Chapter 4: All or Nothing: Chapter 3

The following days at work dragged by at a snail’s pace. I’d worked hard to become a microbiologist at a pharmaceutical firm in Manhattan, and most days it was rewarding. I studied living organisms and watched how they reacted to different stimuli. The last several days, though, I’d felt more alone than ever. Sitting in my windowless lab, I grew lonelier and bitter. Emmy was away for a month in Tahiti. I had no man, no prospects, and not even a pet to snuggle with at night.

On the way home to Queens I stopped to pick up my favorite Mexican food from Mucho Amigo, hoping it would cheer me up. After carrying the Styrofoam containers to my fourth-floor apartment, I kicked off my shoes and placed my food on the coffee table. My loneliness was nothing a spicy chicken enchilada couldn’t fix. I hoped. I checked my personal email messages on my phone while I grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge. An email from Emmy entitled EMERGENCY caught my attention.

Ellie, Hoping you can help. We just received a call from the building superintendent that there was a water-main break in our building. They’ve stopped the leak, but he said our apartment flooded. I’m hoping you can go to our place ASAP to dry out our wet belongings so we don’t come home to a mold infestation. We have plenty of towels on hand to dry up the place. Use whatever you need. I’m so sorry, but please know we appreciate it!

Thank you!

xo, Emmy Shaw P.S. How much do I freakin’ love signing my new last name?!

Son of a—! There went my relaxing dinner plans. I stuffed my uneaten dinner in the fridge, grabbed my purse and keys, then scurried off for Ben and Emmy’s, back in Manhattan, double-checking that I still had their key on my key ring as I fled down the stairs, the appetizing scent of my enchiladas fading in the distance.

Their apartment was pitch black when I arrived. The power must have been shut off when they’d gotten the leak. Great. I felt along the wall and made my way into the kitchen. I’d been here half a dozen times, but not enough to know the place by feel alone in the absolute darkness. I pulled out my cell phone and used the meager light to guide me. Locating a couple of candles and a lighter inside a junk drawer, I instantly felt calmer with the low, flickering flames illuminating the dark, eerily silent apartment.

I surveyed the damage, carrying a candle out in front of me. The living room rug squished under my feet. Not a good sign. The bedroom, home office, and bathrooms seemed unaffected. The damage seemed to be centered in the living room, where everything, including the couch and throw pillows, were damp. Great. How did I get a large sectional out of the apartment by myself? This was just fucking fantastic.

A scrape of metal outside the door caught my attention. The door handle jiggled once, then twice, and a man’s voice cursed. I’d locked the door behind me, but someone was clearly trying to get in. I’d seen too many scary movies with a girl alone in the dark in an unfamiliar place. Every hair on my body stood on end, and my hands shook with fear as I darted for the kitchen and drew a knife from the butcher’s block. The door opened and I sprung forward, the knife out in front of me.

“Holy fuck!” the man swore loudly, guiding my knife-wielding arm away from his midsection and pinning me to the wall. “Kitten? Is that you?”

“Braydon?” I asked, peering at the handsome intruder in the faint light.

“Yeah. It’s me.” He turned me to face him, still holding my arm. “If I release you, you promise not to stab me?”

“Braydon! Stop it. Of course. I thought you were a serial killer.”

He removed the knife from my grasp and set it on the nearby console table beside Ben’s door. “Still, let’s set this over here until you’re feeling less stabby.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I got a call from Ben. About the flood.”

“I got an email from Emmy.”

We watched each other for a few heartbeats in silence. Being near him again in the darkened, silent apartment sent a rush of awareness skittering over my skin. I remembered how his full mouth felt on mine, the insistence and gentleness of his kiss. I was glad the room was too dim for him to notice my cheeks turn pink and my hands begin to shake.

“You okay?” He reached out a hand to steady me, gliding it along my upper arm.

“Yeah. Sorry. I just . . . got a little light-headed. The power’s off and you scared me.”

“I’m sorry, kitten,” he whispered, the deep timbre of his voice soothing me.

“It’s fine.” I turned away from him, unwilling to let myself get sucked into his orbit. Yet again. The other night was embarrassing enough. I’d come undone so easily for him. Good thing he didn’t know that no man had ever had such a powerful effect on me.

“How bad is the damage?” he asked, following me into the living room.

