Bryce: Ex-Business: An Ex-Club Romance

by Camilla Stevens

  He probably knows I’m debating how to greet him. My mouth tightens with displeasure and I narrow my eyes as I set the ice cream down and pad over to answer the door as nonchalantly as possible.

  Bryce is standing there, once again in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms with the bottle of Hennessy in his hand.

  “I thought I’d wait for you to slip into something a bit more comfortable before I knocked on your door,” Bryce says, his eyes scanning me up and down. If he’s disappointed, the amused look on his face, especially as his eyes linger over my shorts, certainly doesn’t show it.

  “And how do you know I don’t have company?” I scoff.

  “I’m willing to fight for the honor of your affection. Let me at him,” he says in a challenging tone.

  I refuse to give him the satisfaction of cracking a smile.

  “Maybe I’m not in the mood for company,” I try, just so I don’t come off too easy. All the same, Mom’s warning about my advanced age and continual loss in market value is swimming around in my head like a shark threatening my high and mighty opinion of myself.

  “Then how about just a quickie?” he offers, as though suggesting we share a cab.

  “Bryce,” I retort, but I can’t help ending it in a laugh.

  “I knew that would be the thing to get my foot in the door,” he says, pressing forward.

  I stop him with one hand on his chest, forcing myself to ignore how wonderfully firm the flesh underneath feels against my fingertips.

  “Come on, Edie, don’t you want to trade war stories from today’s battles?”

  “Fine,” I concede, removing myself from his path. “But we’re just talking tonight, so don’t go getting your hopes up!”

  “Absolutely,” he says with an expression too earnest not to be a joke.

  He walks in and takes a look around, inspecting the place like I did his last night, being that he’s also never seen the inside of my apartment.

  “I see we both have good taste.”

  “Except mine didn’t come from a one-night stand,” I point out.

  “So this is all you?” He says turning to me with a grin. “Note to self: get Edie into bed the next time I think about redecorating.”

  I roll my eyes before heading to the kitchen to get two glasses.

  “And she already has Netflix up and running. All that’s missing is the chill,” I hear him say.

  “That was intended for me, myself, and I,” I retort as I come back to join him on the couch at a safe enough distance.

  “All the better,” he says, settling back. “I’m more than happy to play the voyeur.”

  “Do these innuendos just run through your head like a ticker tape?” I ask as I set the glasses down on the coffee table. I tuck my feet up underneath me as I face him, leaning sideways on the couch.

  “Only when I’m sufficiently inspired,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

  “If you’re going to continue on like that, you’d better get pouring. I already had one overtly sexualized interaction tonight.”

  “Now that sounds like a story deserving of some quality cognac.” He leans over to pour us both a glass.

  “I thought your drink was bourbon.”

  “For the sake of camaraderie, I’m willing to make an exception. And what’s this?” He says, eyeing the ice cream. “Even better.”

  “That’s mine.”

  “And here I am being so generous, like a good neighbor.”

  I laugh. “Okay, you can have some.”

  “Actually,” he says, before upending one of the freshly poured glasses into what’s left of the pint of ice cream.

  “Bryce! That was perfectly good ice cream.”

  “And now it’s even better,” he says lifting it up. He digs the spoon around and grabs a bit. I watch him bring it to his mouth, then hum with pleasure. “Now that’s good.”

  “Glad I could share,” I sass.

  “Try it,” he says, digging the spoon back in and bringing a cognac coated spoonful to my mouth.

  I hesitantly open my mouth and devour it. A delicious mix of sweet and potent hits my tastebuds, making them dance with pleasure.

  “That’s what I thought,” he says with a grin, grabbing another spoonful to serve to me.

  “Do I get to feed myself?” I ask with a smile.

  “Why, when you have a perfectly good errand boy to satisfy your every need?” he scoffs, ending it with a seductive grin. “Now then, tell Doctor Bryce all about your day.”

