The Wrong/Right Man

by Aurora Rose Reynolds

  “Can I ask what it is you’re looking for?” Braxton asks casually, and I turn, finding him leaning against the counter in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee.

  “I need my bag and my phone,” I tell him, going back to search under the couch, since I didn’t look there.

  “Why do you need your purse?”

  I rest my hands on my hips, breathing heavy. “I need to go home.”

  “You’re not going home,” he states, taking a sip of his coffee.

  I stomp my foot. “Braxton, right now is not the time for you to tell me what I can or can’t do. I need to go home. I haven’t used conditioner in two days and I’m not meeting your parents for the first time while wearing your underwear.”

  “Conditioner?”

  “Girls use it after they wash their hair. If they don’t, their hair looks like mine did yesterday when it dried.”

  “What was wrong with your hair yesterday?” He frowns.

  “Oh my God.” I toss my hand into the air. “That is not the point! The point is I need to find my bag so I can go home, so where is it?”

  “I don’t know where your bag is.” I narrow my eyes on his, trying to figure out if he’s lying. “Did you leave it at the cabin or in my car last night?”

  Did I? Shit. I don’t know if I did or not. “Where are your car keys? I’ll go down and check your car.” When he doesn’t make a move to help me, I start to search for his keys, swearing I’m never, not ever, going to take off my watch ever again.

  “If you were wearing your watch, you wouldn’t need your phone or your purse,” he informs me smugly, like he just read my mind, and I turn just enough to glare at him. He holds up his cup of coffee. “I’m just saying, baby. I came up with the applications in that watch to prevent situations just like this.”

  “I hate you,” I mutter, ignoring his laughter as I go to the bedroom to search there.

  After going through his drawers, dirty laundry, and checking under every surface in the bedroom, I stomp into the kitchen and plant my hands on my hips. “I’m going to ask you nicely to give me your keys, and if you don’t, I swear I’m going to kill you and deal with the consequences later.”

  “Baby, I’d like you to meet my parents.” He smiles, and I swear I feel the blood drain from my face and my stomach plummet. I close my eyes, hoping he’s joking, but when I hear a woman laugh and a man chuckle, I know he’s not. I slowly open my eyes back up and then pivot on my toes to face the island that surrounds the kitchen. Standing behind the bar is a man and woman, both attractive, both with features they have passed down to their son. “Mom, Dad—” Braxton comes to me, taking my hand. “I’d like you to finally meet Dakota. Dakota, my parents, Bret and Alisha Adams.”

  “I promise I didn’t mean I would really kill your son,” I blurt, feeling their eyes bore into me. “I just… I just....”

  “Do you know how many times I threatened Braxton with death or some form of torture growing up?” his mom asks me with a smile and then answers her own question. “Every day. Every day of his life, he was always doing something to drive me to the brink of a meltdown.”

  “It’s true,” his dad agrees, coming over in jeans and a hoodie with a football team logo on the front, giving me a quick hug before taking a seat on one of the stools.

  I look at Braxton and see the look on his face and can’t help but laugh. “Thanks, guys,” he mutters, and I laugh harder.

  His mom comes around to me, looking stylish in a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt. She grabs my upper arms, holding my gaze. “The point is we know how frustrating our son can be. So there is nothing you don’t feel right now that we haven’t felt before.”

  “Again, thanks.” Braxton sighs.

  “What? We all need to stick together.” His mom smiles.

  “You mean you guys all want her to join in on ganging up on me.”

  “The more, the merrier,” his dad says, lifting a cup of coffee my way and making me smile.

  “Well, I’m glad to know I’m not alone, and I’m really sorry about my appearance.” I glare at Braxton quickly. “I was trying to go to my place to find something to wear, so I could avoid meeting you looking like this.”

  His mom squeezes my arms. “Braxton was just explaining to us that your apartment was broken into and that most of your things were destroyed. I’m sorry, and if it helps, I think you look adorable.”

  “Thanks.” I shift on my feet, no longer worried about meeting his parents but wondering if it’s too soon to say I might just love them.

  “I can go out and pick you something up,” she offers, letting my hand go. “At least something for you to wear, so you don’t feel uncomfortable, and then we can go sort out your place, make a list of what else you need, and go pick it up.”

  “You just want a reason to go shop,” Bret chimes in. “Not that you ever need a reason to shop.” Alisha smiles at her husband then walks over to where he’s sitting and kisses his cheek.

  “Do you mind if my mom goes to pick you some stuff up?” Braxton asks me softly, and I notice then he’s holding a cup of tea out to me.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?” I ask Alisha.

  “I’m afraid my husband is right. I don’t need much of a reason to go shopping,” she says, taking her phone out of her bag and bringing it to me. “Just write out what you need and your sizes, and I’ll have Bret drive me down the road to Target.”

  I take her phone and quickly text out the basics. When I’m done, I start to hand her the phone back then shake my head. “I’m so sorry. I don’t have any money on me, and I don’t know where my purse is.” I start to delete the text, but Braxton takes the phone from me before I can then starts to type.

  “Here, Mom.” He hands the phone to her then takes a plain black card out of his wallet, handing it to her. “Get what’s on the list and anything else you think she might need.”

