The Vault Box Set

by Eden Summers

  She was quiet, deathly silent.

  He glanced from the corner of his eye to find confusion staring back at him. He didn’t know if he’d spoken aloud or if the mantra in his head had grown in strength.

  She didn’t acknowledge him. She probably didn’t know what he was talking about because all the things she’d said were a figment of his imagination.

  Fuck.

  “Ella?” He straightened and told his insecurities to fuck off. “I feel the same way.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Pamela held herself in check.

  Bryan was drunk and on emotional life-support, making her blurted confession a disaster waiting to happen.

  “It’s your turn to say something,” he whispered.

  Her lips quirked, the burn of tears returning to her eyes. “I’m still trying to digest what you said.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re confused—”

  “About the way I feel?” He spoke with vehemence. “No shit. I’ve spent the weeks trying to figure it out, and it still doesn’t make sense.”

  All her needy insecurities latched on with energetic force. “You’ve been thinking about me for weeks?”

  “You sound pleased to know I haven’t had a lick of sleep since I last saw you.” He bridged the gap between them, the tips of his shoes nudging hers. “And people think I’m the brutal one.”

  This time her smile flourished, spreading across her face in unmanageable enthusiasm. “You’re not brutal.”

  “Don’t go ruining my reputation, sweetheart.” He backed her into the counter, his hips rocking into hers. “You’ve done enough to me already.”

  His strength seeped into her, calming the frazzled nerves and heartache. She wanted to fall deeper into him, to sink, to drown. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

  “Can we put this on hold for a while?”

  He slid his hands into hers, entwining their fingers against her thighs. “You still think this is a reaction to grief?”

  She nodded. “A little.”

  “That’s okay.” He grinned, surprising her with the impressive display. “I still think it’s a drunken hallucination.”

  He pressed his lips to hers, stealing away the negative thoughts with his patented kissing style. He licked her thoroughly, patiently, their tongues sparring and dancing. She ran her hands along the lapels of his suit, holding him close, but a distant sound disturbed her concentration, the murmurs of conversation building with every second.

  Bryan broke the kiss to glare over her shoulder. “Your cavalry has arrived.”

  She frowned and turned to find Leo, T.J., Cassie, and Shay striding into the main room, only to freeze in place, one after the other.

  “Whoa.” T.J. shot a glance at his wife. “This isn’t what I expected to find.”

  “What did you expect?” Bryan caged Pamela in place from behind, one hand on the counter at either side of her hips.

  “I, umm…” Cassie blushed. “I thought it was a good idea to do a welfare check. Things were tense earlier.”

  “We’re okay.” Pamela straightened, keeping the heat of Bryan tight at her back. “Everything is fine.”

  Cassie nodded while Shay crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Cue the questions,” Bryan muttered in her ear.

  “Is your mom okay?” Shay asked. “Apparently, you told Pamela she was sick.”

  “Shay,” Cassie hissed. “That was private.”

  Shit. Bryan remained quiet, his warmth turning to icy steel.

  “I’m sorry.” She turned in his arms. “I mentioned it to Cassie earlier. I assumed they already knew.” She held her breath, waiting for his anger.

  “Don’t worry.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Shay snoops like a P.I. She would’ve found out sooner or later.”

  His easy acceptance only compiled her guilt. It also made her want to kiss the breath from his lungs.

  “Is she okay?” Leo asked.

  Bryan kept his focus on her, not acknowledging his friends as he announced, “She’s dead.”

  She didn’t wince. Didn’t flinch. She began to think the brutal replies were the only way he knew how to respond. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, or something he’d been taught since childhood from his heartless parents.

  “Oh, shit.” T.J.’s voice sounded over the numerous gasps. “What happened?”

  Bryan’s composure fractured, his forehead creasing with deep wrinkles.

  “It’s okay.” She could be his strength. At least, she wanted to be if he’d allow her. “Let me take care of it.” She faced his friends with a sad smile. “She lost her battle with cancer at the end of April.”

  “April?” Shay accused. “She died last month and you couldn’t tell us?”

  Pamela flinched, her blood boiling over the insensitive reaction.

  “Let her go,” Bryan mumbled in her ear, his arm weaving around her waist. “I get too much satisfaction watching her make an ass of herself.”

  “Brute?” Shay snapped. “What the hell?”

  “You’ve gotta admit, this is unfair,” Leo added. “We’ve given you space for weeks, letting you dump the workload on our shoulders. I don’t doubt you needed time, but you could’ve told us before today. We had no idea what was going on.”

  Bryan began playing with her hair, acting as though the heated conversation was a casual chit-chat. “This pretty little lady was the cause of my issues. Not my mother.”

  “Me?” She peered over her shoulder. “Why?”

  “I told you—you were messing with my head. I couldn’t concentrate. I had to bow out of dealing with customers because my public relation skills became less than stellar.”

  “They’ve never been anything to write home about,” Shay muttered.

  He smirked, the expression quickly fading. “I didn’t find out about my mother until today.”

  “Oh, shit.” Leo palmed his stubbled jaw. “Who the fuck does that?”

  “My family,” Bryan offered. “But on the bright side—one down, one to go.”

  They all cringed.

  Leo held up his hands in warning. “Don’t say shit like that. You’re gonna go to hell.”

  “At least my family will be there to greet me, right?”

