by Kendall Ryan
“Bray?” I whispered.
“Shh . . .” He pressed a fingertip to my lips. “Just lie back and let me make you come.”
I fell back against the pillow once again, breathless and full of conflicting emotions. I wanted this—I wanted him—but I wanted more than just a physical connection. Braydon knew my body better than I did, and he used it to his full advantage. Within moments of his hot mouth closing around my lady parts, I was writhing and coming apart for him.
After he’d finished feasting on me and nibbling on my thighs and hip bones, he grabbed a condom from the bedside table and rolled it on. “I want to fuck you from behind, baby.”
“What’s your favorite position?” I murmured as I rolled on my stomach, remembering how fond he seemed of this one in particular.
“I think you know.” He leaned over me and bit my shoulder.
I yelped and turned my head to glare back at him. He bent his head and tenderly kissed the spot he’d just bitten. “But why do you like it like this?”
“Honestly? I can usually make girls come really easily this way. I think my piercing hits the right spot.”
A shiver zipped down my spine. I didn’t want to think about him with other women, though his confidence was a turn-on.
“Grab on to that sexy ass while I push slowly inside you.”
I did as I was told and Braydon entered me as promised, exquisitely, slowly while pressing sweet, sucking kisses against the back of my neck. He was right about something, this position, this angle . . . it was a deadly combination. My bottom was lifting to meet his thrusts and I was moaning in pleasure into the pillow in front of me.
Once we were both thoroughly satisfied, Braydon disposed of the condom and took me in his arms, kissing my mouth in gentle little nips. I closed my eyes and let the feeling of complete bliss wash over me.
“On a scale of one to sex, how awesome was that?” Braydon chuckled and tucked me securely in against his side. “Shit, kitten. You’re amazing.”
I lay there, with my heart still pounding and body still clenching with the loss of him, and wondered how I could possibly hold it together. How stupid could I have been to think casual sex with him was going to be enough? I’d always been a commitment, flowers, and romance kind of girl, even if I hadn’t been getting the full package from the last few guys I dated. A powerful surge of emotion ripped through me as Braydon held me, murmuring sweet things in my ear.
I felt like crying. I was already falling for him, and there was no way he was going to reciprocate my feelings. He’d made it abundantly clear that whatever was happening between us was just sex.
God, I felt like an idiot.
At times he was so careful and affectionate with me, it felt like anything but a random hookup.
“You want to shower before bed?” he asked.
I hadn’t really assumed I’d be spending the night here. I thought this was a place to hook up and then I’d go back home and sleep in my own bed. I didn’t have pajamas, my toothbrush . . . not to mention I didn’t relish the idea of the walk of shame in the morning, dressed in yesterday’s clothes.
I sat up abruptly, knowing this wouldn’t work for me. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping here.”
“Why not?” He patted the space beside him. “King-sized bed. Plenty of space, even for a bed hog like you.”
I got out of bed on shaky legs. I knew the scent of this man, his tastes, his preferences, the soft throaty way he cursed when he entered me. Sex brought out far more emotion for me. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I wasn’t cut out to be one of his arrangements. The act of sex was far more intimate in my view than Braydon believed. It brought a certain closeness that I couldn’t shake. I thought of him constantly, remembering the feel of his rough hands on my skin, the way his teeth grazed my neck with every thrust forward. . . .
“Let’s face it. We’re supposed to be fuck pals, right?” I bit out. His jaw tensed, but he didn’t argue. “That’s all this is. And we’re getting too close, too familiar. I know how you like your eggs, that you like to take a shower after sex and stay in there for exactly seven minutes. I know that you prefer classical music and jazz, which beers are your favorite. . . .”
Braydon sat up on the bed, studying me with curiosity. “This isn’t what we agreed to. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I wanted to scream at him; I didn’t want him to be sorry. I wanted him to take me in his arms, fuck logic, fuck all our rules, and make me his. He said all along he felt this powerful connection between us—wasn’t that enough for him to want to be with me?