“It’s mostly centered in the living room. I think the couch is ruined. And the dining room floor’s a little wet, too.”

“Cool. You want some wine?”

Cool? I spun around to face him. He’d ventured into the kitchen and was raiding their wine cabinet. What the hell?

“I can’t see what’s what in the dark. How picky are you?”

“Um . . .” Was he insane?

“White or red?” he asked.

“We shouldn’t. We’re here to help, right?”

“Oh, we definitely are. I’m ordering us a pizza, too. You hungry?”

“Starving, actually,” I admitted, my stomach grumbling at the mere mention of food and the thought of the uneaten enchilada in my fridge at home. Mmm, pizza sounded fantastic. “What about cleaning up?” I asked, looking from him back to the soggy living room.

Braydon shrugged. “I’ll call someone to come remove the couch, rug, and whatever else tomorrow . . . but since they lured both of us here, I think we should relax and have something to eat. Ben has the best wine collection, too. He gets cases of this shit flown in from Italy. He’s friends with the owner of a vineyard outside of Milan. Trust me, you’ll want some.”

I watched as he set two wineglasses and a bottle on the counter and began pulling open drawers in search of a corkscrew.

“It’s in here.” I pulled open the third drawer on the right and produced the fancy compressed opener I’d seen Emmy use.

“Sexy and talented. Thanks.” He took the device from me and quickly opened the bottle, pouring a healthy measure into each of our glasses. “To water-main breaks.” He lifted his glass to mine.

I smiled at him, feeling the tension and stress of my day melt away just from his closeness. He had one of those magnetic personalities; he was so laid back, like nothing ever bothered him. I found it refreshing and extremely intoxicating. I could use a dose of that in my life. I was wound so damn tight most of the time. I took a sip of the wine and felt it warm a path down my throat and into my belly.

“Since the sofa is out, shall we lounge in the bedroom?” He winked.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said with a snort.

“Why, gorgeous?” He leaned in close, brushing his nose along my jaw and inhaling slowly. “Afraid of what might happen?”

I rolled my eyes and followed him to the bedroom. Braydon situated candles on the dresser and bedside tables, providing a nice glow for the room. “What do you like on your pizza?”

Honestly, I wasn’t picky when it came to pizza, but I blurted, “Sausage and extra onions.” That would ensure I wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him again later. I’d have breath from hell, thanks to those toppings. Genius, Ellie. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

He shot me a curious glance.

While Braydon called in our order, I sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to feel too out of place, alone with a man I’d unabashedly got it on with last weekend, sitting on my friend’s bed in their dark, utterly silent apartment.

He kept our wineglasses filled and thankfully the conversation flowed as well. We sat cross-legged on the bed, sharing an entire large pizza and two bottles of wine. And he was right. Ben had the best wine.

“So . . . do you like being a model?”

He nodded, taking another bite of the pie. He hadn’t complained once about my choice in toppings. Smart man. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“Do you travel a lot?”

He shook his head. “New York’s my biggest market. I tend to do a lot of print work and not as much of the international stuff, like Ben does.”

Good to know. I could never handle being with a man who traveled that much. Not that I should even be entertaining such thoughts. Braydon was never going to be mine. I blamed the errant thought on the wine.

Once I was thoroughly full and tipsy, I fell back against the mountain of pillows piled at the headboard. I was full and nicely buzzed—an altogether pleasant combination. “I could stay here forever.” Oops. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Braydon lay down next to me, bringing his palm to my cheek, his thumb gliding along my cheekbone. “You’re awesome, you know that?”

“How so?” I mumbled.

“You’re so chill, so easy to be around. You’re not afraid to be yourself. Fuck, you’re not afraid to eat more pizza than I did.”

I slugged his shoulder lazily. “Hey! Way to make me feel self-conscious.”

“I’m just impressed, that’s all.” He grinned his beautiful lopsided grin, which lit up his whole face. The one that I was powerless against. Dammit.

“Don’t do that.” I squished his cheeks between my thumb and forefinger.

“What?”

“Flash that panty-dropping grin at me.”

He chuckled, low and deep in his throat. “Most girls like that, kitten.”

“I’m not most girls.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Oh yeah? What else did you notice?”

“Hmm.” His thumb stroked my jawline softly. It felt incredible. “How good you taste. Your scent. The way your body feels when you come. How it felt when you dug your hands into my hair.”