  I finish the spoonful, rolling it around in my mouth until it melts. The cognac starts to impose upon the vodka and gin already in my system from the martinis, making me much more open-minded to discussion.

  “Dinner with Mom, creator and original owner of Contempo Woman,” I say with a wave of the hand. “I don’t know how much you know about my mother.”

  “I think everyone in New York knows about your mother,” he says with a sympathetic smile.

  I tilt my head to the side to cede the point. “Well then, you can imagine how it went.”

  “Actually, I doubt even I could imagine that,” he says, his brow creasing in bewilderment.

  I cough out a laugh. “She basically suggested I pimp myself out to acquire funding.”

  “Ahh,” he says, as he digs into the ice cream to take a bite for himself. “Well, I’d be happy to be first on your dance card, but I’m in the temporarily embarrassed millionaire camp myself.”

  “No tapping into the Wilmington family fortune?” I ask, trying to sound less curious than I am.

  “Not until I pay the appropriate cover charge, i.e. sell my soul to the devil, at least for a few years,” he says with a bitter sigh.

  “I doubt you’d have a problem finding a sugar mama to pimp yourself out to,” I say, then instantly bring my hand up to my mouth with regret.

  Bryce barks out a laugh. “Oh, Lola, I knew there was a vixen hidden somewhere deep inside of you.”

  I punch him lightly in the arm. “More ice cream, less teasing.”

  “My wish is your command,” he says, digging out another scoop for me. “I agree, no more commiserating. My family interaction was as enjoyable as yours was, it seems. My brother was kind enough to remind me that flying pigs will be ice-skating in a frozen-over hell before Dad even entertains the idea of giving me a loan.”

  I exhale with sympathy before accepting the bite of ice cream. Right now, I doubt I could even talk business with Bryce. I’m not sure if it’s the sugar high, the booze, or the way he looks in that t-shirt that has me thinking of one thing only.

  He tilts his head to consider me. “Do I get another question tonight?”

  I give him a suspicious look. “That depends. What is it?”

  Bryce gives me a hard stare. “Why Reggie? I mean, of all, the guys in our class, you picked him? He was just so damn smarmy and pretentious, with zero sense of humor. And the constant name-dropping?” He groans and throws his head back. “He even tried to schmooze me, at least until he found out I’m not my dad’s favorite.”

  Well, that certainly puts a downer on things.

  My mind races back to yesterday morning. The Punishing. All hints of losing myself to lust evaporate like water in a desert.

  “Hey,” Bryce says popping his head back up and leaning in to catch my eye. “I didn’t mean to drudge up old news. I just—”

  “He was serious.” I blurt out. I look away, then reach out for the other glass of cognac to take a long swig, “at least I thought so.”

  I turn back to see Bryce studying me with an intensity that I find unsettling. I don’t want him sympathizing with me, or worse, feeling sorry for me.

  But he’s here.

  And he looks so sincere in his concern.

  “We were serious, all through business school,” I say, my mouth unleashing old, bad business, hopefully letting it escape from this hold it’s always had on me. “And then I got pregnant.”

  I risk a glance at Bryce only to find his eyes fille
d with a quick flame of jealous anger.

  It’s…slightly exhilarating. Overwhelming.

  I shift my gaze to the safety of the window behind him.

  “He was less than thrilled,” I say bitterly. I don’t need to see Bryce to sense the intensity of that anger growing. I work my jaw to the side, feeling my own anger set in. “Then…I miscarried.”

  I shrug as though the rest doesn’t really matter, even though it was the most devastating part. “And he couldn’t deal with it, so he left.”

  I can’t believe I’m telling him all of this. No one knows it. No one.

  “It was probably for the best. At least it made us realize we weren’t right for one another in the first place.” I suck my lips between my teeth as my tongue glides over them, trying to keep the avalanche of emotions built up inside of me from rushing out in a long, frustrated cry of pain and hurt and anger.