But instead, he continued watching me with a weary expression while rubbing the back of his neck. “Shall I call you a cab then?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I can grab one right outside the hotel, I’m sure.” I just needed out of this room, out of this space that smelled of him, of us, of sex. I needed away from his pretty blue eyes, which always saw too much, before I lost it entirely. Stuffing my feet into my shoes, I dashed for the door. I heard Braydon release a muted curse word just before the door closed. Tears were already swimming in my eyes, so I was thankful for the cover of night.
As soon as I was in the darkened backseat of the yellow cab, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably while trying to give the poor driver my address. I settled for pointing and stuttering through my tears at the upcoming intersections. The rush of tears had been building for too long, and I could do nothing to stop it. The cab driver handed me a box of tissues and mumbled something in response to my hiccupping my address at him.
I folded my arms around myself, holding tightly. I hated that I could remember how Braydon’s hands felt on my skin, the tender way he held me close, the exquisitely slow way he slid deep inside me, the way his breath whispered softly across my lips moments before he kissed me. I scrubbed my hands over my face, wiping away the stupid tears dampening my cheeks. It was foolish to waste tears on him. He and I would never be more. I knew what this was when we started it. He’d pursued me relentlessly, and I’d stupidly agreed to be his fuck friend. I thought I’d be in control, but now I saw that would never be possible. You couldn’t not fall for a man like him. He was beautiful, kind, funny, and seriously really fucking good in bed. It really wasn’t fair. And now he’d put my life through a blender. He was all I thought about, everything I wanted. And I couldn’t have him.
I pulled in a shaky breath and forced myself to hold it together. Soon the cab was pulling to a stop in front of my building. I shoved thirty dollars at the driver and climbed from the car, my sore body cruelly reminding me of my intimate encounter with Braydon.
Once inside my silent and familiar apartment, I padded to my bedroom, undressed, and climbed under the covers. It was obvious I wasn’t cut out for casual sex. Yet I knew with absolute certainty I wasn’t doing anything to stop Braydon’s pursuit of me.
8
The following day, I woke up with a clearer sense of myself. I was glad I hadn’t stayed in that hotel room when I’d felt uncomfortable. Waking up in my own bed had done me some good. I felt the tiniest bit more in control. I was in too deep with this arrangement with Braydon and I needed to maintain some semblance of control. Later that day, Emmy called.
“Hey, are you almost ready?” Emmy’s voice crackled through a bad connection on her cell.
“Ready for what?” I asked.
It was clear she didn’t hear me because she kept right on with her questions. “And are you guys driving separately or is the limo picking you up?”
“Emmy, what are you talking about?”
The static in the phone crackled and faded, and Emmy went silent. “Oh. Shit, Ells, I’m sorry, I just assumed you were coming tonight with Braydon.”
“Coming where?” Now my curiosity was piqued. Apparently they were all headed somewhere tonight. And I wasn’t invited.
“It’s um, a gala honoring the best male models in the business. Both Ben and Braydon received nominations for awards.”
“
Oh.” It sounded pretty significant. A huge honor for Braydon, and he hadn’t mentioned a thing. I guess that told me where I ranked on his list of priorities. Getting his tux cleaned was above Call Ellie on his to-do list. “It’s fine, Emmy. Have fun tonight.”
“Nonsense, put your best cocktail dress on and throw your hair up into one of those pretty up-dos you’re so good at. You’ll come with me and Ben. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
I was so not okay with accepting a pity invite. And I certainly didn’t want to play third wheel all night. Hell no. If Braydon had wanted to see me tonight, he would have invited me. I had standards. Shit, I wasn’t going to show up and beg for his attention. Though the idea of wearing a sexy cleavage-baring dress to tease him was intriguing, I would never go where I wasn’t welcome. “Emmy, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Go to the gala, have fun, and don’t give it another thought. I just ordered a pizza, and I’m in yoga pants cruising Netflix. I’m cool with a night in by myself.” Especially since I was planning to have a good cry once I hung up the phone.