  “You got it.” She seems all too happy about spending his money, but I don’t like the feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Please don’t,” I say softly, and she looks at me. “I just need a couple things to hold me over. I’ll get the rest this afternoon after I track down my purse.”

  She looks between me and Braxton, and I don’t know her well enough to know what she’s thinking, but after a moment, she locks eyes with me and nods before turning on her heel and grabbing her bag. “Let’s go, old man.”

  “We’ll be back.” Bret stands, grabbing his keys off the counter, not looking as happy as his wife is about a trip to the store.

  Once they’re gone, I take a seat at the island with my tea, and Braxton goes to the door, locking it. When he comes back to me, he wraps his arms around me and nuzzles the side of my neck, and then he whispers in my ear, making me shiver. “Just a guess, but I don’t think my parents hate you.”

  “Don’t be smug.” I tip my head to the side as he kisses down my throat then whimper as he cups one of my breasts and slides his hand down my stomach to cup me between my legs. “Braxton.”

  “Open your legs for me, Dakota.”

  Panting, I do as he asked, and he moves his hand under the waistband of his boxers and his fingers slip between my folds. The second he circles my clit, my head drops back and I moan.

  “Do you know how soft you are here?” He thrusts two fingers inside me. “How tight and wet you are? How much I love the little sounds you make and the way your pussy flutters when you’re about to come?” His breath brushes my ear as my core starts to tighten around his fingers. “Let go.”

  “Oh, God.” My legs start to shake, and stars start to dot my vision as my fingers clench the edge of the chair, but as the orgasm starts to build, he removes his hand. “Don’t stop.”

  I hear him chuckle as he spins the stool around, and then the next thing I know, his boxers I’m wearing are gone, he’s on his knees, and his face is between my legs. I rest one foot on his shoulder and the other to the edge of the counter, and he groans as he devour
s me, his fingers delving into me as he licks and sucks my clit.

  The orgasm that had been building comes back with gusto and my head falls back to my shoulders as I tumble over the edge. My heart pounding and my breath coming in short pants, I lift my head and run my fingers through his hair, focusing on his gorgeous face as he stands and looms over me. His gaze stays locked on mine, and I watch a million questions and emotions flash through his eyes.

  “What?” I ask quietly, cupping his jaw.

  “I’ll tell you when the time’s right.” He takes my arms and lifts them to wrap around his shoulders then grabs me by the back of my knees, lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold him while he carries me to the couch, sitting down with me straddling his lap.

  I lift my arms as he takes off my shirt, then my hips, and then I watch him pull himself free from his sweats. He slides his length back and forth through my folds as my nails dig into his shoulder. “Take me slow,” he orders as he holds himself steady, and I lower myself, biting my lip against the exquisite feel of him filling me. “Yes,” he hisses, grabbing my ass with one hand and the back of my neck with the other.

  I rise and fall slowly, enjoying the connection, the look on his face, the feel of his skin against mine. He pulls me forward, and I open my mouth over his as he urges me to ride faster while he takes control of the kiss. I let him lead the way, knowing he’s never failed to take me somewhere beautiful.

  He pulls his mouth from mine, and I rest my forehead against his as he grabs my ass with both hands and his hips start to rise and fall to meet mine, the two of us working in sync, in search of pleasure. When my inner walls begin to pulse, he groans then urges me to go faster, to ride him harder. I try, but my own orgasm makes my body give out, and then he flips me to my back and lifts my legs to his shoulders, fucking me hard. So hard there is a pinch of pain that only seems to intensify the pleasure that is coursing through my body.

  His hips jerk then his strokes slow and he lowers my legs from where they are resting. He kisses me once more, this time gentle and sweet, like he’s reminding me that no matter how hard he takes me, he can still be soft and tender. When the kiss slows, he picks me up without breaking our connection and carries me into his room. He puts one knee then the other onto the bed then lowers me down, and I whimper at the loss of him.

  “I’ll be right back.” He kisses my forehead, nose, and lips then leans back and tosses the sheet over me and goes into the bathroom. I hear the water turn on, and a few minutes later, he comes out with a washrag he uses to clean me up before kissing my stomach. When our eyes meet, he pulls the sheet back over me then takes the rag back into the bathroom.

  When he comes back out, he’s dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. I sit up holding the sheet to my chest then lean back against the headboard and watch him approach me.

  “Can you please go check your car for my bag?”

  He puts a fist in the bed and looms over me as he answers with a quiet “No.”

  “Braxton. I’m happy and relaxed. Don’t ruin that by being annoying.”

  He smiles and ducks his head so his lips brush my ear as he speaks. “Your bag is sitting on the table near the front door. If you hadn’t been set on running, you would have noticed it earlier.”

  “You knew where it was,” I accuse, leaning back to meet his gaze.

  “I saw it when I locked the door so my parents wouldn’t walk in on me fucking you.”

  Oh my God, I didn’t even think about them coming back in after they left. My cheeks get pink and he laughs.

  “You’re evil.”

  “Yet, you love me.” He smirks, and my heart pounds, because he might just be right.