  Instead, I suck it up with a good sniff and take a nice long swig of cognac. “But that’s in the past,” I say, waving my glass in the air. “He’s moved on and so have I.”

  I flinch when I feel Bryce’s hand come out to cup my face. His thumb caresses my cheek so tenderly that I momentarily spin with dizziness.

  “He didn’t fucking deserve you. Not then and certainly not now.”

  That’s when the obvious hits me like a ton of bricks.

  I chose the wrong man.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bryce

  I remember wanting to punch Reggie in the face when Edie first started dating him after that night with me. Now, I’d happily kill the son of a bitch.

  “It was nothing,” Edie says, averting her gaze and trying to move her face away from my palm. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “No,” I say harshly, holding on firmly and catching her attention. “It wasn’t nothing, and it does matter. It matters to me.”

  “It seems so pointless now,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” I say with a crooked grin. Edie breathes out a small laugh. “But that’s old business. All that matters is, I’m here now, and I’d never leave you, not after something like that, not after anything.”

  A small, sad smile comes to her lips. “Who knew the class clown would end up being the Prince Charming?”

  “I prefer the title, King,” I say with a grin, giving her cheek a good squeeze.

  Edie laughs. “Okay, your Royal Majesty.”

  “That’s better,” I say in an authoritative voice, then lean in. “And as king, I command that we get to the chill portion of this Netflix night.”

  “As you wish, my king,” she responds with a soft laugh that eases away some of the pain from her face.

  “There’s a version of Edie I like to see,” I say, leaning in to kiss her. If last night’s kiss was delicious, tonight’s is worth five Michelin stars. I set the ice cream down, now that it’s nothing more than a syrupy mess, then use my free hand to pull her in closer.

  I feel the urgency hit her as her hand comes up to grab my shirt. I slow it down, wanting to savor tonight instead of going hot and heavy like we did last night. My hand comes to her thigh beneath those ridiculous dog-themed pajama shorts and I slowly caress the smooth skin.

  Edie follows my lead, letting go of the shirt to slip her hand underneath instead, running her palm across my abs. I smile against her lips, enjoying the way her hand eagerly traverses each hardened ripple. Those evenings in the Ideal Gentlemen gym certainly pay off in their own way.

  But there’s something to be said for soft and pliable, like the feel of her thigh underneath my hand. I creep it up past the hem of her shorts, high enough to realize there’s nothing on underneath.

  Edie shifts, coming in closer. I twist to accommodate until she’s straddling me once again. Now, both my hands are underneath those shorts, rising up to cup her bare ass.

  “You know…you’re going to have to…remove them at some… point if you…want to go further,” she says in between kisses.

  “I’m just taking a moment to appreciate how symbolic they are,” I say against her lips.

  She pulls away to stare down at me with a frown. “How so?”

  I laugh, realizing how my take might sounds. “Brings out the dog in me.”

  She groans and then laughs as I start singing the lyrics to “Atomic Dog” by George Clinton. Then, she yelps in surprise as I pick her up to carry her to the bedroom. Her apartment is a similar layout to mine so I have no trouble finding it.

  “I assume you have protection?” I offer.

  “Why would you assume that?” she sasses.

  “I mean, I’m more than happy to bare-back it but—”

  “Yeah, I have protection,” she says with a smile.

  I’m almost disappointed, though I doubt Edie would be the type to give in to being that reckless, especially considering what she just revealed.

  Part of me almost wants to give her a baby, just to prove how different I am from Reggie, the bastard. Also, because the idea has crossed my mind more times than I’d care to admit.

  There will be plenty of time for that.

  I toss her on the bed, making her laugh again. As she twists to reach for the drawer to her nightstand, I pull off my shirt and toss it aside.

  Edie stretches the condom out toward me and I take it, bringing it up to trap the edge between my teeth. Instead of putting it on, I reach down and grab her ankle, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed.

  “Bryce!” she laughs.

