Authors: Kendall Ryan
“Are we going back to your place?” I whispered, nuzzling against the warmth of his neck. I loved the way his stubble lightly grazed my skin.
“Not tonight.”
I paused. “Oh.”
“Can I take you home?”
I thought it over. I didn’t want to ruin the evening.
Tonight was progress
, I had to keep reminding myself as we waited for a passing cab to stop.
“I could come over for a little while,” he offered.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I thought this was what you wanted?” Confusion etched into his brow.
I shook my head. Going out was just half of the equation. I wouldn’t give in this easily. “No apartment, no sex.”
“Why is that so important to you?”
“It just is. I don’t want to fall into the same pattern with you. Where you live is a huge fucking deal. Someone’s place says a lot about them. I don’t want to take the next step if you’re going to keep holding back.”
“Can’t I have just one secret?”
“Yes. Harmless secrets, like whether or not you pee in the shower—or if you’ve ever farted on the subway and blamed it on someone else.”
He broke out in laughter, despite the heavy moment. “You’re too much. You know that?”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“And for the record, I don’t pee in the shower.”
“Yeah right,” I scoffed. “I thought all guys did that. It’s like a locker room thing—crossing streams and playing swords . . .”
He shook his head. “Nope. Not this guy. I use the toilet. While the shower water heats up.”
I chuckled. “Me too.” My foolish brain cataloged that it was just another of the many things we had in common. “Still, this is a big deal to me, Braydon. Huge, in fact. I want us to
trust each other. If you can’t even give me your address, then maybe we need more time.”
He nodded. “You’re right. Goodnight then.”
“Night,” I said a bit more harshly than I meant to. I turned from him and slipped into the cab that had stopped at the curb, feeling mixed emotions about the way our first date had ended.
17
Braydon and I continued seeing each other casually—just as friends.
Yay, me
. We’d met up for coffee, drinks with Ben and Emmy, a couple of movies, and lunch on our own. It was unclear if our outings were just as friends or something more. We hadn’t been to my apartment again¸ and we hadn’t so much as kissed. It appeared we were at a standstill. I needed something beyond the physical, and he’d said he’d missed our friendship, so this seemed to be our new arrangement for now.
Emmy was more confused than ever about things. For all intents and purposes we appeared to be dating, yet we both insisted to Ben and Emmy, separately, that things were platonic.
“Let me get this straight,” she said, setting down her empty champagne glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “First, you weren’t dating but you were sleeping together . . . and now you’re dating but nothing’s happening between you two?”
“Exactly.” I grabbed a cheese puff from the tray of a cute waiter as he whizzed past.
“I don’t get you guys.”
“Welcome to the club,” I muttered, popping the morsel into my mouth. I hadn’t mentioned to Emmy the things I’d learned about Braydon—about his past relationship or his mother’s passing. They felt too private, and I wanted to protect him.
We were in Los Angeles for a fashion event, and Emmy and I were currently mingling at an afterparty, waiting for the guys to arrive. So far, I hadn’t seen much of Braydon—we were staying in separate hotel rooms, and he’d been busy with the fashion show, photo shoots, and appearances. It was all for the launch of a new California lifestyle and surf brand. Braydon, with his messy hair and piercing blue eyes, was the perfect spokesmodel, and he was garnering a lot of positive buzz. For the past two days, Emmy and I had spent our time at the Santa Monica pier, lying on the beach during the days when the guys were working, then joining them in the evenings for dinner. Tonight was our last night there, and I hoped to sneak in at least a little private time with the man of the hour.
“Let’s go see what hors d’oeuvres they have over there.” I pointed to the far end of the room where another banquet table was set with goodies. Emmy chuckled and nodded, following me across the room.
