Embrace

by Fernandez, Michelle

  “Hey.” His voice is but a whisper, yet it fills the line and sucks the air out of my lungs.

  “Hi,” I say hesitantly.

  “I’m sorry, Dorothy.” Brody’s voice is low, and his apologetic sigh is audible. “I’m sorry for . . .”

  For lying to me?

  “Sorry for what?” I snap, wishing that I should have seen the signs of him being a playboy from the moment we met at the club. “Something came up, right?”

  “Yes. No,” he stumbles.

  “Which one is it, Brody? Yes, you’re sorry and something came up? Or no, you’re not sorry and nothing came up?”

  “Of course, I’m sorry. And nothing came up. . . I had some thinking to do.”

  “Thinking, huh?” I sound like a bitch, but he deserves it. “What kind of thinking?”

  “I don’t want to do this over the phone with you. We need to talk.”

  A moment of silence passes as I press my lips together, before I reply, “Talk about how you lied, about everything.”

  “Yes . . . I did lie to you.”

  “Lied that you forgot or lied about your dad?”

  “Both.”

  My heart goes hollow as nothing gets me so enraged than someone who lies. “Why, Brody? I don’t get it. You delivered flowers and lunch to my office and gave me a panty-dropping kiss only to leave me hanging.”

  His seductive chuckle rings through the line. “Did you say panty-dropping?”

  Damn this third glass of wine.

  My face plants firmly in my palm. I can’t believe I said that. “That’s beside the point, Reinhardt. Why are you calling after almost two days of being MIA? Is this your way of breaking up with me? Because I’d like to know if—‍”

  “Delilah, slow down. Can I please get a word in?” He cuts me off with a bit of a chuckle.

  “You think this is funny?” I drink the rest of my wine and I get a slight head rush.

  “I’m not laughing.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Dorothy, give me a chance to explain.”

  “Don’t Dorothy me,” I snap, tossing my napkin on the table as I rise from my chair. The image of Sophia kissing Brody flashes in my head, the picture with his mom and sister, and the other article with all the allegations.

  I quickly exit the restaurant, so I don’t embarrass myself when my voice escalates. My wedged heels scrape the gravel as I make a left at the fork, the string of lights hanging from the trees illuminates my path.

  I stifle a laugh. “You had me going for a while. So, who is she?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re answering questions with questions I’m sure you already have an answer to,” I grunt. “Lie by omission. Real smooth, Reinhardt.”

  “I need to know what I’m omitting first.” His statement comes with another chuckle.

  “Do you find me amusing?”

  “Yes. I also find you sexy when you’re angry. I like this side of you.”

  I enter my gated area, take out my key card. “Where have you been the last couple of days, Brody?”

  He lets out a breath and I picture him cupping the back of his neck trying to form words. “Like I said, I had some thinking to do.”

  “So, did you finish thinking?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “You scare me, Delilah.”

  “Scare you?” I insert the key card to unlock my suite.

  “Yes. Shitless.”

  “What the . . . ?” My voice is but a whisper when I open the door.

  Sunflowers and scattered petals all over the wooden floor fill my room. My eyes dart to the few candles, each flickering against the walls of the tent. Then I spot someone standing in the middle of the space.

  The protest dies on my lips after recovering from the shock. I’m still angry and yet, I welcome the sight of Brody. I either want to punch him or wrap my arms around him, I’m not sure which.

  The dark blue Henley and blue jeans makes him even more handsome. He gives me that shy smile that curls up at the corner of his mouth and does something to my insides. I don’t have time to process his presence as he steps closer.

  “I-I don’t understand,” I say, staring at the man filling the space of my room.

  “I’m scared shitless . . . of losing you, Delilah,” he continues speaking into the cell phone as our eyes lock. “You deserve to be put on a pedestal. You deserve to be spoiled, flowers and all that stuff women love. You deserve someone that will always put a smile on your beautiful face. And you deserve a better man than me.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. My breath hitches as emotion overwhelms my logic. Tears pool in my eyes and I’m doing everything in my power to not break down and cry.

  “I’m here to grovel and tell you I will give it my best shot. If you’ll still have me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Brody

  I take the cell phone still pressed against her ear from her hand, push the red button, and set it on the table. “God, I missed you.”

  “And what about all those women?”

  “What women? What in the world are you talking about?” I ask, now I’m confused.

  She skirts past me, grabs the tablet on the nightstand, and presses the button. The screen lights up and it’s a photo of Sophia, other women, and me. My head hangs forward and I shake it. When I bring my head back up, our eyes meet. “Those are old photos pulled from some paparazzi’s archives.”

  “And the assault charges?” Her words cut through the air. How the hell did she find out? The one thing I tried to keep from her was dug up from the grave of my past.

  “False allegations,” I correct. “She lied about the whole thing because I dumped her and—‍”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better, Brody?” Her voice breaks as she takes in a breath. “This is a real shitty way to find out the real you.”

  “The old me,” I correct her again. “That’s all in the past. Please believe me.” I step closer, knowing damn well she has every right to feel this way.

  Did I fuck up? Without a shadow of a doubt, I sure as hell fucked up.

