by HELEN HARDT
A few followers complained that the color was different from Addie’s “selfie.” I privately messaged them to remind them about Susanne’s money-back guarantee, and then I deleted the comments.
Easy enough week.
Except that four days ago, that fateful Tuesday evening, I drank Wild Turkey with Braden Black and ended up in his bed.
I shake my head to clear it. Best not to dwell on something I have no power over. But damn, I hate not having control.
I definitely have no control over Braden Black.
Addie exits her office. “I’m out of here, Skye. Have a great weekend.”
“You too,” I say. “I’ll be in touch if anything comes up with the posts.”
“Great,” she says and swiftly leaves. The door swings shut behind her.
I power everything down for the weekend, reveling in my freedom. I still need to watch the current posts, but Addie doesn’t have any shoots this weekend.
“I’m free as a bird,” I say out loud, smiling.
“Good to know,” a low voice says.
I jerk my gaze upward.
Braden is standing in the doorway.
My whole body tightens, as if someone wrapped me in clear cellophane. “How did you get in here?”
“Same way I get anywhere. I walked through the door.”
“Sorry. Addie’s already gone for the day.”
“Why would you think I came to see Addie? You witnessed our last encounter.”
I open my mouth, but nothing emerges. I shut it quickly. What am I supposed to say?
“I came to see you, Skye.”
I cross my arms. “You could have called.”
“Why? And miss that look of adorable perplexity on your pretty face? Besides, you never gave me your cell phone number.”
“You know where I work.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to put you in the awkward position of taking a phone call at work.”
“So you showed up at my work instead?”
“I figured it’s nearly quitting time.”
“What if Addie had been here?”
“Then Addie would have been here.”
“But you… She…”
He takes a step toward me. “Do you really think I give a damn if Addison Ames crosses my path? She doesn’t scare me, Skye. In fact, she’s probably first on the list of everything that doesn’t scare me.”
“Oh?” I say. “What does scare you, Braden?”
He regards me, his eyes dark and dangerous. “Nothing.”
Chapter Fourteen
I inhale, trying to ease my jittering nerves. Already my body reacts to his presence. I want to walk toward him, grab his strong hand, cup his stubbly cheek with the other.
Just touch him.
All I need is to touch him.
That small thing would satisfy me in this moment.
And that’s first on the list of things that scares the hell out of me.
“Why are you here to see me, then? Can I help you with something?” My voice is so soft it’s almost a whisper.
He closes the distance between us. “You can come back to my bed.”
I move backward, stumbling slightly. Braden steadies me with his hand, and his touch burns through me like his hands are hot coals.
God, yes. Just a touch.
I knew it would be like this.
I ease away from him until the backs of my thighs hit my desk.
“You going to answer me?”
“With all due respect, you didn’t exactly ask a question,” I say, forcing myself not to stammer.
“True. You did. You asked if you could help me with anything, and I answered. Still, I think my response is worthy of a reply.”
I inhale deeply, willing my pulse to chill. I’m not successful, but I can act as though I am. “You’re not even offering me dinner this time?”
“We didn’t exactly get to dinner the last time.”
My cheeks are so warm, they must be crimson. I clear my throat. “A girl still has to eat.”
“Then dinner it is. What’s your pleasure?”
I stare at him. Really? He’s going to buy me dinner so I’ll sleep with him? Exactly what does that make me? I know the answer, and I don’t like it.
“You told me I was something your money couldn’t buy, but now you think dinner will buy me?”
He grabs both my shoulders. He gazes into my eyes, his own burning hot. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Skye. I want you in my bed. What’s it going to take?”
“I—I can’t be bought.” Though I’m thinking, at this moment, maybe I can be. And that scares the hell out of me.
“I’m not trying to buy you. I am trying to bed you.”
I resist the urge to bite my lower lip. “You just want sex, then? Not a date?”
He gives a half-hearted shrug. “We can go out on dates if you want. If that’s what it takes for you to feel comfortable coming back to my bed. But it will be simply dating. I can’t give you any more than that.”
“Why not?” I ask boldly, not at all sure that I’m ready for an answer.
“Because I can’t.”
I narrow my eyes. “Nice try. But I’m looking for a reason, Braden. I’m twenty-four years old. I’m young, and maybe a purely sexual relationship would be fun. A day will come, though, when it won’t be enough for me.”
“If that day isn’t here yet, why not come back to my bed?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
Because you fucked me and then kicked me out of your bed like the douchebag you are. The words catch in my throat. Why should it matter that he kicked me out? Maybe I’d do the same if we were at my place.
Except I wouldn’t. That’s not me. I’m not cruel.
I wet my lips. “I’m not interested in being your fuck buddy.”
Not the real reason, and part of me—that aching part between my legs—is very interested in being his fuck buddy. Another part of me—that intelligent part between my ears—is decidedly not interested.
“What will it take to get you back into my bed, then? I told you we could date.”
“Tell me why it can’t lead anywhere.”
He shrugs once more. “I can’t give you a reason.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“Stickler for semantics, are you?”