My body responded to his voice by breaking out in chill bumps, my heart thumping quickly in my chest. His way with words was too much. He was too bold. Too confident. My poor libido couldn’t take it.

“What do you remember?” he whispered softly.

A thousand images flashed through my brain. Braydon’s hands skimming up my thighs. My panties dropping to the floor. His hands on my hips as he guided me into the stall. His tongue sliding against mine. The way his stiff tuxedo felt against my hands, and his soft hair between my fingers. “Your, um, pretty blue eyes and messy hair,” I croaked.

He smiled widely. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

He leaned toward me slowly, giving me the chance to pull away. Only I didn’t. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine again. I let my eyes drop closed and awaited contact. He didn’t disappoint. His soft, full mouth pressed slowly to mine, his lips damp and parted. Our tongues touched once, twice, as he kissed me slowly. It made me want more. Pushing my hands into his hair, I angled my mouth closer, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue swept against mine, dancing so knowledgeably and intimately that I was lost to him.

He pressed down on me, guiding me to the mattress so he could move on top of me. Suddenly realizing whose bed we were on, I pushed against him. This was wrong. “Stop, we can’t.”

“What’s wrong, kitten?” he murmured against my neck, pressing damp kisses along the column of my throat.

“This is Ben and Emmy’s bed.” I pressed a palm flat against his chest, putting some distance between us.

He looked around like he was noticing our surroundings for the first time. Then he rolled off me and we lay side by side. “Let me take you home then.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. This just isn’t me.”

He pressed a palm to my cheek, giving it a careful pat.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on. I just can’t do this.”

His thumb lightly rubbed my cheek and his other settled against my hip. “You had fun the other night, right?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Let me ask you something.” He hesitated just a moment, his thumb lightly caressing my skin. “You feel this between us, right? This . . . connection?”

I blinked at him, refusing to answer. Of course I did. I’d be dead not to.

“We owe it to ourselves to give in to this. It’s not always like this, you know? This chemistry we have. And I know you feel it, too.” He swallowed, continuing to watch me. “I know you’ve sworn off men, so I’m not asking for anything in return. No commitment. No strings. Just us. Exploring this. Giving in to this sexuality between us.”

Original. A man who wanted casual sex without any chance of commitment. “Are you high? What in the world makes you think I’d be interested in that type of arrangement?”

His eyes locked on mine. “You can’t deny the chemistry between us. Imagine how good it will be when we fuck.”

I inhaled swiftly, biting my lip to keep from whimpering.

Braydon continued, “Sex and intimacy is a physical need. An ache all of us have. I could fulfill that for you.”

I remained silent while I contemplated his words. On the surface they made sense. I had physical needs. My vibrator usually satisfied those. For the most part. Sort of. But Braydon was gorgeous. And funny. And sexy. And he certainly wasn’t cut out to be my Mr. Right, so there’d be little harm in indulging in whatever this was with him. Right?

“One taste wasn’t enough, kitten,” he growled.

Our eyes connected and I searched for meaning behind his proposal. Why did he want me? And why did he want sex but not a relationship? What was that wounded look he worked to cover with his sexy bravado?

I knew this was wrong on so many levels. This was Braydon, male model and player extraordinaire. He was so far out of the realm of anyone I’d consider dating. But even as the thoughts tumbled inside my head, I knew that wasn’t what this was. He wasn’t asking to date me. And just once, I wanted to do something crazy. Act on my body’s hidden desires for a man so devastatingly beautiful I’d want the lights on during sex—cellulite be damned—just so I could watch him come apart. I wanted to be naughty. To have an adventure that I’d remember fondly for years to come. And Braydon seemed all too happy to oblige me. Maybe it was the wine that had left me hazy and warm, but his idea didn’t sound that bad.

He mistook my silence for acquiescence and leaned in to kiss me again, his lips softly molding to mine, then growing more demanding as the intensity between us ramped up. My arms circled his neck, my fingers roaming into his hair, and I pressed my body to his. His hips pressed to mine and I felt his heavy erection nudge against my belly. I pulled back just a fraction.

“Bray . . .” I breathed, pressing a palm to his chest. I didn’t know what I was asking for, but the needy quality to my voice was a dead giveaway.

“I don’t mean to get you so riled up,” he chuckled.

“You don’t.”