Just as I was biting into the biggest chocolate-covered strawberry I’d ever seen, Ben and Braydon appeared. His eyes
zeroed in on my mouth as the berry was suspended precariously between my teeth. A little chill zipped up my spine. He was still watching me, or more specifically, my mouth. His eyes were trained on what I was doing to the strawberry. I felt the chocolate begin to melt at the contact of my tongue. I licked the melted droplet of warm chocolate from my bottom lip, toying with Braydon. I saw him wince. My teeth lightly grazed the flesh of the berry, just like Braydon used to do to me. He’d lightly bite my neck, my collarbone, my nipples. I shivered at the memory. Sinking my teeth fully into the berry, bursts of sweet juice combined with the flavor of the bitter dark chocolate and caused a low moan to emanate in the back of my throat.
Braydon stalked over in two long strides, completely closing the distance between us, his pulse jumping at the base of his neck. I’d never seen him look so serious, but his gaze was locked on mine as if I’d done something terribly wrong. One hand curled around my hip and the other removed the stem of the berry from my fingers. “Careful there, kitten, or that dessert isn’t the only thing that’ll be in your mouth.”
My breathing faltered. I worried my damn heart was going to give out. The way he was looking at me was pure sex. Like he owned me. My brain screamed for air, yet I remained rooted there, breathless and completely at his mercy.
“Breathe for me,” he whispered, dropping the stem into a nearby wastebasket.
I sucked in a breath of much-needed oxygen.
There, much better
.
Braydon’s deep blue gaze remained trained on mine, watching me, reading every emotion that flitted across my brain. I wanted him. And he knew it.
Several tense heartbeats later, Braydon was whisked away by an older man in a suit and I was left with an ache the size of the Grand Canyon between my thighs.
Damn him for still being able to get to me like that. I was supposed to be taunting
him
. Not the other way around. But he’d turned the table on me. My seductive berry-eating trick was being used against me as my head filled with thoughts of me on my knees, taking his hot length into my mouth, flicking my tongue along his steely shaft until I found the barbell piercing his head.
Mmm . . . memories . . .
Braydon was still chatting quietly with the older man, but they’d now been joined by two beautiful blond bombshells in barely there cocktail dresses. Game over. No way I could compete with them. He remained with the group, but his eyes strayed to mine every so often to let me know he was still thinking of me, of our little encounter just moments ago. The blonde to his left leaned in close to him, brushing her breasts against his chest as she whispered something meant only for his ears. Braydon pulled back ever so slightly and shook his head, no doubt refusing whatever it was she was offering.
My heart soared.
His sexy blue eyes found mine once again. I felt a bolt of heat radiate from my belly down to my core. He was becom
ing harder and harder to resist. But until he fully let me in, I knew I needed to stand my ground.
Teasing him just a little more, though, was something I couldn’t resist.
In the elevator ride back to our rooms, Ben and Emmy were in their own private bliss, holding hands, whispering to each other and laughing at their own inside jokes—which left Braydon and me standing in stony silence, awkwardness hanging in the air around us. Leaning forward to punch the button to my floor, my bottom accidently brushed the front of Braydon’s slacks. His entire body stiffened and he let out a muted curse. My lips curled up in a smile. It seemed as though I ruffled his feathers every bit as much as he ruffled mine. Good to know. I stood a little taller in my heels, feeling proud. When I turned back to look in his direction, Braydon’s expression caught me off guard. Intensity radiated from him. Something was off with him. But I had no clue what.
“Would you mind walking me to my room?” I asked, my tone low.
He gave a stiff nod. “Of course I will.”
Ben and Emmy exited the elevator on their floor and Braydon remained by my side, riding up several more floors and following me to my hotel room once the lift stopped. I fumbled a bit with the key card thanks to my shaking hands. I had no game plan, no clue what I was doing. All I knew was that I wasn’t ready for the night to be over. I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Braydon.
Once we made it inside the room, I flipped on a table-side lamp and Braydon turned to me. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I breathed.
Two fingers lifted my chin and his eyes searched mine. Slowly, achingly slowly, he lowered his mouth to mine. “Don’t lie to me,” he exhaled against my lips.
I shook my head. “Never.”
