“You busy?”
“No, why?” I sit up and try to push the towel back up on my head. It falls over, my wet hair smashing the side of my face.
“You’re out of breath.”
“I just got out of the shower.”
He chuckles. “I thought my cock was getting hard for a reason.”
“You’re so stupid,” I laugh.
“That’s not what you said the last time my cock was hard.”
“No, I believe I told you to slide it inside my wet—”
“Brynne . . .”
“What?” I grin.
“Don’t talk like that if I’m not there.”
“Why? I’m simply reliving a memory.”
He snorts, knowing I’m doing way more than reliving a memory. I’m winding him up, listening to him respond to me. It’s something I’ll never tire of, a methamphetamine that I’m addicted to.
“Did you have a good day?” he asks, changing the subject.
“No. My day has been absolutely horrible.”
“Why’s that?”
Taking a deep breath, I consider not telling him. But if I’m going to find out if he wants to even try things with me with my life how it is, then I may as well be honest. “We received a video today of my brother.” The words sound like they’re coming from someone else. “It was awful. They hit him with a gun . . . My mom had to go to the doctor for sedatives to keep her from losing her mind. My father is trying to get a ticket to Africa.”
“He shouldn’t do that.”
“That’s your response?” I pull my brows together. “I tell you all that and you say my dad shouldn’t go?”
He, too, blows out a breath. “I’m just saying he shouldn’t make the situation worse. What will he do there? He needs to stay put and be with you and your mother and let the experts find your brother.”
“I agree. But we’ll see what happens. It’s been hard to have a lot of faith in the so-called experts.”
A long stretch of silence descends on us and I can only hear his breathing. I wonder where he is and what he’s doing and what he’s thinking—but I don’t ask. I wait for him to make the next move.
“Can I see you tonight?” he asks finally, his voice low. “I know you’ve had a shitty day and I’m sorry for that. But let me try to help you. Let me hold you.”
I settle back on my bed and look at the ceiling. Being in his arms is the best medicine I can think of, but I can’t just let this situation be skirted over. I have to remember why I didn’t see him last night and stay true to myself. Stay strong. “Honestly, Fenton. I have a lot of questions.”
“I’m sure you do.”
I can hear the indignation in his exhale. He doesn’t want to answer my questions or give me an explanation, and that takes my frustration up a couple four notches.
“I know you want to know the odds of you and Grant showing up at Pano.”
“Yes. That would be a good start. And also why you bothered to arrange that . . . however you arranged that.”
“I get it. There’s a list.”
“Of course there’s a list. And I need some transparency here. This thing between us started off as a weekend getaway and the weekend is over—not even mentioning because you cut it short—and you’re still calling me and interfering in my life.”
“Interfering? Is that what you think I was doing?”
“Yes,” I sigh. “Kind of. It all depends on why you did it.”
Giving him a chance to interject, to come forward and volunteer the information, I pause. But it doesn’t happen. I suck in a hasty breath and get ready to play hardball because as sinful as he is and as much as I really, really want to be with him again, I’m not going to be bowled over by anyone.
“Why does it matter?” he asks.
I pop myself up on my elbows. “It doesn’t unless you want to see me again. If you’re just a rebound—”
“A what?”
“A rebound. If you and I are just fuck buddies, then I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“I loathe that term, Brynne,” he bites out.
“Loathe it all you want. It’s the truth,” I say, holding on to my courage as tightly as I can. “I’m just telling you . . . I’m telling you that I really enjoy being with you. And that you have the power to flip me all around. When I went to Vegas, it was to make a fresh break from my life before, to get a new baseline, and have some fun. Easy peasy. But you’re so easy to be around that it makes it completely not easy.”
I pause, feeling my way through this. The feeling of vulnerability makes my stomach weak, a feeling I dislike more than many others. But I am vulnerable to him, and if this has any potential of going anywhere, he needs to at least realize that and decide if he wants that responsibility.
“I don’t know how to process you ensuring I see Grant at your restaurant, Fent. How am I supposed to read that? You tell me you can’t see me and then you go off and make it so I don’t see anyone else without you there. That’s not fair.”
“Brynne, there was a reason for that.”
“Then tell me!”
“I will. See me.”
Lying back on my bed, I take a deep breath and hold it before letting it trickle out of my lungs a wisp at a time.
“I know what you’re saying,” he voices. “I realize how confused you might be.”
“Might be?”
“Brynne . . .” he sighs. “I want to give you answers. But I don’t want to do it over the phone.”
“I’m sure you don’t. You can pick me up and take me somewhere and use that damn cashmere voice and sexy smirk and have my pants off in two seconds flat. Not happening.”
He pauses. “If I have my way, it won’t take two seconds.”
“Fenton . . .”
“What if I promise you I won’t?”
“You won’t what?”
“I won’t fuck you . . . first.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles in my throat. “Fuck me first? Like it’s a guarantee?”
“Let’s be real. If we’re together, we’re gonna fuck. You made me promise that, remember?” he teases.