“This is awkward, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just assumed you’d be joining Braydon as his plus one.”
“No, he never mentioned it. It’s totally cool, sweetie.” Lies. All lies. I was crushed. It hurt like hell, but no one needed to know my inner turmoil. “I told you we’re not dating.” And he seemed reluctant to be seen with me in public. His comment about walking red carpets alone came rushing back to taunt me. “Listen, have a great time, take lots of pictures, and I hope Ben wins.” I forced a smile onto my face to try to sound cheery.
“Thanks, I hope either Ben or Braydon wins. That’d be fantastic!”
I chuckled, realizing a win for Ben would really stick it to their nemesis, Fiona. It would show that he no longer needed the backing of a big modeling agency. “Have fun tonight.”
“You too,” Emmy said, a hint of sadness in her voice.
I hated myself for it, but after talking to her I sulked for the remainder of the night. After overdoing it on ice cream, I felt sick and anxious. I finally decided to just call it a night and go to bed, knowing I’d never be able to live with myself if I purposely waited up for his call.
When I was finally drifting off to sleep, my phone chimed with a new text. I reached frantically for my phone, hoping it was him. My heart kicked up in my chest, beating in a steady rhythm.
Braydon: You asleep?
So it was a less-than-inspiring text, but still, it proved he was thinking of me. A quick check of the clock informed me it was already two in the morning. I considered not responding—letting him wonder if maybe I was out on the town. I clutched my phone in the darkness, debating what to do. I realized by not responding I’d only be punishing myself. I wanted to talk to him. Besides, Emmy probably mentioned my night in with Netflix.
Me: Not yet. What’s up?
There. I kept it casual and breezy. Not overly needy.
Braydon: I was thinking about you.
A sleepy smile curled my lips upward. Okay, so he was being sweet. Rather than chastise him for not inviting me along, or this apparent late-night booty call, I decided to play nice.
Me: How was tonight?
Braydon: Fine. I didn’t win. Neither did Ben. I went to the afterparty and got trashed, though. And I’m pretty sure Ben and Emmy fucked in the coat closet.
I rolled my eyes. That sounded like them. I wanted to ask why he didn’t tell me about the event, but didn’t want him to know I was hurt by the lack of invite. Things between us were supposed to be easy and light.
Braydon: I want you.
I stared at his words, deciding what I wanted. Earlier, I probably would’ve jumped at the attention. Now I was feeling stronger and more in control.
Me: I’m in bed.
Braydon: I’ll join you.
Me: Not tonight.
I waited for him to write something back, to try and coax me into it in a cute, sexy way, but no reply ever came.
I was thankful our conversation had been through text, rather than face-to-face. I knew my hurt and contempt would’ve risen to the surface. He would have read me like a book. He had a knack for that. I just didn’t understand why he didn’t invite me along tonight as a friend. I knew we weren’t an item. He’d made that abundantly clear. Something nagged in the back of my head and I vowed to get to the bottom of Braydon’s strange, secretive behavior—first about his apartment and also about being seen in public with a woman.
I rolled over, hugging a pillow to my chest, and went to sleep. I’d figure out my next move in the morning.
• • •
I took myself out to Sunday brunch the next day, putting on an air of confidence and reminding myself I didn’t need a man. I dined at a pricey neighborhood restaurant in a dress and a strand of pearls. While I happily sipped a mimosa and nibbled on chocolate chip pancakes, I celebrated myself. I was a strong, confident woman. A scientist, for heaven’s sake. I didn’t need a man like Braydon Kincaid to make me feel worthy.
Stuffing a bite of sausage into my mouth, I vowed then and there I would make him communicate better with me. I deserved that much, at least. I needed to know where I stood with him, what this was between us, and why I couldn’t go to his apartment. I swallowed the bite and washed it down with the rest of the delicious orange juice–and-champagne combination, feeling so much better and in control for the first time in days.
