didn’t seem quite right about the other man. As if his charm was all an act.
Bradyn had been a fan favorite and UFC Champion for quite a few years. No one had really challenged him. But then this guy came up from virtually nowhere, making a name for himself. And the rivalry was on the minute Rhett actively told people that his main goal was to take the title from The Red Scot. After he won every match, in his post-match news conferences, he’d say, “One step closer to snatching the title out of MacTavish’s broken and bloody hands.” Their match was due in a couple of months. Bradyn was looking forward to it. He was ready to put this pretty boy in his place. Almost every UFC fan was waiting with bated breath for the matchup of the century.
“Matson,” Bradyn said with zero inflection.
“Got a hot date?” Rhett grinned and flashed his perfect white teeth. Bradyn wanted to knock a couple loose.
“I dinna think that’s any of yer business,” Bradyn fairly growled.
Rhett held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, calm down, MacTavish. I was just wondering why you’re out on a date instead of training. I want to make sure you’re focused on the match. I don’t wanna stomp your ass that easily. I mean, I know I will anyway. I’d just prefer it to be a little bit of a challenge.”
“Oh, don’t worry, wee Matson.” Bradyn insulted and Rhett squinted his eyes at him being referenced as ‘wee.’ “I’ll have ye so twisted up, ye’ll be deep throating yer own cock.”
Bradyn watched Rhett’s jaw tick. He smiled inside.
“Worry about your own cock MacTavish and make sure you stay balls deep in that hot piece of black pussy, and leave the championship title to me. Hell, I’d probably give away the title too if I was pounding on that fat ass.” Rhett shot back, looking at something in the distance.
Bradyn bristled and stood up so quickly that the table nearly tipped over. His fists were balled up at his sides and his nostrils flared like an angry bull. He was seconds away from holding their match in the middle of the fancy restaurant.
“Easy, bro.” Rhett stood up as well. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”
And with that, he quickly walked away just as Payton walked up.
“Who was that?” She frowned at the scowl marring his brow.
“No one,” Bradyn said taking deep breaths to calm the rage coursing through him.
Bradyn saw a shiver run through Payton as she stared at Rhett’s retreating back.
“Are ye cold? We’ll be getting out of here shortly.”
“No, I’m not cold. I just got a weird feeling for some reason.” Payton said as she rubbed her arms.
Bradyn could see that her normally smooth skin was raised with goosebumps.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Bradyn pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, pulled out two one hundred dollar bills and threw them down on the table, not waiting for the check. He knew the money would cover their meal and tip, and then some.
“Take a walk with me?” Bradyn asked placing his hand on the small of Payton’s back.
“O-Okay,” she said softly.
Bradyn felt a new wave of tremors course through her at his touch and watched as a fresh batch of goosebumps rose up on her skin. His groin tightened in response. He had never been more aware of a woman as he was with Payton.
Why do I get the feeling that I’ll be learning a lot about restraint an’ willpower spending time with this one?
Chapter Nineteen
They walked a few blocks to Market St. in relative silence. Payton was so deep in thought about how her first date was going that she was too distracted to talk. She was still in shock over her reaction to The Gentle Giant throughout dinner. The whole time Bradyn was talking about Scotland, with his deep brogue and playful smiles, all Payton wanted to do was stand up, lean across the table, and kiss him on his firm pink lips.
She hadn’t wanted to do anything like that since her freshman year of college when she was sitting across from Brett at a table at the library. After what he had eventually tried to do to her, she hadn’t entertained those type of thoughts in over a decade. She’d never admitted it to anyone, even the girls, but she kind of felt like she’d brought it on herself.
Payton had wished and prayed tha
t Brett would give her the time of day. She’d stared at him. Pined away for him. Did everything she could to be around him. She wondered if she had opened the door for his harsh and rough treatment of her. Like she was asking for it. She knew that it wasn’t logical thinking. Especially, considering so many girls had come forward with the same accusations. But she still had to wonder.
Now she was faced with those same feelings, yet even stronger this time around, towards Bradyn. If she entertained those thoughts once more, would he do the same? He’d said he would never hurt her, but she just didn’t know. People were willing to say anything to get their way sometimes.
“Let’s take the trolley down to the pier,” Bradyn suggested.
“Alright.”
Bradyn placed his hand on the small of her back as they quickly walked across the street to catch the little historical tram. Every time he put his hand there, Payton couldn’t stop the tremors from rattling her.
They hopped on the next trolley car and Bradyn paid the conductor for their tickets. The car was crowded with mainly tourist. It was a beautiful spring night and everyone was taking advantage of it. So there was standing room only in the cramped space. Random strangers were brushing against Payton and she flinched away, trying to make space for herself. She felt hands and other unknown body parts brush up against her and she was ready to scream for a cease and desist after only a few seconds on the trolley.
Bradyn must have sensed her impending mental breakdown because he moved behind her. He spread his legs in a slightly wider stance to go on either side of her. His chest, shoulders, and corded arms cocooned her upper body as he reached around her and placed his hands on the pole, just above hers. Payton felt his breath against the side of her face as he bent his head towards her.
“Easy, lass. I willna let anyone touch ye.” Bradyn said soothingly.
Payton knew he was trying to be helpful, but he inadvertently gave her a whole new set of problems. As he spoke in her ear, the soft bristles of his beard and the soft skin of his lips grazed the shell of her ear and something absolutely foreign happened to her in that moment. Payton’s insides quite literally exploded with sensations. Her senses were suddenly so hyper aware that she didn’t know if she was coming or going. Her eyes saw every detail of his large rough hands, from the tiny scars from fighting to the freckles that traveled up his fair-colored arms. Her nose breathed in his cologne that combined with a scent she could only describe as wholly…masculine. She could swear he smelled so good that she could taste him on her tongue and her mouth literally watered. And lastly, her skin prickled with awareness. She could feel the slightest breeze, the cotton fabric of her dress clinging to her feverish skin, and his body that aligned with hers from head to toe.