  I slide my hands up her legs, enjoying the rise and fall of each curve until I’ve reached her shorts again. I tug them past her hips, forcing her to instinctively buck them up to accommodate me as I drag them the rest of the way off.

  “That’s better,” I mutter around the condom. I smile at the way she presses her thighs together, trying to maintain her modesty, even though it does nothing but make me salivate at the idea of prying them apart once again.

  I pull the condom from my mouth and give her a hard, demanding look. “Take off your shirt or I’ll take it off for you. I can’t be responsible for the damage that results. Considering the state of it, I’m guessing it’s your favorite.”

  She looks as though she might just let me before she finally smiles and pulls it up over her head.

  “That’s better,” I say in a slow drawl.

  When she realizes that I’m just standing there, savoring her in all her naked glory, she gets self-conscious, pressing one arm over her breasts, and squeezing her thighs together even more.

  “Don’t you dare,” I say in a low voice, leaning down on the bed so I’m hovering over her. I place the condom aside and grab both her arms so that they are resting slightly above her head on either side. “You have no idea what a fucking turn on your body is, Edie. When you’re with me, I want every bit of you…completely. Got it?”

  I can see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her pupils dilate, her mouth parted in awe as she nods. I love seeing her this vulnerable, so easily giving in to my demands. I also love how much it seems to turn her on, if those hardened nipples are any indication. “Yes, Bryce.”

  “Good,” I say with a half-smile. “Now, I’m going to allow you to do the honors,” I add, nodding toward the condom.

  I release her wrists freeing her hands so I can reach up and tug my pants down my hips as I continue to hover above her. When they are down far enough, I work them all the way off.

  Before she can reach for the condom, I force one knee between her legs, still clamped together. I pry them apart and use both of mine to spread them even further.

  Edie gasps as the feel of the cool air licks at what I already know must be soaking wet, if the desire in her eyes is any indication.

  “Proceed,” I say with a wicked grin.

  She bites her bottom lip and blindly reaches out for the packet, her eyes trapped by mine. When she finds it, she rips it open, then pulls out the condom and lowers it to the head of my dick.
<
br />   Just the feel of her fingers working it down my throbbing shaft has me hissing in a mixture of pain and pleasure. I’m nearly on the edge already, so when she finishes the job, I quickly lower myself, reaching one hand around to grab her ass and pull her up to meet me.

  Then, I sink into her.

  The warm wetness that greets me is a blessed welcome, encouraging me to instantly go to work, pumping my hips to satisfy the urgent need in me.

  Edie, just as hungry for satisfaction, works her body just as hard, her legs coming up around my waist.

  If I never fuck another woman, I could die happy just having this.

  That has me thinking about Reggie. I instinctively shift my body, reaching just the right spot to stroke.

  “Bryce,” she moans, closing her eyes with pleasure.

  “Open your eyes,” I growl. “I want them on me when you come.”

  They flash open, staring at me with something approaching panic as the first orgasm begins to swell inside of her. I watch it unfold, devouring every moment of it as it spurs my own body on.

  “Do it,” I breathe out. As though waiting for my permission, she comes right on the heels of that utterance.

  It’s fucking glorious. Watching her body arch up towards mine, then release into a shuddering mess feeds something deep inside of me.

  I keep working, forcing another out of her and this time I can’t hold back. Everything that’s been building since I entered this apartment is unleashed at the same time.

  I see stars but manage to keep Edie in my sights as I explode into her.

  It takes a moment for us to recover. I can barely hold myself up and instead fall to her side, making sure one arm comes out to pull her in next to me.

  “I’m spending the night,” I say, leaving no room for argument. “And when I wake up, I want you by my side.”

  Edie curls into me with feline sensuousness. My eyes are focused on the ceiling, but I can still sense the satisfied smile on her face as she answers. “Yes, Bryce.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Edie

  When I wake up the next morning, my body is still curled into Bryce’s, though we’re now under the covers.