His fingers pushed my hair back from my face and remained buried in my hair, lightly massaging my scalp. “I can see your pulse fluttering in your neck, the blush coloring your chest. I excite you.”

“You scare me,” I admitted softly.

“You want me to fuck you. To teach you the ways a man can pleasure your body.”

I sucked in a breath and held it, shocked by his words. He did excite me. Possibly more than any man had ever before.

I couldn’t believe I was actually considering this—hanging on his every word. This wasn’t me. But after a string of bad first dates, lousy sexual episodes, and so many run-ins with my vibrator that I needed to replace the batteries—his offer was intriguing. I couldn’t look away. His deep blue eyes gazed into mine so adoringly. He was mesmerizing. Utter male perfection.

“It’s intoxicating knowing how feisty I get you.” He brought his hand to my jaw and glided the back of his knuckles along my cheek. Shivers slipped down my body at the soft contact. No one had stroked my jawline like that before. So gentle, so soft. His touch was addictive.

“What do you want?” I found my voice, however shaky.

“Me and you. Pleasing each other. Giving in to this.”

“You just want to sleep with me?” I wanted to hear him say it. I doubted he was offering to take me out and wine and dine me.

“Among other things.”

“Like a one-time thing?” I held my breath for his response.

“Once wouldn’t be enough, and we both know that.”

Oh. The ache between my thighs intensified.

“Let’s not overthink this.” His fingers whispered against my skin.

I sat up on the bed, needing to distance myself from his sweet touch before I did something I might regret. I drew a deep breath, trying to clear my head from the wine and simultaneously ignore the ache between my legs that his presence alone inspired. “You’re suggesting a friends-with-benefits type of arrangement?” I asked, pressing my fingers to my temples. I wished I hadn’t drunk so much. My brain felt numb and heavy.

Braydon sat up beside me, watching my reaction. After a moment, he reached for his glass of wine and took another sip. “Hmm.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “I prefer something more original. Pleasure pals . . . bed buddies . . .”

I smiled despite the insane conversation we were having. “Fuck friends.”

“If you like.”

“I don’t know . . . I don’t think I can do that. . . .” I said softly.

He took my hand. “Don’t answer tonight. Let me take you home and tuck you into bed.”

I nodded. Sleep sounded heavenly. I’d had too much wine. Too much pizza. Too much hormone-fueled conversation with a devastatingly handsome man. My body wasn’t used to this.

“What time do you get off work tomorrow?”

“Six,” I responded without thinking.

“I’ll come by at seven with dinner. We’ll discuss our arrangement then.”

Our arrangement? “Okay,” I agreed, sleepily, wondering what in the world I was actually agreeing to.

• • •

Someone had stolen my brain and replaced it with a pile of goo. I couldn’t concentrate at work. I could barely form cohesive sentences. I’d dropped several petri dishes, spilled a specimen, and contaminated another sample I was working with. I’d consumed way too much wine for a Wednesday night and had woken up late and hung over. I’d gotten ready in a hurry, and as a result my hair was flat and dull and the dark circles under my eyes made me look like a zombie on crack. At lunch, I’d been so distracted, I’d picked at my food and dropped a huge glob of tuna salad on my shirt. Which led to me spending twenty minutes in the restroom trying to clean the stain, all while cursing myself out that I’d eaten smelly old tuna fish for lunch when I was supposed to see Braydon that night. I’d have to get home a little early to change my shirt and brush my teeth. Maybe touch up my makeup. And shave. Oh God, this was exactly why he wasn’t healthy for me. He sent my brain into overdrive. I hadn’t felt butterflies like this since I was in tenth grade and got felt up for the first time.

I’d replayed in my head what I would say to him a million times. Of course I’d refuse his offer. I was flattered, sure, but I couldn’t actually go through with it. I’d just have to make him understand. Braydon, though I’d known him only a short time, could be very persuasive. And that’s what scared me most. I couldn’t let myself get sucked into his world.

I fumbled with the dial on my microscope, cursing loudly when I couldn’t get the damn thing to cooperate.

“Are you okay?” my boss, Lydia, asked. She was looking at me with a concerned look, her wire-rimmed glasses balancing at the end of her nose. Lydia was a great boss. Smart as a whip, patient, and a great advocate for our department to receive the funding and training we needed to perform. I loved working for her. But we never discussed our personal lives. Ever. Aside from a simple “How was your weekend?” And I didn’t plan to start now. “You seem distracted today,” she said.