I nod.
“Then you’re correct. I won’t.”
I’ve trapped myself now. I’m curious, but if he continues to refuse to give me his reason, I have to tell him no.
Huge problem with that: I don’t want to tell him no. Or at least I don’t want to tell his dick no. Not until he apologizes for being such a douche that first night.
My body is already throbbing in anticipation of being in Braden’s bed again, under him, his beautiful body tantalizing mine and bringing me to the ultimate finish.
I can’t say yes, though. I just can’t. It’s…wrong.
Even though it feels so right.
What to say, then?
“I… I’ll…think about it.”
He crushes me to his body, his erection apparent. He presses it into my belly. “This isn’t a game, Skye.”
“I never said it was.”
“There’s nothing to think about.”
“There’s a lot to think about. I’m not someone’s toy, Braden. I have some self-respect, you know.”
“Of course you do. Do you honestly think I’d want to bed a woman who has no self-respect?”
Okay. Didn’t see that one coming. Certainly not after the way he invited me to leave his bed. I actually steady myself, as if he were trying to knock me over.
“Honestly,” I say, “I don’t know what to think.”<
br />
“Think about this.” He cups both my cheeks and smashes his lips to mine.
I open without thinking, letting my tongue wander out to meet his. The kiss drugs me. Every part of my body responds, and the blood in my veins turns to boiling lava.
I care about nothing but this kiss—this kiss and how it makes me feel.
Already I’m feeling more than I did in bed with toys and porn. All I need is Braden’s touch, and I’m halfway to climax.
Am I willing to give this up when he so obviously wants me?
I can have him in bed. I can have orgasms galore.
The only price is…no future. No relationship.
I’m young. I have time. Kids? Yeah, I want kids, but I don’t need them yet. Can’t afford them yet anyway.
Self-respect?
Does going back to him after the way he unceremoniously kicked me out of bed last time negate my self-respect?
No. Not if it’s my choice. At the moment, my mind is muddled. I can’t think straight. All I want is Braden’s hands on my body, his lips exploring mine, his cock inside me again, bringing me to the precipice…
I deepen the kiss, groaning into his mouth, pushing my breasts into his chest. My nipples are so hard I almost think he can feel them poking him. I rise on my toes and rub my clit against his bulge. I surrender to his kiss, to everything about him—
He pulls away, breaking the kiss with a loud smack.
I fall back against the desk, gripping the edge to keep from stumbling.
“I want you. You do something to me, something I don’t quite understand but want to.” His blue gaze sears into mine. “Don’t think too long.”
Then he walks out the door.
Chapter Fifteen
“A no-brainer,” Tessa says on the phone as I’m waiting for my meal at the Wendy’s drive-through.
Yeah, I’m having a single with cheese and fries, when I could be eating with Braden tonight and then fucking him again.
Only to be unceremoniously kicked out when we were done, no doubt.
“Not a no-brainer.” I grab my credit card from the cashier, take the food, and set it carefully on the floor of my car. “He freaking kicked me out of his place last time.”
“You’re more upset because you weren’t the one to make the decision.”
“That’s not true.”
“That’s totally true, Skye. With Braden Black, you’re not in charge, and that irritates you.”
Except that it doesn’t.
It should irritate me. I can’t help it that I like to be in command of every situation. Almost every situation, apparently. Braden Black’s behavior doesn’t irritate me. It drives me absolutely wild.
He hasn’t left my thoughts since Tuesday night. Even though he was a douche for kicking me out of his place, he’s been on my mind twenty-four-seven. I wake up at night sweating, knowing I was dreaming about him.
“Just go for it,” Tessa continues. “Who cares how long it lasts or that it won’t lead to anything? You’ll get a couple months of hot sex.”
And more orgasms.
“It might be too late,” I say.
“He’s letting you think about it.”
“Yeah, but he could still change his mind.”
“Then you blew it.” Tess is nothing if not blunt.
“I might have.” I sigh. “I’m home. I’m going to pour myself a glass of water, eat this gourmet burger and fries, and try not to think about the evening I could be having.”
“He’ll be back,” she says. “See you tomorrow at yoga.”
Tessa and I practice yoga together Saturday mornings at the gym. She’s working toward her instructor’s certificate, and I just try not to look too clumsy. My downward dog still sucks.
“Yeah, see you.” I end the call, park my car, and head up to my tiny apartment, where I spend the evening alone.
…
Yoga class is especially difficult the next morning. Tessa, of course, breezes through, but I know I’ll feel this workout tomorrow in my thighs and ass, which only reminds me of my last intense workout. With Braden.
“Coffee?” Tess says after we change back into our street clothes.
“Always.”
We head to the Bean There Done That where I photographed Addison on Monday.
“Is the cinnamon mocha latte any good?” Tessa asks as we get in line.
“I have no idea. I haven’t tried it.”
“You didn’t taste Addison’s when you shot the photo?”
“She didn’t offer me any.”
“Why not? You told me she hates coffee.”