The anticipation of his mouth so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath put my entire body on hyperalert. I wanted him to kiss me more than I wanted my next breath. It’d been too long. Too many lonely nights remembering all the ways he used to pleasure my body. His mouth closed over mine in a kiss that started off sweet and innocent but quickly turned into something hungry and hot. He nibbled at my bottom lip until my lips parted, then his tongue sought entrance and began rubbing against mine. Holy hell, he knew how to kiss. I suckled at his tongue and he groaned into my mouth. Those sounds were like pouring gasoline on the flames inside me. Everything ignited at once. I needed him. Wanted him. Consequences be damned. I fought with his shirt, grabbing fistfuls of it and yanking. He’d already succeeded in ruining me. I might as well go for the gusto. Braydon caught on and broke the kiss only long enough to tear his shirt off. My hands found his belt and I began tugging.
“Slow down, kitten.” His big hands captured my jaw and he whispered against my lips. “There’s no rush.”
He was wrong, though. There was a rush. If I was going to go through with this, it was best to get caught up in the heat of
passion—to not let myself slow down to think this through. I dropped to my knees and pulled down his zipper while looking up to meet his gaze.
Braydon’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watched me with wide eyes.
As I tugged down his boxer briefs and dress slacks in one motion, his thick cock sprang free to greet me. Good God, it’d been too long. I’d missed this thing. How that was even possible, I had no clue, only that it was an absolute fact. I missed the breathing sounds he made when I pleased him, missed the way his abdominals tightened when he was getting close, and yes, I missed his naughty piercing. A lot.
Gripping the base of him with one hand, I guided him into the warmth of my mouth. He let out a string of curse words and fisted a hand in my hair. Pushing past the initial gag reflex, I took him as deep as I could and felt his knees lock.
“Fucking hell, kitten.” His thumb smoothed up and down my cheek as he looked down at me with wonder. “Don’t make me fall for you . . .”
He couldn’t be sweet right now. My poor tattered and broken heart couldn’t take it. This was supposed to be a hookup. Nothing more. I gripped him harder and stroked as I paid extra attention to his piercing, suckling his head into my mouth and rubbing my tongue along the barbell.
He let out a ragged groan.
Gripping my arms, seconds later Braydon hauled me to my feet and stripped off my dress and heels in a matter of mo
ments. I stood before him in a pair of black panties and nothing more, and even those were tugged down my legs before I could blink. He was every bit as intent on getting me naked as I had been with him. My heart raced.
Lifting me over his shoulder, Braydon carted me to the nearby bed and deposited me unceremoniously in the center, then began crawling up my body, spreading my legs wide with his hands. Kissing a wet path up my body, he moved with calculated precision. For all the rushing we were both doing, things suddenly slowed. He was making this about me, being too sweet, too considerate. I couldn’t take it.
“Inside me . . .” I gripped his shoulders and tugged him farther up the bed. “I need you inside me.” No sense pretending this was some romantic lovemaking session.
His eyes met mine and a low growl tore from his throat. No more words needed to be exchanged. Braydon’s hand captured his length and he aligned himself with my entrance before slowly pushing forward. He remembered that I needed time to adjust to his size and acted accordingly, letting me get accustomed while his jaw tensed with need.
Don’t make me fall for you . . .
His words rang in my head with each thrust. He entered me and slowly pulled out, rocking against me in the most deliciously exquisite rhythm. I gripped his firm ass, pressing him closer, needing him to fully claim me, and whimpered when he hit just the right spot.
“Kitten,” he whispered sweetly in my ear. “You feel so fucking good.”
Gentle bites and sucking kisses at my neck brought back a rush of memories. Too many good memories to count. Tears formed in my eyes and I squeezed them tight to prevent any from leaking out. I couldn’t let him see me break down. I just needed to stay in the moment, to feel every bit of pleasure he was giving me. And I wanted to please him; he’d been through so much pain . . . maybe we could heal each other.
Braydon brought my knees together, closing my legs and kneeled in front of me, slowly pulling out and pushing in until he was fully sated. Feeling him like this was beautiful torture . . . he was deeper than ever before.
Arching my back, I lost myself in the rhythm, in the sensations his body elicited from mine. All too soon, I was moaning his name as I came apart. He followed me over the edge, burying his hands in my hair and exhaling a soft curse as he came.