I could argue with him and pretend to be Superwoman and have some sort of feminine resistance to his charms, but it’d be a lie and we both know it.
“Just let me pick you up. We’ll talk and you can ask whatever you want,” he says in a tone I haven’t heard from him before. It’s a touch shaky, a little nervous. “And then we’ll fuck.”
“You promise to answer everything?”
After a brief delay, he says, “Yes.”
“You promise to make me come on your face?”
“Oh, rudo, I promise to make you come any way you’d like.”
I catch my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are pink, a wide smile on my face. This is what Presley was talking about and she’s right—there’s no sense in not being happy if I can be. Being miserable isn’t going to help anything.
Pulling my towel completely off my shoulders, my hair doesn’t look too bad for not brushing it out right after my shower. “I can be ready in an hour.”
“I’ll be there.”
“See you soon.”
I hold up a yellow blouse and look into the mirror. I’m all over the place, unable to make a simple choice about what to wear.
My phone sits in front of me on the dresser, right where I left it after talking to my mother. She sounded eerily calm, sort of sleepy. She said they were suing Mandla and that my father had lost his passport so he couldn’t go to Africa until he got it replaced and he was pissed about it. I’m not sure how much of that is true and how much is the result of her medication.
A part of me feels guilty for looking forward to seeing Fenton and not being with my parents. But what good would it really do? And my mother’s sister came into town and is staying with them, so that helps ease my burden.
“Screw it.” I start to pull the hem of my red silk camisole over my head when the door to my room swings ope
n and slams shut, rattling the picture on the wall. Spinning in a circle, I see Presley standing with her back pressed against the door. My typically unshakable best friend has eyes the size of saucers.
“My God, Brynnie,” she breathes, her hand slapping against her chest in an over-the-top fashion. “He. Is. Fucking. Gorgeous.”
“I know. Did you get close enough to smell him?”
“Lord no! If I’d gotten that close, I’m afraid I would’ve just started licking him like a popsicle. I know he’s yours and I’m not that kind of girl,” she flashes me her heart tattoo that matches mine, “But you’d have to have forgiven me because—have you fucking seen him?”
Laughing, I turn back to the mirror. The camisole with skinny jeans and heels will have to do. I run a hand over my hair to smooth a fly-away as I turn back to her. “Of course I’ve seen him. With and without clothes, and I’ll be honest, I don’t know which one I prefer.”
“I saw him before. The workout pants at the grocery was one thing, but he’s in a fucking suit and it’s a completely different level now. He’s not just lickable, he’s edible.” She side-eyes me. “If I’d seen him like that first, I’d have fought you for him.”
“You have no idea,” I tease, grabbing my purse off the bed. “The things that man can do . . .”
“You’ve been holding out,” she says, stepping away from the door. “I know there are details I haven’t gotten, and I’m going to demand every single one of them when you get back. If I can’t have him, I want the fantasy, and I’m not even sorry I’m fantasizing about your man.”
“He’s not my man.” I cringe as the words float from my lips because it’s true. He’s not. Part of me wants to declare him mine anyway, but there’s the other, stupid, logical half that reminds me I have questions that haven’t been answered.
And he hasn’t exactly said he wants the job.
“No, but once your vagina touched him, he’s off limits.”
I look at her in disbelief. “You never fail to just astound me with your brilliant language.”
She pats me on the shoulder. “If I needed a job, I would’ve been a reporter. With these babies,” she lifts her boobs up with her hands, “They would’ve put me on TV.”
“If you didn’t actually talk first,” I laugh, pulling the door open. Fenton’s cologne hits me right away. I stutter-step, inhaling a lungful of the eau de male. Presley comes up beside me and does the very same thing.
We stand there, taking whiffs of the air like two bloodhounds looking for the target. We both breathe in at the same time and burst into a fit of giggles.
“We’re ridiculous,” I say.
“It’s only natural considering.”
“No, it’s probably a mistake,” I wince, considering his possible answers and knowing I might have to walk away.
“Hey,” Presley says, a gleam in her eye. “I never make the same mistake twice unless he’s super hot. And Fenton’s beyond that.”
“What am I gonna do with you, Pres?”
She winks. “I know I told you to go be a badass and force him to answer you, but if you forget because you’re wound around him like tinsel, I’ll forgive you. I mean, fuck.”
I want to laugh, to play along, but her words sparked the flame of uncertainty that’s been smoldering all day. It builds, growing hotter and hotter, and I say a little prayer that I can keep myself together.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Pres says.
“No, you’re fine.” I start down the hallway, my friend at my side.
“I just start talking when I get nervous.”
“I know you do.”
“Brynnie,” she says, touching my shoulder so I stop a few feet away from the corner. I turn, taking in her newly sobered expression. “Don’t let that sexy bastard dazzle you. I know he was your reset button, but I haven’t seen you this lively in a long time and I like it. But I only like it if he’s the real deal.”
“That’s yet to be seen.”
“Exactly. So if he’s not, you just say ‘Fuck you very much,’ call me, and I’ll come get you. Because there are more fish in the sea. Maybe they won’t be that good looking because, I mean, you know . . .” she laughs. “But they’ll be great.”