“I’m fine,” I lied. I focused on the task in front of me, hoping she’d let it drop.

“I’ve worked with you long enough to know when something’s wrong.” She removed her glasses and set them on the table beside her. Her brown eyes crinkled in the corners as she gave me a sympathetic smile. “You can talk to me, you know.”

I frowned and rubbed my forehead. I had a pounding headache from thinking about this arrangement with Braydon. “It’s nothing. Just guy problems.”

“Ah. I see.” She nodded, her eyes weary and wise, like she’d been around long enough to know all about such matters. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I inhaled deeply and released it slowly. “No. But thank you for the offer.” How did you tell your boss that a sexy male model wanted to become your . . . what did he call it again? Oh yeah, pleasure pal. No, I wouldn’t be explaining that to my boss. I wanted to keep my job, thank you very much.

She replaced her glasses and patted the back of my hand. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Elizabeth. You’re a very smart girl.” She was one of the only people who called me Elizabeth and not Ellie.

I smiled weakly. I didn’t feel so smart. I felt as if I was back in high school, complete with sweaty palms and a stomach full of nerves at the thought of the football captain wanting to ask me out. Scratch that. Braydon didn’t want to ask me to go steady. He just wanted me naked and ready in the backseat of his car.

Shit.

These thoughts weren’t helping me focus. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I had to help a friend with a leak in her apartment.” At least that part was true. Crap. Hopefully Braydon followed through on his promise to remove the soggy belongings and have the apartment aired out. Crappy friend that I was, I hadn’t thought about that again since last night.

Lydia nodded. “Okay. Well, if you need to leave a little early this afternoon—recharge your batteries—you be sure to do just that.”

“Thank you. I think I will.” Another reason why I loved my boss.

I thought getting home early would be a blessing. Instead it just meant I had more time to sit around worrying before Braydon was due. I felt caged up inside my apartment, so after cleaning every room thoroughly I decided to change into a sports bra, T-shirt, and shorts and go for a jog. I figured I’d still have time to shower and get ready before he arrived. Pushing my muscles into action, with loud music blaring in my ears, was exactly what I needed. I felt sluggish at first—too many indulgences last night—but soon found my rhythm and pounded out three miles. When I arrived back home, my head was slightly clearer. Maybe I could do this with Braydon. Give in to my body’s yearnings. Have a fun adventure. You only live once, right?

I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it and let the water beat down on me. I scrubbed myself thoroughly, shampooed and conditioned my hair, and shaved my legs for good measure. I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, refusing to primp for him. Refusing to pretend this was some type of date. He’d made it clear that we wouldn’t be dating.

When Braydon arrived promptly at seven, my heart jumped into my throat. I answered the door and found him standing there, dressed casually in jeans and an old band T-shirt. His style was cute. Relaxed and vintage. I liked it. A lot.

“Hi,” I said, pulling open the door wider.

“Hiya. Can I come in? I have Thai food.” He held up a brown paper sack. “Of course it occurred to me that you might not like Thai, but you seem like an adventurous girl, so I went with it.”

“Thai is fine. And please, come in.” I motioned him forward and led him into my tiny kitchen. After gathering plates, utensils, and drinks, we carried the whole lot to the small round table in my breakfast nook.

“Nice place,” he commented, looking around. I’d never officially given him a tour, but I was just trying to avoid that awkward moment when we ended up in my bedroom staring at the bed. I doubted I’d have a witty comeback when he suggested we christen it.

“Thank you. It’s cozy.”

Braydon opened each package and my stomach grumbled as I inhaled the mouthwatering aromas greeting me. There was roast duck, stir-fried vegetables in fragrant curry, sticky jasmine rice, and several different noodle dishes.

“Did you invite a hockey team over and forget to tell me?” I joked.

“I wanted to be sure I ordered something you would like.” He flashed those pretty blue eyes at me, and my skin heated. He was thoughtful. That did not help my case against him.

Thankfully, scooping heaps of food onto my plate provided a good distraction from his prettiness.

“So, what do you do?” he asked, taking his time to arrange his food artfully on his plate. Gosh, was he going to gift wrap it or eat it?

“I’m a microbiologist at a pharmaceutical firm downtown.”