18
Once we were back home, it was as if nothing had changed. We should have been nominated for Oscars for the amazing job we did acting like nothing had happened between us in LA. Braydon texted occasionally, asking me for coffee or for a walk in the park. Even though it was painful to see him, to be near him, I usually caved in and said yes. But we were still strictly friends and hadn’t slipped up with any physical contact again. It seemed we were more careful around each other than ever before—going out of our way to avoid touching at all costs. When he reached for the bill, I conveniently needed something from my purse, and when I grabbed a sugar packet for my coffee, his hands tucked themselves into his pockets.
I was still waiting for him to realize that he couldn’t live without me, just like Emmy kept saying he would. So far, it was a no-go. And I was more depressed than ever.
It hadn’t helped that I’d come down with the world’s worst case of the flu. For the past several days, I felt achy and
exhausted and had been regularly puking my guts out. The first few days I’d called in sick to work, but now it seemed that my body was growing accustomed to living with the sickness, so I ventured into work but kept a plastic garbage bag under my desk for when the urge struck. Oh, joy.
A text from Braydon was a nice distraction later that afternoon.
Braydon: Hey you up for grabbing coffee or a drink tonight?
I stared down at my phone. Another half-hearted attempt. I didn’t want a coffee date out with a friend at this point. I wanted him, no holds barred. Even if I had wanted to say yes, the crappy way I felt prevented me. I hadn’t kept down coffee in nearly a week. I’d taken to drinking ginger ale in the morning. And though the relaxing buzz that came from a nice glass of wine sounded nice, I doubted I could stomach that either.
Me: No thanks, I’ll have to take a rain check. I have the flu.
Braydon: Shit. That sucks. Let me know if you need anything—I’m on it.
Me: Thanks, I will.
And that was that.
Until two days later.
I was home. Saturday, thank god.
Braydon: Hey, you feeling better?
I didn’t want him to worry, to insist on coming over with soup or something, and I wouldn’t put that past him. The truth was I just wanted to be alone. I felt like shit. I looked worse. I was in sweatpants with greasy, matted hair and I
wanted to stay that way, warm under my covers for the rest of the day.
Me: I’m on the mend, but not there yet. Sorry to disappoint.
Braydon: You never disappoint. I just wish you were feeling better.
I released a heavy sigh. He was in his famous sweet, gentlemanly mode. He held my beating heart in the palm of his hand, little did he know. He had the ability to crush it or put me back together, make me whole. I feared what he’d choose. I knew he’d been through hell in his past relationships, losing his mom and watching what his dad went through afterward.
I needed to swallow my pride and move on. Maybe he’d never be ready—or maybe I wasn’t the girl to get him there. Something inside me told me I was, though. I was the girl for the job. He’d said himself that the chemistry we shared wasn’t something he’d ever experienced. Me neither. That had to count for something, right?
Every remembered whisper, every sweet thing he’d done, the way he’d owned my body, made me crave him. I shuddered, and not from the fever chills wracking my body.
Braydon: Can I do anything? I don’t like this.
He didn’t like it? Shit, I was the one who’d lost five pounds in the last week alone. Actually, I counted that as the one and only benefit of this flu.
Me: Nothing you can do, but thanks. I think it just needs to run its course.
Braydon: Well I’m checking on you tomorrow, no matter what.
I appreciated his concern, I truly did, but it wasn’t making it any easier on my heart. The one organ that hadn’t been affected by the flu from hell. What I’d done to deserve this, I had no clue.
I went to bed that night with my head swimming from the combo of nighttime sleep meds and pain reliever and collapsed into a heavy sleep.
When Braydon texted in the morning, the threat of him coming over and actually discovering my raggedy state prompted me to lie.
Braydon: Hey kitten, feeling better yet?
Me: Yes, actually, quite a lot.
Braydon: That’s awesome. I need you to meet me somewhere today. It’s important.
An address off Fifth Street followed in a separate text. He wanted me to venture all the way to the West Village near NYU.
Keeping up my ruse of being healthy, I agreed. I had no idea how I’d ride the subway, which was likely to feel like a bad roller coaster to my ravaged stomach. Big-girl panties today. Suck it up, buttercup.
