by Naomi Chase
“But what?”
“I thought you might change your mind.”
“Nah. I wouldn’t have missed your celebration.”
“Thank you.” Tamia hesitated. “Cynthia couldn’t make it?”
“No.”
“Oh,” Tamia murmured. “That’s too bad.”
Brandon gave her a knowing look.
Smothering a smile, Tamia set down her glass and picked up her plate. She speared a meatball and brought it to Brandon’s mouth. “Taste this,” she said, watching as his lips closed around the fork. “How is it?”
He chewed slowly. “Delicious.”
“Yeah? They look delicious.”
“You haven’t had one yet?” When she shook her head, Brandon grinned. “Oh, so now you’re using me as your taste tester?”
“Yup.” She laughed and fed him another meatball, then deliberately licked the fork as he watched her. Satisfied that she had his undivided attention, she leaned back against the sofa and crossed her legs, observing the way his dark gaze lowered to her thick thighs. When he unconsciously bit his bottom lip, it was all she could do not to hop onto his lap, yank down his pants, and impale herself on his rock-hard dick.
Ignoring the hungry throbbing of her pussy, she ate one of the meatballs and asked conversationally, “How’s your father’s election bid going?”
Slowly Brandon lifted his gaze from her thighs. “Hmm?”
Tamia hid a knowing smile. “I asked about your father’s campaign. How are things going?”
“So far so good,” Brandon answered, settling more comfortably on the sofa with one arm draped across the back. “Since the election’s a year away, he hasn’t gotten into the heavy campaign season yet.”
“Not that he’ll need to do much campaigning,” Tamia drawled, setting aside her plate. “Everyone knows he’s the front-runner.”
Brandon smiled, sipping his scotch.
His father was lieutenant governor Bernard Chambers, one of the most powerful men in Texas. Earlier that year, he’d formally announced his plans to run for governor. Many Houstonians expected him to win the election in a landslide.
“And how’s your mother doing?” Tamia asked politely.
“She’s doing well,” Brandon replied.
“That’s good.”
Tamia knew that Bernard and Gwen Chambers had adamantly opposed Brandon’s decision to represent Tamia during the murder trial. They’d already believed that she wasn’t good enough to date their son. Once Tamia was arrested and sent to prison, they’d fully expected Brandon to wash his hands of her. But he’d defied their wishes, proving that he was his own man.
Which was another reason Tamia would always love him.
Glancing across the lounge, she noticed a group of scantily clad females huddled near the bar. Every last one of them was shamelessly eyeballing Brandon.
Tamia frowned, hoping she wouldn’t be forced to act a damn fool at her own homecoming party.
As subtly as possible, she moved closer to Brandon on the sofa, letting the pack of vultures know that he wasn’t available. While a couple of them smirked at her, the rest had the sense to look away, no doubt realizing that if Tamia really had killed her lover’s wife, she was the last one they wanted to be fucking with.
Seemingly oblivious to what was going on, Brandon smiled softly at Tamia. “So what are your plans now?”
“You mean now that I’m a free woman?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, for starters, I’m moving out of my house.”
“Really?” Brandon looked surprised. “Why?”
She hesitated. “I need a change of scenery.” She couldn’t tell him the truth, that after what Fiona had done to her, there was no way they could continue living under the same roof. Tamia wanted absolutely nothing to do with her sister. The sooner she severed ties with Fiona’s treacherous ass, the better.
“Where are you moving to?” Brandon asked.
“Lou found an apartment for me. I haven’t seen it yet, and he won’t tell me where it is, but he assures me that it’s perfect for my needs.”
Lou knew she couldn’t afford much. Her legal fees had all but depleted her bank account. After her final payment went through, she’d have just enough money to cover her rent for two months. She needed to find a job ASAP, but she knew this wouldn’t be easy now that she had a criminal record. And she could pretty much forget about landing another advertising job. No reputable ad agency would hire someone who’d just been acquitted of murder.
Observing her downcast expression, Brandon reached over and cupped her chin in his hand. “Look at me.”
Tamia met his gaze.
“Five months ago, you didn’t think you’d be sitting here tonight—a free woman. But you are. So don’t worry about what may or may not happen tomorrow. Enjoy this moment, and believe me when I tell you that everything’s gonna be just fine. All right?”
Tamia nodded, fighting back tears. “Thank you, Brandon. I couldn’t have gotten through any of this without you.” She hesitated, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry for—”
Brandon pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her. “You don’t have to keep apologizing, Tamia. What happened between us is in the past. I’ve moved on, and so should you.”
Tamia stared at him, her mind flashing on an image of Cynthia bent over his desk as he fucked her from behind. The memory of what she’d seen that night still haunted Tamia, overtaking her thoughts when she least expected it. After the way she’d cheated on Brandon, she knew she had no right to feel betrayed because he’d slept with another woman. But that was exactly how she felt, and nothing would ever change that.
“Tamia.”
Jarred out of her painful musings, Tamia blinked at Brandon.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
She nodded quickly, then picked up her glass and drained the contents just as Keyshia Cole’s “Take Me Away” began playing.
“Oooh, that’s my song. Dance with me, Brandon.”