“Shit, seriously? Did you go to school for that?” His mouth hung open, waiting for my answer.

“Yeah. I have a bachelor’s degree in biology and a master’s degree in microbiology.”

His eyes widened. “Damn, girl. So, what does a sexy-as-fuck microbiologist do all day?”

Me? Sexy? I was pretty sure I had curry sauce smeared on my chin. I wiped my mouth with a napkin before answering. “I look at tiny organisms under a microscope. It’s super exciting.” I rolled my eyes for effect. I actually quite enjoyed my job and the challenge of it, but it usually bored people when I went into detail, so I kept it light.

“Do you get to wear one of those white lab coats?”

“Yep. Sure do. I examine cell reproduction, run studies on diseases, watch how different bacteria react to stimuli. . . .”

“Mmm, smart girls are sexy.” He grinned again, flashing me his dimple that I was becoming a teeny bit obsessed with. I took another bite of roast duck to distract myself.

After dinner, Braydon insisted on helping me load the dishwasher, and then we sat down on the sofa side by side like two nervous teenagers. Actually, I was a nervous wreck, but he seemed calm, cool, and collected, kicking his feet up on the old trunk in front of my couch and throwing his arm across the back of the sofa. He hadn’t brought up anything the entire night about our arrangement. The entire reason he was here, I thought. Instead, he kept up a steady conversation, leaving me waiting in wonder, the anticipation growing more and more with each hour that passed. Seriously, I was not a patient person and the wait was eating me up inside. Was he going to try to make a move on me? Had he changed his mind? Was he still attracted to me? Maybe I should have dressed sexier, curled my hair. . . .

“So tell me more about this arrangement,” I asked finally, unable to wait any longer. Even if I was going to turn him down, something in me wanted to know what exactly he was proposing.

Braydon’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Are you ready to discuss that now, miss?”

I nodded slowly. Had he been waiting for me to bring it up the whole time? Was his silence on the topic meant to drive me crazy? Oh, he was good. He was damn good.

“What would you like to discuss?” he asked, his voice dropping lower as he turned to face me on the couch.

“How would it, um, work?” Ugh, why did I sound so breathless? I should tell him and his damn pleasure-pals arrangement to take a hike. But something in me couldn’t. I needed to see where this was headed. I had no self-control when it came to this man.

“However we want it to. I’d like to see you a few times a week. We could have a meal, like tonight, and then enjoy each other’s company.” Smooth of him. But I’m pretty sure he meant enjoy my vagina. I suppressed a hot shiver and continued watching him.

“But we wouldn’t be dating. There’d be no commitments.” My heart clenched as I said the words out loud. I waited for him to correct me, to smooth things over, but that didn’t happen.

“That’s right. No expectations of each other. What I’m proposing is that we give into our baser instincts. Let go of inhibitions and discover each other.”

I shook my head, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. I pulled in a deep breath and released it slowly. Inside my brain was an extreme game of Ping-Pong. I wanted this, yet I didn’t. I was so back and forth. I held up a hand, needing a moment to think. I’d sworn off men, right? “Excuse me, I’m just having a problem with your gender lately.”

He continued to watch me closely. “I know what you’re doing. You put up this front, you say that you don’t want a man. It’s only because no one’s been able to properly take care of you.”

“And you think you can?” His confidence was a huge turn-on.

“I know I can. And I will. You just have to let me. Submit to me.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him I was a strong, independent woman; that I didn’t submit to anyone. But the words lodged in my throat, refusing to budge. “I seriously don’t see what’s in this for me.”

“You have to feel this between us,” he whispered, his blue eyes shining with his desire.

I hadn’t felt a connection this deep with someone in a long time, maybe ever, but he couldn’t know that. I stayed quiet and Braydon lifted my hand from my lap, interlacing our fingers and stroking the inside of my palm with his fingertips in featherlight strokes. Every touch from him felt deliberate. I was quickly becoming addicted to every little thing he did. He made my heart flutter. Silly little organ. It didn’t know what was good for it.

I realized with perfect clarity that my body wanted this. Wanted to have a sexual adventure. And he was the perfect candidate to have a fling with. He was sexy and discreet. As far as I knew he hadn’t breathed a word of our little postwedding romp to Ben or Emmy. And he turned my body into a puddle of hormones. There was no denying that. If I were going to have an affair, why not do it with a man who knew what the hell he was doing?