  I should have told her. So now I’m here in the middle of a candlelit room and sunflowers spread all over the floor, thanks to Catherine helping me out by giving me the information on where to find Dee to make tonight special.

  This is not at all how I wanted the night to go. I drag my fingers through my hair. “I was going to tell you, eventually.”

  “Eventually?” She tosses the tablet on the nightstand. “When? After you seduced me with candles, flowers, and wine,” she says, pointing to the bottle and glasses on the table.

  I need to convince her I’m not that guy anymore. My heart is beating so hard, I can feel it in my chest.

  “Delilah, give me three minutes to explain it all.”

  She crosses her arms across her chest, raises a brow, and nods. “I’m listening.”

  My eyes veer to the tablet and read the caption. Naval hero and most eligible bachelor, Brody Saint Clair-Reinhardt, is back in town with Delilah Marshall, a marketing manager at CJJ Public Relations. Is this the new woman in his life? Or is he back on the market and she’s his next conquest?

  “Saint Clair is my mother’s maiden name and she was my grandfather, Herbert Saint Clair’s only child. When he died, he left her everything. The money, the business, everything. I took advantage of that name, the money it came with getting what I wanted, including women. Then Gina Campbell’s allegation was the wake-up call. The Saint Clair name, it may be part of me, but it’s not who I am anymore.” I take a breath and another step toward her. “And the moment I met you, something clicked in here”—I point to my heart—“I realized how lonely my life has been.”

  “According to this, I’m your newest conquest.”

  “Paparazzi is my worst enemy and frankly, I thought I was forgotten. Apparently not.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell
me?”

  “I wanted to. But, when you told me about your past, how Todd-fucking-Meyers hurt you—‍”

  “I never told you his last name.” She cuts me off. “Brody?”

  Fuck! Open mouth, insert foot.

  I step closer, dragging my fingers through my hair, and my eyes never leaving hers. “When you ran off, that night, on our first date. I needed to know what triggered you to be so frightened. So I looked you up.”

  “You looked me up?”

  “Please don’t be mad. I needed to know so I could make it better.”

  “Make what better? Me? You had no right. I trusted you.”

  “And you still can.” My hand reaches out to her as a plea. “The moment I met you, Dee, all I thought about was you.” My hand is on her arm, testing to see if she’ll flinch, and she doesn’t. I take her hand and pull her to the bed to sit next to me.

  “The article about flings and conquests, they’re not lies. I was a spoiled punk kid. It’s not something I’m proud of. My mom had enough. After Gina dropped the charges, Mom gave me an ultimatum. Work at Saint Clair Investments or move in with my dad in San Diego. I took the latter, enlisted in the navy and I’m glad I did. I needed to get away, start fresh. And now that my mother’s anniversary is approaching, and I’m back in town, these articles are conjuring up the old me.”

  “And there are no other women?” There’s a jealous tinge to her tone as she rises from the bed and stares out the dark window.

  I wait for a beat before I come up behind her. My chest to her back and I can feel her breathing. My hands slide up and down her arms.

  “I’m falling for you, Delilah. And as much as I tried to hide from my past, I knew this day would bite me in the ass. I just didn’t think it would be a day I’m trying to romance you with sunflowers, wine, and a candlelit room.”

  She turns to face me, and I can see she’s forcing her smile down. “I’m sorry, Brody. I assumed you were—‍”

  “Shhh . . . I should be the one who’s apologizing. I’m the one who left you hanging. I’m the one who should have told you everything.”

  “So, the reason I haven’t heard from you is because you were scared of us?” Her warm hands are on my chest and our foreheads touch.

  “I have never been in a serious relationship, Dee. I don’t know how to act.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m scared of us too. My last relationship left me frightened of men, but then you came along and . . .” Her words taper off and she turns her head. With my two fingers, I pull her chin back to me.

  “And what, sweetheart?”

  “You saved me, healed me, and broke down my walls.”

  “When you asked me to come with you this weekend, I didn’t forget. I just want to make our first time together to be right. Perfect. Because from the moment I met you at the club, all I thought about was burying myself in you.”

  She looks around the room. “This is as perfect as it will get.”

  My mouth grazes her soft lips. “I want you.” A kiss. “All of you.” Another kiss, this time it lingers as I pull her in tighter. My hard chest against her softness.

  She moans softly as my mouth moves, caressing her skin down the column of her neck to her collarbone and the red spaghetti strap of her dress falls off her shoulder. The voice in my head tells me to pull her strap back up as I’m licking and nipping her skin where it left a crease.

  “Brody, please.” Her sultry voice sends a bolt of lightning straight to my boxer briefs.

  “Please what, baby? Tell me what you want me to do next,” I say as my cock presses against the confines of my jeans.

  “Take me, all of me.” She wraps her fingers around my neck and her nails scrape my skin, sending goose bumps down my spine. I lift her up as she wraps her legs around my waist.

  Thank fucking Christ.

  I wasn’t sure if it would be a cold shower and sleep in my cotton plaid bottoms kind of night.

  Not that I would complain, I’ll take what I can get.

  But my skin on hers is all I have been dreaming about. She’s what has been driving away the night terrors, and makes me want to be a better man and give her what she deserves. Soft moans escape her throat as I taste her tongue.