  I might just be in love with him.

  Damn

  Chapter 14

  DAKOTA

  “THEY LOOK HAPPY.”

  At that comment from Braxton, I look a little more closely at the still wet photo of my parents I’m holding. My dad’s wearing a jean jacket with my mom on his back, looking over the top of his head and smiling. Both of them look young; the picture was probably taken when they first got together or not long after.

  “They were.” I lick my lips as his arms wrap around me. “They loved each other. They were inseparable.” Tears make the back of my throat uncomfortably tight. “It’s hard to remember that they were happy, that we were all happy. It’s like all the painful parts of my childhood have overshadowed the good times we had before things changed.”

  “I think that’s normal, baby. It’s always difficult for people to remember the good times, especially if those times are connected to something or someone who hurt them.” He turns me to face him then looks around my apartment before lowering his voice. “Jamie is going to be here soon. Why don’t you go up to my place to wait for him and I’ll take care of things here?”

  “I don’t think it will take me much longer to get things picked up.” It’s a lie. I thought I remembered from last night how bad things were, but I was wrong. It’s taken me over an hour with help from Braxton and his parents to get all my photos picked up and placed on the counters to dry, but my clothes and other things are still scattered across the apartment and shoved in the sink and the bathtub that are still filled with water.

  “Dakota!” Alisha calls, dragging my attention away from her son. “Why don’t you let me and Bret gather the stuff we think is salvageable, and then Braxton can have everything else taken care of?”

  I look from her to her husband. Since the moment I came out dressed in the clothes they went out to pick up for me, they have been at my side, wanting to pitch in and help in whatever way they can. I start to look around but stop when she takes my hand.

  “I know you want to be here, but—” She pauses, glancing around still looking as worried as she did the moment she walked in here earlier. “—I don’t think you should be.”

  I drag in a breath then nod, knowing she’s right, and now that I’ve gotten my photos picked up, the rest doesn’t really matter anyway. “Okay.” I give her a hug. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says quietly then lets me go and looks at her son. “Take her upstairs.”

  Without another word, Braxton leads me from my apartment to the elevator, and moments later holding my fish, we are stepping into his place. I place the small bowl on the counter in the kitchen then go to the couch and fall to my back. I shouldn’t be tired, but I feel exhausted. I need a vacation, a long one.

  “Do you want some tea?” he asks, and I make an affirmative grunting noise.

  “I’m taking that as a yes.” He laughs from the kitchen.

  I peek one eye open when Braxton comes over and sits on the coffee table then sit up when he holds a cup out toward me. “Thanks.” I take the mug from him and check him out as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a move that causes the black T-shirt he’s wearing to stretch across his shoulders, and the muscles in his arms to flex. “I like you in regular-people clothes.”

  “Regular-people clothes?”

  “I’m used to seeing you in suits or dress clothes, but you look good wearing jeans and T-shirts.”

  “Hmm.”

  I take a sip of tea then ask, “Would you think less of me if I used the fact that I’m sleeping with you to get a vacation?”

  “What?” He laughs.

  “Well, I need a vacation, but I just started working for IMG, so I don’t think it will get approved. But since I’m sleeping with you, do you think you can pull some strings?”

  “It depends.”

  “On what?” I raise a brow.

  “Exactly what would you be willing to do in order to get this vacation?”

  “I think that question would be considered sexual harassment,” I say as he takes the cup from my hand and sets it on the table. Then he crowds my space until I’m lying back on the couch. “What are you doing, Mr. Adams?”

  He opens his mouth to reply, but an annoying buzzing sound breaks into the moment and
he groans, resting his forehead to mine. “That’s probably your brother.”

  “I want this day to be over already.” I sigh, and he laughs, pushing away from me. He goes to the intercom on the wall in the kitchen, and I listen to him tell security that Jamie is allowed up. What feels like seconds later, the elevator doors open and my brother steps out. I don’t even bother getting up from the couch to greet him. I wait for him to come to me, and when he does, he frowns down at me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We need to have a conversation,” Braxton tells him, bringing two beers over and handing one to Jamie.

  “Are you two having a baby?”

  I glance at Braxton, wondering what the look on his face means, and quickly say, “I’m not pregnant.” Jamie visibly relaxes, but I’m too chicken to look at Braxton again. I’m on birth control, not that Braxton and I have ever once discussed that or children. I don’t even know if he wants a family someday. I hope he does, because that is something I for sure want, and I know if he doesn’t, this will never work. “Can you sit down?” I pat the couch next to me, and after Jamie sits, I take his hand.

  “What the fuck is going on? You two are freaking me out.”

  “Last night, someone broke into my place and trashed it,” I tell him, expecting him to react, but he just stares at me, unblinking. “I wasn’t home. Braxton and I were at his cabin.”

  “I have people looking into things,” Braxton cuts in, sitting on the couch on the opposite side of me. “The cops are involved and up to date on what’s happened.”

  “Do you have any idea who did it?” Jamie finally speaks, and I look at Braxton. He’s been on the phone all day off and on with the cops and the people he hired, but has been keeping things to himself, so I don’t really know what’s going on.