On my walk back home, Emmy called and I picked up my phone.
“Hey, you busy today?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Wanna come to a shoot with me? Ben and Bray are being photographed together for a small local magazine. I thought it might be fun to see.”
I wondered if this was her attempt at fixing things between me and Braydon after the gala snub.
“Sure.” I’d love the chance to see Braydon at work.
“Cool. I’ll pick you up in fifteen.”
“Make it twenty. I’m not quite home yet. Wait. What should I wear?” I wanted to look stylish. It wasn’t every day you crashed a photo shoot.
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll be behind the scenes, remember?”
“Of course.” I was being silly. But that didn’t stop me from putting on my most fashionable black ankle pants, cute black and sparkly ballet flats, and a designer cream-colored silk blouse. I fixed my long dark locks in a low ponytail and added lip gloss, then studied myself in the mirror. There. At least I felt more put-together. I was ready.
When Emmy arrived, she sent a text letting me know and I jogged down the four flights of stairs to the waiting black sedan chauffeured by Henry.
“You look cute,” Emmy noted, looking me over.
I felt cute, too. But mostly just excited to surprise Braydon. There was no reason things needed to feel weird between us. We just needed to talk things over. I was convinced we could fix this.
“Ready?”
“Yup.”
I listened while Emmy filled me in on the details of their charity. Things were going quite well and Ben was taking on fewer modeling jobs to devote more time to their very worthy cause of helping children in need. It was quite admirable.
Soon we were rolling to a stop by an old, run-down building. It didn’t look like much, but I quickly saw its potential. The photographer was using the rough brick façade as a rugged backdrop to capture his subjects. Ben and Braydon were stationed against the wall, each striking brilliant poses as the photographer clicked away. They were dressed casually—each in jeans, Braydon in a simple black T-shirt, and Ben in a white button-down.
Emmy and I approached from the far side, staying out of their line of vision, not wanting to distract them. This world was entirely new to me, but Emmy seemed a bit more comfortable, waving to the makeup artist and moving with authority to the sidelines.
We chatted with a set designer, the editor for the magazine, and nibbled on snacks from the catering table. While Emmy went to talk with the makeup artist she seemed to kn
ow from another shoot, I sat down on a brick ledge near the edge of the building to watch the shoot. I didn’t realize a photo shoot could last so long, and just when I’d grown bored with waiting around for Braydon to finish, a bubbly blonde with bouncy curls plopped down beside me.
“He’s stunning, isn’t he?” I assumed she meant Ben because he was the more well known of the two, but a quick glance up told me her gaze was pinned on Braydon.
“Yes, he is.” No denying that fact. The man was frickin’ sex on a stick. Lickable in every way. And I would know. Just the memory of our naughty hotel room encounter made my skin heat up.
Her smile faltered ever so slightly as she sized me up. Pushing her thick blond curls over one shoulder, she offered me her hand. “I’m Katrina.”
“Hi, I’m Ellie.” I returned her handshake. “Are you one of the . . . set workers?” I didn’t know the right terms. My newbie status was obvious.
She laughed a light musical sound. “No. Just . . . an admirer.”
Oh. “Of Ben Shaw or Braydon Kincaid?” I wondered out loud.
“Braydon.” The familiar way his name rolled from her lips set off a warning bell in my head. “What about you?” she asked.
I flushed pink. How did I explain our arrangement to a perfect stranger? “Oh, I’ve been, um, sort of seeing him,” I said softly.
“Really?” This seemed to surprise her, her eyebrows lifting high up her forehead.
I couldn’t get over the unmistakable feeling that something wasn’t quite right. “Do you know him?” She’d said she was just an admirer, but I sensed they had a past.
“Yes. He and I . . .” she stopped herself. “Doesn’t matter. But I know how he can be, and commitment is tough for him.”
I nodded, spellbound. I wondered if she’d been one of his past arrangements. My heart pumped wildly in my chest.