Before he could respond, she set down her empty glass, grabbed him by the hand, and led him over to the small dance floor, which was already packed with other couples. Tamia moved close to Brandon, sliding her arms around his neck as his big hands encircled her waist.
As they began swaying to the music, she looked into his eyes. “Do you know what this reminds me of?”
He smiled down at her. “Our first date.”
She nodded. “You took me to dinner at Da Marco, then we went dancing at your frat brother’s new club.” She smiled, reliving the memory of what had come afterward. They’d checked into a luxury hotel downtown, then spent the rest of the night fucking like the world was coming to an end.
Tamia sighed. “What a night.”
Brandon merely smiled again.
As they danced together, his hard, muscled chest rubbed against her breasts, making her nipples tighten. She cuddled closer to him and buried her face against his neck. The scent of his Clive Christian cologne teased her nostrils, smelling so damn good she wanted to drag her nose along his throat and inhale his skin off.
She sang along with Keyshia, bringing her lips close to Brandon’s ear as she crooned the lyrics that told him how much she loved him.
When the mellow jam melted into a faster number, Tamia and Brandon picked up the pace. He was a good dancer, confident and smooth. As they grooved together, effortlessly matching each other’s rhythm, Tamia twirled around and curved her arm around the back of his neck. His hands slid around her waist, holding her closer as his warm breath caressed her nape.
Tamia shivered with pleasure. She provocatively gyrated her hips, delighted and aroused by the feel of Brandon’s hard dick pressed against her ass. As they ground against each other, the sweaty bodies around them seemed to fade away until she and Brandon were alone on the dance floor, transported back to the night of their first date. A night filled with passion and excitement, when their future together had been filled with endless possibilities.
When Brandon turned Tamia in his arms, she looked into his dark eyes and realized that he wanted to make love to her as much as she wanted him to.
She opened her mouth. “Baby—”
“Listen up, party people!” Lou announced over a microphone, his voice cutting through the loud music. “It’s time for us to make a special champagne toast to our guest of honor. I’ve got servers handing out glasses of Cristal, so be sure to grab one so you can toast to Tamia. Mamacita, can you bring your sexy self over here for a minute? And bring the rainmaker with you.”
Tamia and Brandon looked at each other, then walked slowly off the dance floor.
As they made their way through the steamy crowd, Tamia found herself smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. Because for the second time that day, Brandon had given her reason to hope that they would be together again.
The past five months had been a living nightmare, but tonight no one could tell Tamia that she wasn’t the luckiest woman in the world.
Chapter 4
Brandon
It was after two a.m. by the time Brandon stepped through his front door.
After leaving the club, he’d driven around for a while trying to clear his head and get his raging erection under control. Dancing with Tamia had done a serious number on him. During the months leading up to her trial, he’d managed to stay focused on the case by constantly reminding himself that he and Tamia were over. She’d betrayed him in the worst possible way, so giving her a second chance was out of the question.
But the moment he arrived at the party tonight and saw her voluptuous body poured into that fuck-me dress, he’d nearly lost his damn mind. It didn’t matter that she’d broken his heart and destroyed their relationship. When he took her into his arms for that slow dance, she’d felt so right he’d almost forgotten that she didn’t belong there anymore.
Brandon leaned against the closed door and blew out a deep breath, disturbed by his conflicting emotions. He had no business indulging feelings for Tamia. He was with Cynthia now, a good woman who loved him and would never deceive him. No matter how sexy Tamia had looked tonight, and no matter how badly Brandon wanted to fuck her, he couldn’t betray Cynthia like that.
And just because he’d forgiven Tamia didn’t mean he’d ever forget the way she’d played him.
Grimacing, he pushed away from the door and moved silently through the darkened condo to his bedroom, where he found Cynthia waiting for him. Well, not exactly waiting. She’d fallen asleep amid a pile of legal tomes she’d been studying in preparation for an upcoming trial.
Pausing in the bedroom doorway, Brandon propped his shoulder against the doorjamb and watched her sleep. He remembered how stunned she’d been when he’d asked her to move in with him. Truth be told, he’d been pretty shocked himself. They’d been dating for only two months, and after everything he’d just gone through with Tamia, living with another woman should have been the last thing on his mind. But it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to shack up with Cynthia. They already spent long hours together at the office. At the end of an interminable, stressful day, it was nice to have someone to unwind with. Someone who could relate to the demands of his job. Someone who was fun enough to play video games with—and freaky enough to go down on him as they sat in the back of a half-empty movie theater.
At the memory of those steamy encounters, Brandon grinned at Cynthia. She lay curled on her side with her long, slender legs tucked toward her body. She wore one of his Longhorn T-shirts and a pair of red boy shorts that had ridden up her ass. As Brandon stared at her round butt cheeks, his dick hardened again.
He walked over to the enormous bed and leaned down to kiss Cynthia. Her lips were soft, plump, and warm, like the ones nestled between her legs.
As she slowly opened her eyes, Brandon pulled away and smiled down at her. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
“Hey,” she murmured. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached over, running his hand up her smooth thigh to cup her ass. She gave him a look but didn’t move away.
“How was the party?” she asked.