I let out a soft huff. “That doesn’t mean she offered it to me.”
“Really? Self-centered diva.” Tessa scoffs.
“Pretty much,” I say. “She can be nice sometimes. I think she’s been so privileged all her life that she doesn’t think about others.”
“Yeah. Like I said, self-centered diva.”
I laugh. “Semantics. You’re right.”
“May I help you?” the barista asks once we get to the head of the line.
We order black coffee, though Tessa will add a little cream to hers. A rich coffee drink doesn’t seem right after a workout.
“Hey,” the barista says, “Skye, isn’t it? You were in here with Addison Ames?”
“Yeah, nice to see you”—I eye her name tag—“Trish.”
“I love Addison’s posts. I went out and got that new lip plumper yesterday.”
“Do you like the color?” I ask.
“I love anything Addison recommends!” Trish gushes and shoves our coffees across the counter. “On the house today. I’m so glad you came back in. Why isn’t Addison with you?”
Because she hates coffee.
And it’s the weekend.
And we’re not besties.
“She’s busy,” I say cheerfully. “This is my friend Tessa.”
“So nice to meet you,” Trish gushes again. “Please tell Addison I bought the lip plumper.”
“Absolutely,” I say.
Tessa and I take our coffees to a vacant table in the corner.
“What are you up to tonight?” she asks.
“I have great plans,” I say sarcastically.
“Yeah? Did he call you?”
I take a sip of coffee, nearly burning my tongue. “Braden? Are you kidding? My great plans are to curl up in bed with a good book. I got a new romance novel.”
“Why read about sex when you could be doing it? Call him, Skye.”
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask.
“Nice pivot. If you’re not going to call Braden and have more mind-numbing sex, you and I are going out.”
“Tess, you know I hate clubbing. It’s loud and obnoxious. Everyone’s drunk, and all the men are looking for sex.”
She takes a sip of her coffee, swallows, and then smiles. “Exactly.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tessa and I make plans to meet for an early dinner and then go to Icon in the theatre district. While I’m getting dressed, my phone buzzes. Addison. Always great with the timing. What does she need from me on a Saturday night?
“Hey, Addie,” I say into the phone, sounding a lot nicer than I feel at the moment.
“Skye, I need a huge favor.”
Of course she does. “What do you need?”
“I’m supposed to go to this charity event tonight for Mothers Driving Drunk or something.”
“You mean Mothers Against Drunk Driving?”
“Yeah, that’s it. It’s at the hotel, but I can’t make it, so I need you to go, take a photo, and post it.”
I consider asking why she can’t make it but change my mind. She probably got a zit or something and can’t be seen in public. “Tessa and I have pla
ns.”
“Don’t worry. Take her with. I have two tickets. I’ll email them to you now.”
“Wait, wait, wait. How am I supposed to take a selfie of you if you’re not there?”
“Use your imagination. You weren’t going to be there anyway, so I wouldn’t be doing a selfie. Take a photo of the silent auction items or something and say how much I adore this charity. Whatever. This is what I pay you for, Skye. Besides, it’s black-tie, a gourmet dinner, and open bar. You’ll have a great time.”
Except I have nothing to wear. “Addie, I—”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
All right, then. I quickly call Tessa, who’s thrilled, of course. She has clothes for every occasion.
“I’ll bring you a hot little black number that will look great on you,” she says. “Do you have some black strappy sandals?”
“I have silver strappy sandals.”
“Perfect. You’ll need a silver or white-gold necklace and earrings, then.”
“Okay. I’ve got that covered.”
“Awesome. See you soon.”
…
Tessa wasn’t kidding. The dress is a hot little black number, emphasis on the little. It hugs me tight, showing curves I never knew I had. Admittedly, though, it looks great paired with the silver shoes and accessories. She even brought me a silver evening bag to borrow.
I allow myself one Wild Turkey before dinner and drink it while I scout the silent auction items and photograph several. I post the Paris trip to Addie’s account, gushing about how much she loves French food and culture and really wants to win this awesome package. I tag her family’s hotel and throw in #helpingothers #paris #MADD #silentauction. Done.
She texts me a thumbs-up soon after, so my work here is done. Time to go.
“Are you kidding?” Tessa says. “We can’t leave now.”
“I thought you wanted to go clubbing.” Not that clubbing is my scene, either, but I feel like a fish out of water here.
“It’s free dinner, first of all,” she says. “And free drinks. Plus, the dance floor is already set up. We can do our clubbing right here tonight. I already see several young men I’d like to get to know better.”
None of the young men are Braden, so I don’t share her enthusiasm. But I relent. She’s right. Why not take advantage of our bounty? We find Addison’s table and take our seats, politely exchanging hellos with our tablemates, who are all much older than we are. Since we have nothing in common with them, we talk mostly to each other during our dinner of roast duck breast with cherry and walnut sauce, potato puree, and green beans with fines herbes. I forego wine with dinner. Tessa wants to stay for dancing. I’m saving my Wild Turkeys to get me through that fiasco.