He leaned closer, bringing one hand behind my neck and knotting his fingers in my hair. “You want me to kiss you again,” he said, as if it were a statement of fact. But the tenderness in his tone was unexpected and calmed me instantly. It was crazy how one minute he could rile me up with his talk of “discovering” each other, then turn me on just by touching my hand, then reel me into his world so completely that I couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink.

One thing was certain. I wanted more. I wanted to see where this could go. There was something magnetic about him. His charm. His personality. Shit, his tongue. That was surely illegal in like forty-nine states. I might as well take advantage.

My disappointing sexual experiences so far had a lot to do with my consideration of his proposal. The few boyfriends I’d had couldn’t have satisfied me if I’d drawn out a treasure map of my vagina with an X-marks-the-spot for my clitoris. Even when the sex had been decent, I’d always craved something more. A man who would take charge. Who knew instinctively what my body craved and gave it to me ruthlessly without me having to ask. I loved the idea of being manhandled a bit. Taken over. The idea alone made me wet.

My whole life was well ordered, from my daily jogs to my job that was actually an exact science, with rules and standardized processes to follow. No wonder I wanted a dirty, risqué adventure in the bedroom. My body battled with my brain. I shouldn’t want what Braydon was offering. Then again, I was missing both the emotional connection of a serious boyfriend and a satisfying sexual relationship in my life. I knew with Braydon I’d be 50 percent of the way there. Not bad odds.

“What other questions do you have in that head of yours, kitten?” He stroked the furrowed spot between my eyebrows with his thumb.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I’d never had a pleasure pal, so I was totally at a loss about what to ask next. “Wait.” I sat up straighter. “Will you be, like, dating other girls during this arrangement?”

“Hmm. Good question.” He set my hand down in my lap. “What do you think?”

I chewed on my lip. He was asking me? “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not dating anyone else right now, but . . .”

He shook his head, his eyes locking on mine. “Once I’ve been inside of you, you’re mine. No one else gets to touch you. Do you understand?” That was ridiculous. We weren’t dating and he wanted to lay claim to me like some dominant alpha male? I was a confident, successful woman. I didn’t play games. So why was my head nodding in agreement to his absurd proposition?

A slow, easy smile spread across his mouth. “That’s a good girl, kitten. I promise I’ll take care of you.” He pushed my hair back from my face and watched my eyes. He reached for my cell phone and programmed his number in, then called his phone. Smooth.

“If I can’t have anyone else inside me, as you so eloquently put it, then neither can you.”

His eyes danced on mine. “No problem. If anyone tried to put something inside me, I’d break their fucking jaw.”

“Braydon!” I slapped his shoulder playfully. “I mean you’ve got to keep it in your pants, mister. No other girls.”

His mouth twitched in a smile. “I have quite a sexual appetite, lovely. Are you sure you can handle me?”

I bit my lip and nodded, heat crawling up my chest.

“I don’t want to create an imposition for you.” His hand circled my hip, his large fingers reaching all the way to my spine.

My nipples instantly hardened as my body responded to his nearness and his scent. A mixture of spicy cologne and clean soap. I wasn’t sure what would happen next, but Braydon, ever the gentleman, rose from the couch. “You’re tired. I should probably go.”

“Oh.” I stood too quickly and suddenly felt light-headed again. His hand on my elbow steadied me.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“You’re leaving?”

His features softened as he gazed down at me. “I can read the indecision all over you. Your body wants this. Your brain isn’t sure.” He already understood me so well, it was impossible to argue. He leaned closer, his lips brushing my neck. “And when I fuck you for the first time, I want you to be certain. I want there to be no questions in your mind. I want you begging me to penetrate you. I want your hand guiding me inside you.” He pulled back to measure my reaction.

My knees trembled as I reached out to grip his bicep for support. Bad idea. The warm, solid muscle under my hand made me question everything. Should I invite him to stay? See where things went? I chewed on my bottom lip, the words on the tip of my tongue. But he was right . . . I was hesitating, not quite brave enough to take what I wanted. Stupid brain.

His mouth captured mine in a hungry kiss, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip, and when my mouth parted, his tongue stroked mine hypnotically.