Just the act of getting showered and ready was exhausting, but I rallied. Leaving my apartment forty minutes later, I was presentable in dark-washed jeans, a bright pink cotton knit sweater, and my tennis shoes.
Here goes nothing
. I didn’t know where I was meeting him, but I figured casual dress would be fine. Braydon was never one for fancy outings.
Once I arrived in the neighborhood, I didn’t know what I was looking for since he’d given me an address and not the name of the establishment we were meeting at. It was a rather artsy area. I passed by Tompkins Square Park, where street performers sang and danced for tips, and a poetry club that was open to walk-ins. I approached a building bearing the address he’d given me. A rehabbed industrial building in soft gray brick with a big red front door.
I texted him, unsure of what to do next.
Me: I’m here. What is this place?
Braydon: My apartment. Come inside. Sixth floor. Apartment 601.
What? Whoa. I suddenly felt dizzy with the cars and people zooming past. He’d invited me over? Simple as that?
I headed inside and took the elevator up to the sixth floor. I arrived at unit 601 and gave a light knock on the door. The door swung open to reveal a smiling Braydon. He pulled me to his chest and gave me a squeeze. “Hi,” he murmured against my hair.
“Hello,” I returned, still a bit dazed.
When he released me, my eyes darted behind him to take in the light-filled loft. It had tall ceilings that were crisscrossed with wooden beams, an exposed brick wall running along the living space, and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the city street below. It was charming and cozy. Just like him. Simple furniture and a color scheme with dark gray, tan, and splashes of blue made it feel inviting.
“Come in.” He ushered me inside and shut the door. The scent that enveloped me was every bit Braydon. All male and warm and delicious. I wanted to just stand here and inhale, but Braydon’s hand on my lower back guided me into the living room.
“Would you like a tour?”
I nodded slowly. His eyes locked on mine and told me he knew that this was a big step in the right direction, which made me happy, though I wasn’t totally sure what to make of this gesture. Was he opening his life up for me?
I followed him forward, stepping onto a comfortable shaggy rug that warmed up the space. The wooden plank floors creaked lightly as we walked. I liked that I had somewhere to picture Braydon when we were apart.
He showed me the living room, which included a framed photograph of his mom and dad, his tiny but ultraneat kitchen that contained an impressive coffee and espresso maker that I was dying to try. I imagined waking up to the smell of roasting beans. Then we ventured down a narrow hallway that led to his bathroom, with a glass-enclosed shower, and his bedroom at the far end. It was open and bright with a large bed dressed in white and gray linens. He had a tall dresser and a small writing desk and a chair positioned against the far wall. It was here that I imagined him working on the finances for Ben and Emmy’s charity. Black-and-white photography prints were hung on the walls and a small throw rug was positioned at the foot of
his bed. It was a lovely room, but I was hit with a pang of sadness that he was only just now sharing it.
“Kitten?”
My gaze lifted to him, pushing away the solemn thoughts. “It’s a beautiful place.”
His frown lines deepened. “You don’t look well.” His hand raised to smooth down an unruly lock of hair. “You’re pale. Are you sure you feel okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. My stomach was turning somersaults, but that feeling was nothing compared to the uncertainty and sadness in my heart. “Maybe we could just go sit down.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
We returned to the living room and I slumped onto the sofa. The throw pillows smelled like him, and even though I’d wanted nothing more than to be here at his place, it now felt too intimate, too personal and I was too weak to handle all the emotions it caused.
Braydon leaned over me and placed a palm against my cheek. “Hmm, you feel okay. Warm, but not overly so.”
I blinked up at him. The journey across the city and the emotional backlash of finally being here had caught up with me. I needed a nap. I yawned.
“I’m going to make you some homemade chicken noodle soup. That sound good?”
I nodded, weakly. “Yes, thank you.”
I dozed while he cooked and woke a short time later to the sounds of him moving about in the kitchen. I sat up,
stretched, and ventured in to join him. The discarded remains of chopped carrots, celery, and onions sat on a nearby cutting board and a pot of soup was bubbling on the stove. Braydon glanced up from where he was stirring the concoction.