  My shins hit the side of the bed and I place her back on her feet. She slowly slips out of her dress and it pools at her feet.

  Holy-sweet-Jesus, I take her all in.

  My eyes go straight to the lace that barely covers her skin. My balls are heavy, and my dick craves to fill her. But first, I want to please her, worship her, adore her.

  My mouth touches hers with soft brushes. Not a second passes when her lips part and I’m accepting the invitation. Our tongues intertwine and dance to the soft music that has been playing in the background since she walked in the room.

  My fingers frame her delicate face as a desirous groan sounds in the back of my throat. I lace a row of kisses from her neck, to her shoulders, over her breasts, down her cleavage, against the skin of her stomach.

  I open my eyes and feel a scar with the pads of my fingers on the side of her ribs.

  “What happened?” I whisper, and I know she hears me. Her breath hitches as my thumb grazes over the smooth ridge of her scar.

  Her eyes tell me the answer and anger boils at how much pain she must have endured. Some scars are visible like the one I’m looking at and others I know haunt her underneath all the tough bravado she displays and all I want to do is kiss away any uncertainty she has.

  I give in to the sudden need to show her I’m nothing like that asshole. To trust I would never hurt her the way he did. To let her know she is so damn beautiful to me.

  I use my teeth to pull down her panties. Once off, she sits on the bed and I gently spread her legs, then kiss and lick my way back up to the center of her warm thighs. The scent of her pussy fills my nose as my tongue strokes the seam. I make my way to the small bundle of nerves as I hold her inner thighs apart despite her bucking and writhing.

  Lust, greed, want, and need overwhelm me.

  “You taste so fucking good, baby,” I say between licks and kisses.

  Another sexy as hell moan escapes from her throat.

  “Brody,” she pleads and the sound of my name from her mouth turns me the fuck on and I can’t stop savoring her, nor do I want to.

  My fingers press into her skin as her nails scrape my scalp, sending tingles down my spine.

  Her breathing is rapid and my heart thumps in my chest. Each stroke, lick, and touch of her sears into my memory. Her moans fuel me as my tongue fondles her sex and I drink her in as she fills my mouth with her sweet wetness.

  I pull my shirt over my head and she unclips her bra. I rise to my feet, toe off my shoes, unbutton, unzip and with one swoop, my boxers and jeans come off and my dick springs forward. I grab the condom from my pocket and sheath myself.

  “You’re so goddamn beautiful,” I say as I look down at her, chestnut hair mussed on the mattress and the bisque of her skin calling to me.

  I lose all my senses in her. She possesses my body, mind, soul, and especially my heart.

  The first thrust is a slow slide into her tightness. The look on her face is as desperate as I feel. The biting of her bottom lip, the flush of her cheeks, and the line in her forehead tells me she’s relishing in the tortuous pleasure.

  “Fuck.” I swallow and pray I don’t blow with just a few thrusts like a sixteen-year-old boy.

  I fill her completely, root to tip, and the sensation deep in the core of her pussy is unexplainable.

  My feral groan breaks the silence. The scent of sex overwhelms my senses and overpowers the burning wicks in the candlelit room.

  We flip and now she’s straddling my hips and rides me as I fondle her tits, using my fingers to pinch her nipples. Her pussy wraps around my dick like a vise when her muscles contract. I can’t take it anymore as my orgasm climbs.

  I grab ahold of her hips, guiding Delilah up and down.

 
Moan after moan.

  Groan after groan.

  Sweat beads on our skin.

  Carnal, coveting, and craving desire rolls in the cotton sheets.

  The ecstasy of our climax propels us to snap, we both come undone and let go. She continues to slide over my semi-hard cock as I release myself in her.

  “Holy fuck, baby,” I grunt through clenched teeth.

  Our labored breathing is all that can be heard in the room. But I hear something else she can’t. The cracks forming in the armor surrounding my heart, because I have fallen so hard for this woman now lying on top of my chest.

  If I thought I was scared shitless to start anything with her, now I’m even more fucking afraid I’ll lose her.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Delilah

  As I come out of my hazy sleep, I flip over and am met with an empty bed and cold sheets.

  I had about three glasses of wine and if my memory serves me correctly, I refused the fourth while questioning Brody’s disappearing act on the way back to my suite.

  Was Brody here? Was that all a figment of my imagination, a dream?

  Refocusing my vision and centering my thoughts, there’s a faint scent of burned candles in the air. On the pillow is a letter.

  I went for a run and I’ll pick up some breakfast on my way back.

  ~B

  It wasn’t a dream. Last night really did happen. It was one of the most incredible nights I have ever had.

  Brody was gentle with his hands and promising words. He made me feel beautiful, sexy, and the center of his world. He showed that I matter to him and made our first time special.

  And even though last night wasn’t a dream, I had no nightmares either. Fear no longer reigns and rules my life. Taking a deep breath in, I find myself smiling. This man has healed my spirit and helped me get back my self-worth.

  But with only a couple of hours of sleep, my mind whirls back to how unselfish he was giving me the handful of orgasms before he got himself off.