“Shut up, Pres.” I return her laugh and we round the corner.
He’s standing in the entranceway.
Just as Presley said, he’s wearing a black suit and a silver tie. He draws his gaze over every curve of my body unabashedly. The heaviness of his inspection burns my skin as he rolls over every inch.
Presley clears her throat, and Fenton and I both look at her. “I hope you guys have a good night.”
“Thank you. We intend to,” Fenton says politely.
She looks at me and grins mischievously before turning back to him. “Cashmere, I’m going to be honest with you.”
Fenton looks at me and quirks a brow and I just shrug, stifling a laugh.
“I think you and Brynne would make beautiful children.”
“Presley! What are you doing?” I exclaim.
“Hush, Brynnie. Let me get this out so you can go be dazzled,” she laughs. “You are dazzling,” she tells him. “But so is she. She’s the smartest, kindest, sweetest person in the entire world and she deserves the best. So behind that dapper exterior, if you have anything but the best intentions, just walk away and don’t hurt her. Because whether you have a magic cock or not, I will remove it from your body.”
She tosses him a smile, blows me a kiss, and leaves us standing in the foyer.
“I’m sorry,” I groan, taking his hand. “She’s crazy.”
“I think I like her,” he grins. “She said I’m dazzling and I have a magic cock, even if she did threaten to chop it off.”
He leans forward and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. “Damn, baby.”
I roll my eyes to distract him from the heating of my cheeks. “What kind of a greeting is that?”
“One from a man that can’t form words because of the beauty standing in front of him.”
My face aches from grinning. He steps to me and presses a lingering kiss to my cheek. “You ready?” he breathes into my ear.
“Yes.”
His hand locking around mine, he ushers me out of the house and to his car. He opens the door and waits as I get settled and then closes it behind me. He’s around to the driver’s side in a flash.
The sky is warm with a wash of colors—oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun begins to set in the evening sky. Fenton climbs in and maneuvers the car onto the road, clicking off the radio and resting his hand on my leg. Without thinking, my body sinks to my left and towards him. It’s an instinct, an automatic response to his touch that I couldn’t fight if I wanted to. And I don’t. I love feeling the way he makes me feel, and I’m going to eat it up as long as I can.
“Where are we going?” I finally ask, breaking the comfortable silence.
“You want to talk first right?”
“Talk before fuck. Yes.”
He shakes his head. “Your language, Brynne.”
“I’ve been around Presley too long,” I laugh.
He removes his hand and I want to pick it back up and place it back on my thigh. I miss the warmth, the weight, the feeling of being irresistible right away.
“I don’t really want to bring this up, but I have to ask . . . how are you? How are your parents?” He glances at me through the corner of his eye.
I shrug. “Bad. My mom is heavily medicated, my father is trying not to break down, I think. My aunt is there helping them. I just . . . I feel like I should be too.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“What good would it do? We don’t know when this will end,” I gulp. “I have to work, go to school. I know a lot of people would just stop everything and hole up together, but that’s just going to make it worse, you know? Besides,” I sigh, “Brady would want things to go on as normally as possible.”
Fenton chews on his bottom lip, working it
over between his teeth before responding. “Yes, you’re right. Just know if I can take you there or help you in any way, you only have to ask.”
“The only way you can help me tonight is by taking my mind off of it, okay?” I glance out the window. “You didn’t tell me where we’re going.”
“I’m taking you to Ruma,” he informs me, a grit to his voice.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like taking me there is painful.”
Running my hands down my jeans, I wonder if I’m not dressed up enough for what he was expecting. I start to ask him to turn around so I can change when he speaks again.
“Taking you anywhere besides my bed is going to be painful. Do you have any idea how hard my cock has been since we got back from Vegas?”
“That must suck,” I say smugly. I watch the trees fly by instead of looking at him. I don’t want him to see how he affects me.
His hand drops back into my lap, straight on the base of my zipper. It’s like being hit with a bolt of energy, like getting zapped from an unruly light socket. My pelvis tilts just enough to increase the contact, and when he chuckles, the electrocution via man candy turns up ten degrees.
Oh, but what a way to go.
“Cute, Brynne,” he scoffs.
“What?” I moan as his hand slips under me and his thumb presses against the apex of my thighs. I bite my lip, trying to stay focused on his words and not his touch.
“Your little tough girl persona is adorable. Unbelievable, but adorable.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about—ah!”
He draws a circle with the pad of his thumb, a slow, torturous motion that has me falling back in my seat, dragging in hasty breaths, my eyes rolling back in my head.
“Don’t try to play coy with me, like you weren’t getting yourself off thinking about me.”
I don’t bother to dispute it.
“The thought of you coming without me irks the fuck out of me,” he continues. “But I’d rather it be without me than with someone else.”
Just as the shiver rolls through my core and to my shoulders, his hand is gone.
“Hey!” I protest, sitting up and looking at his brash smile. “Why’d you stop?”
Wherever It Leads Page 20