“It’s almost ready. Just waiting for the noodles to become tender.”
“Okay.”
“Go sit. I’ll serve you.”
“Do you have crackers?” I asked.
“Sure do. I’ll bring them.”
I smiled and went back to the couch to wait. A few minutes later, Braydon emerged carrying a bowl of steaming hot soup and a box of crackers.
“Here, eat up. This was my mom’s recipe and she made it for me whenever I was sick.”
“Thank you.” I started in on a cracker first, needing to test my stomach. It went down easily enough, so I moved on to the soup while Braydon supervised. “It’s delicious.” I could taste a hint of parsley and the warm broth was divine. I ate the entire bowlful.
“More?” he asked.
I shook my head. My belly was full for the first time in weeks. No need to tempt fate. I lay back and rested my head on the sofa.
Braydon played with my hair and hummed quietly while I tried to relax.
Opening my eyes several minutes later, I turned to face him. “Well, the soup was delicious, but I should probably get
out of your way. I’m not going to be very good company tonight.”
“Stop it. You’re not going anywhere. I invited you here because I wanted to spend time with you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why did you invite me over?”
Today. Finally.
“Because it was time. And you belong here with me.” His hand closed around mine and he gave it a squeeze. My heart pumped wildly in my chest. “And I didn’t invite you over for any funny business. I know I lost those privileges a while ago.”
I looked down at our intertwined hands, thankful that he didn’t mention our slip-up in LA a few weeks ago. “So what do you propose we do then?” If I was feeling better, there would have probably been a hint of suggestiveness in my tone, but I truly felt too crummy.
“We stay in tonight, and not because we’re hiding out here, but so you can take it easy and heal. We’ll watch a movie and get some more of that magic soup inside of you.”
I wanted to make a quip about the soup being the only thing tonight that was getting inside me, but I was too weak and exhausted to even be funny. Sad day right there. “Okay,” I agreed. Honestly, a movie and cuddling with Bray sounded like the perfect evening. Much better than sulking alone in my apartment for the millionth time.
Braydon pulled a woolly throw blanket from the back of the sofa and covered us both. “Come here, kitten. Lean on me.”
I did as I was told. God, he felt perfect. This felt perfect.
How did he not feel this between us? He lay down on the couch and pulled me closer, aligning our bodies until we were pressed nice and close. As great as this moment was, there was still a conversation we needed to have. I needed some answers about this puzzle of a man. I looked up and met his eyes, bringing my palm to his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here today.”
“You’re welcome.” He closed his eyes, relaxing while my fingertips grazed lightly across his stubble.
“Bray?”
“Hmm . . .”
“I have a few things I need to say.”
His eyes slowly opened.
I took a deep, fortifying breath to steady myself. “I know there are things in your past that are preventing you from moving forward. And I’m so glad you told me about your mom. It helps me understand things a lot better. But as for your ex, I just wanted to say whatever she did to you, I’m sorry. We can take things slow, do things your way.”
He remained silently watching me and blinked twice. “Fuck.” That single word was his acknowledgment that I was right, and that I knew more than he realized. “What are you saying, exactly?”
“That I accept you. And your past, and these flaws that make it impossible for you to have a relationship.”
“You don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Then tell me. Explain it to me,” I begged. I was here, in
his apartment, and as far as I was concerned, there was no better place or time to have this discussion.
“I already told you there was a girl.”
“And? You’re no longer capable of relationships?”
He frowned. “Not exactly, no.”
I waited, holding my breath, hoping and praying he’d open up and explain it all to me finally.
He licked his lips. “It’s just that my last relationship ended disastrously.”
I listened silently as he opened himself up to me. We lay side by side on the sofa and Braydon told me a little more about the story he’d begun earlier—that his last girlfriend became unstable once he broke things off, and she began harassing him and his family. She couldn’t accept that things were over. That he couldn’t date in the public eye, because she’d harass the new girls he began seeing after her. I could only imagine how the stress of that, coupled with the loss of his mother, made him hesitant to enter into another serious relationship.