“Good.” He hesitated. “You should have come.”
She snorted. “I don’t think so. We both know Tamia didn’t want me there.”
Brandon didn’t deny it. He hadn’t missed the way Tamia’s face lit up when he’d arrived at the club alone. Although she’d told him to bring Cynthia, Brandon knew she would have resented Cynthia’s presence at her celebration. He’d done the right thing by leaving Cynthia at home, but that didn’t make him feel any less guilty about it.
Trying to change the subject, he nodded at the books scattered across the bed. “Get a lot of reading done?”
“Not really.” Cynthia sat up, pushing her disheveled hair off her face. A slight frown marred her brows. “I had a hard time concentrating.”
Uh-oh, Brandon thought. But he had to ask. “Why’s that?”
She hesitated, biting her lower lip the way she did whenever she was uneasy about something. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you ... and Tamia.”
He said nothing, waiting for her to elaborate.
Which she did. “She wants you back, Brandon.”
Of course he knew that. He’d known for months. But he couldn’t admit that to Cynthia, or she’d start questioning his motives for taking Tamia’s case. And he didn’t need—or want—that kind of scrutiny from her. Not when his own feelings for Tamia were still unresolved.
He rose from the bed and started across the room toward the walk-in closet. “Tamia and I aren’t getting back together.”
“Are you sure about that?” Cynthia challenged.
Brandon paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She frowned. “I was there today, Brandon. I saw the way Tamia was looking at you, like you were her whole world. And you went out of your way not to answer the reporter’s question about reconciling with her.”
“That’s because I didn’t want to embarrass Tamia,” Brandon said calmly. “She’s been through hell these past months. Today was her big day. Nothing else mattered.”
Cynthia regarded him for a long, tense moment. “I don’t think you understand how difficult these past five months have been on me, too.”
“Of course I do,” Brandon said quietly.
When everyone from his parents to his best friend had tried to talk him out of representing Tamia, Cynthia was the only one who’d supported his decision. He knew it hadn’t been easy for her. As Tamia’s attorney, he’d been required to spend a lot of time at the prison with her, preparing her for trial and trying to keep her morale up. They’d talked for hours on end, growing closer than they’d ever been before. She’d called him at all hours of the day, frequently interrupting his evenings with Cynthia.
One night, he and Cynthia had been making love when Tamia called. In hindsight, Brandon knew he should have ignored his ringing cell phone. He was in no condition to give any legal counsel or pep talks.
Resenting the interruption—and wanting to punish Brandon for taking Tamia’s call—Cynthia had rolled him onto his back and straddled him. After lowering herself onto his dick, she’d started riding him with long, sensual strokes. And then she’d done something new with her pussy, something that made him lose control. By the time he regained his composure and picked up the fallen cell phone, Tamia had already hung up. The next time he saw her, she’d been clearly upset. He’d felt guilty, but that was the last time she’d ever called him after eight p.m.
“Brandon?”
Pulled out of his reverie, he blinked at Cynthia. “I’m sorry, baby. What did you say?”
She frowned, shaking her head at him. “Just because my father’s a minister doesn’t mean I’m a saint. I get jealous and paranoid like any other woman. Having to share you with your ex-girlfriend was no damn picnic, but I dealt with it because I love you, Brandon, and I know your conscience would have ea
ten you alive if you hadn’t helped Tamia. But now that you’ve done your part and gotten her acquitted, I don’t want to share you anymore. And I shouldn’t have to.”
“You won’t,” Brandon assured her, retracing his steps to the bed. “Believe me, sweetheart, I know how trying this whole situation has been for you. I wouldn’t have blamed you for walking out on me months ago.”
“Don’t think I didn’t consider it,” Cynthia muttered, picking up one of her textbooks.
Brandon smiled. “But you didn’t leave,” he said, his hip touching hers as he perched on the edge of the bed. “You hung in there with me, and that means more to me than you can imagine. As for me and Tamia getting back together, have you ever heard that old song by Chicago, ‘If She Would Have Been Faithful’?”
Cynthia looked faintly amused. “Chicago?”
Brandon grinned. “Don’t laugh. You know how Kessler’s always playing eighties music on his computer?”
She nodded.
“Well, one night we were working late in his office when this Chicago song came on the radio. I’d never heard it before, but the words captured my feelings about the way things worked out between us. If Tamia hadn’t cheated on me, you and I wouldn’t have hooked up. If she would have been faithful, I would have missed out on being with you.”
Cynthia’s expression softened. “Do you really mean that?”
“Of course.” But even as the assurance left Brandon’s mouth, he wondered whether he really had meant what he’d just told her. Did he honestly believe that losing Tamia was for the best, or was that just wishful thinking on his part?
Frowning inwardly, he reached over and cupped Cynthia’s cheek, as though touching her would silence his doubts.
She smiled, tears misting her eyes as she rubbed her face against his palm. “You’re just trying to sweet-talk your way into my panties,” she teased.
Brandon grinned weakly. “Is it working?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” He leaned over and kissed her, feeling her nipple harden as he caressed one of her breasts. “What about now? Is this working?”
“Mmm ...” Suddenly she pulled away. “No.”