Pushing his hips toward mine, he succeeded in aligning our bodies from chest to thigh. I could feel the way his tense erection strained against his jeans, and, all too aware that he’d touched me but I hadn’t yet touched him, I reached out to rub the front of his pants. I wanted to feel him and his manhood. His hand caught my wrist and lifted it away from the front of his jeans. Pressing a kiss against my wrist, he shook his head. “Greedy little girl.”

I swallowed roughly, needing to make light of my wanton behavior. “There’s nothing worse than popping the hood and finding inadequate equipment underneath.” I dared a peek down at his crotch, unable to hide my smirk.

“I think you’ll be more than satisfied with my equipment, miss.”

“Then let me see.” I rubbed against him again, loving the steely feel of his warm length encased in denim.

He shook his head. “You will. But not tonight. How about I just taste you instead? I want to lick your pussy again,” he whispered.

My fingers reflexively tightened around his arm. How could I say no to that? My head gave a little nod and he quickly led me to my bedroom.

When we reached the darkened room, his fingers laced between mine again, the move possessive and intimate. I liked it way too much. We kissed for several minutes, standing in the center of my bedroom until I felt Braydon’s fingers find the button on my jeans. I wouldn’t stop him now. Couldn’t. My body wanted this.

Pushing my jeans and panties down from my hips, Braydon suddenly lifted me, tossing me onto my mattress. His strength was unexpected, and I let out a small squeak when I hit the bed.

Grinning his impish little grin, that sexy dimple taunting me so adorably, he leaned down and kissed my navel. “This okay, baby?” his breath whispered across my belly.

I nodded, unable to speak. I watched him through lowered lashes. He really was perfect. I could stare at him for hours.

He removed my shirt, sitting back on his heels to admire me briefly. Then he kissed the top of my pubic bone, taking his time to worship me properly by laying tender kisses all along the top of my sex. In my memories from the wedding, he had proven he was beyond talented at this. I squirmed against the bed, wanting his mouth lower. Wanting to feel his tongue slide against me, but unsure of how to ask for what I needed. Braydon didn’t make me ask. He continued his descent, pushing my thighs apart and out of the way as he lowered his mouth to taste me. I drew in a sharp inhale when his tongue made contact, lazily circling my clit.

“You like that, kitten?” he whispered softly against my core.

I let out a ragged breath, whimpering from the loss of contact. “Y-yes . . .”

Chuckling softly at my response, he kissed me again. He read my body’s signals, using his whole mouth, his tongue, his lips, to kiss me greedily right where I needed him. He adjusted his style to my moans, flicking his tongue ruthlessly against me, increasing his rhythm as my breathy pants increased in volume. I wasn’t shy about letting him know what I liked. What I needed. With other guys, I overthought everything. I worried about my appearance, my scent, if my apartment was clean, if I’d shaved. I wondered if he’d want to stay over and if I had breakfast food in the house to make him something in the morning that would impress him—the list went on. With Braydon, I stayed in the moment. He made me feel comfortable enough that none of the superficial bullshit mattered. It was refreshing.

His long index finger penetrated me and my back arched off the bed at the invasion. God, that felt incredible. His tongue continued its lazy strokes while his finger curled toward my inside wall and lightly rubbed. The pleasure was like nothing else. His skill was too much. My whole world came undone. I pushed my fingers into his hair and tugged him closer, shamelessly rocking my hips as I came.

Dizzy and disoriented, I became aware of Braydon pulling the comforter up around me and tucking me into bed. “Good night, gorgeous. Get some sleep.”

Once again he didn’t expect anything in return. I would have felt bad if I could have moved just then. But I wouldn’t have been much use to him in that moment. I was warm and sleepy and incredibly relaxed, so I just nodded.

He pressed a soft kiss to my mouth. “Do you need to lock up behind me?”

“Yes, please.” Oops. I’d forgotten about that. I crawled from the bed and accepted his proffered hand, letting him guide me to the front door.

“Everything okay, kitten?”

“Yes, tonight was . . . interesting.”

He smiled his crooked grin that made my heart kick up a notch. “Interesting good or interesting bad?”

“Good, I think.”

He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the tops of my fingers, his eyes on mine. “It will be. I promise.” His words sent a rush through me. “Night. Sleep well.”

“Night,” I whispered back.

The door closed behind him and I slid to the floor in a boneless heap.

Fuck. I was already in over my head.