  “Bryan…” Her plea whispered between them. She couldn’t handle his detachment anymore. It wasn’t healthy. She needed them to be alone so she could comfort him the way women do—with affection and understanding and love. Not the careless back and forth between friends.

  Cassie met her gaze, her eyes questioning. “We should go back upstairs…”

  “Yes. Please,” she mouthed, appreciating the woman’s intuition. “Thank you.”

  “Good idea. We’ll give you two a few more minutes alone.” T.J. placed a hand on his wife’s hip and guided her toward the exit. “If you need anything…”

  “I’m good.” Bryan’s lie was convincing. If only she didn’t know better.

  “Yeah.” Leo nodded. “We’re here, buddy. Just say the word.”

  The four of them filed through the entry to the newbie lounge, their footsteps fading until the deafening click of a door latch sealed her fate.

  The room remained silent, the emptiness closing in on her as Bryan’s heartbeat echoed into her back. She sensed he wouldn’t fill the void. At least not with honesty or emotion. If she left the conversation up to him, she was certain there’d be more dark humor to mask his feelings. She craved his trust and wished he would open up to her. Even if just a little.

  “You joke about things that upset you.”

  He nestled his forehead into her hair. “It’s what I do.”

  “If you talk it out, it might get better.” She stared across the room, knowing he’d loathe her suggestion.

  “I prefer my way. It works for me.” A way that kept his heartbreak hidden and slowly building. God forbid he ruined his reputation. “For now,” he added. “Who knows what girly things you’ll talk me into if we start spending mor
e time together.”

  “Is that what you want?” She turned, becoming ensnared in the emotional depth of his eyes. There was no more dark or callous banter. He was bare, vulnerable, and oh, so beautiful. “The time together, not the girly part.”

  “That’s what comes next, right? I’ve never done this before.”

  “That’s not what I asked. I want to know what you want.”

  One side of his lips gradually kicked, his smirk building as he pressed his hips harder into hers. “In that case, I think we both know the answer.”

  “Bryan.” She struggled not to laugh. “I’m serious.”

  He stared at her mouth, his thumb lifting to trace her lower lip with feather-light pressure. “You still want to wait?”

  “That depends…”

  His gaze snapped to hers. “On?”

  “On whether you want me to feel secure in what’s going on between us. The physical part has been easy. Why don’t we give ourselves time to work on everything else?”

  “You’re trying to appeal to logic over my libido?” He clucked his tongue. “Stupid move, sweetheart.”

  It wasn’t stupid. She wanted him to be of sound mind the next time they slept together. For her sake, and his. Regret was the last thing either one of them needed if he woke up tomorrow and decided he’d made a mistake. “I just thought waiting would be best.”

  He ignored her and leaned in to trek his lips along her jaw, to her neck, then the sensitive spot below her ear.

  Alcohol. Bereavement. Heartache. She reminded herself of the aspects shaping his decisions.

  She shouldn’t encourage his heavenly seduction. Not when he was finally where he was supposed to be. She should hold out, for her heart’s sake. For one more day. At least until morning.

  “Tomorrow, you’ll have more clarity. More stability.” She sighed as his mouth found her collarbone, the rough scrape of beard adding a touch of friction to the exquisite softness of his kisses.

  “Right.”

  His thigh parted hers, the rub against the crotch of her pants grazing her clit. Tingles spread through her abdomen, the tendrils of pleasure creeping higher and higher. Slowly, her brain switched gears, sliding commonsense to the sideline and yanking gratification to the forefront. She needed more touches, more kisses, more endorphins.

  He pulsed his leg between hers, taunting her pussy. “More security?”

  “Mmm hmm.” She closed her eyes and whimpered. Hope was lost. Not one single part of her body wanted to be apart from this man. Not one finger. Not one nerve.

  Rational thought became suffocated by lust.

  They could work out the important stuff tomorrow.

  After.

  “I guess I’ve been wrong before.” Christ, she was such an easy mark. Such a groupie.

  He didn’t acknowledge her surrender, only continued the delicious trail of his mouth. She undid the top button of her shirt, then the next, exposing her cleavage to his mercy.

  “I’ve dreamed about these.” He slid his hand into the cup of her bra and brushed her nipple between his fingers. “My imagination didn’t do them justice.”

  He kissed her sternum, the curve of her breast, then yanked at her bra to suck her nipple into his mouth. Wildfire flickered to life under her ribs. Passion collided with happiness.

  For one tiny moment, everything was perfect. They were synced—movements, heartbeats, intensity. Mind, body, soul.

  He paid homage to her breasts. His thigh teased her pussy. Every nerve tingled under his mastery. She could almost come like this, from friction and suction.

  “We better get going.” He straightened and stepped back, his lust seeming to vanish in an instant while she spun from the stronghold. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Excuse me?” She licked her drying lips as he grabbed the bottle of scotch and placed it in a cupboard under the bar. “What just happened?”

  “You don’t want to have sex. So, let’s go.”

  “But…” How did he jump from the sizzling depths of carnality, to the freezing icecaps of chastity? “What? Why?”

  “Your rules.”

  “Wow.” Her mouth gaped. “You’re horrible.”

  A picture-perfect grin beamed back at her. “Just in control for now.”

  “For now?”

  “Yep. It doesn’t always happen around you.” He fastened her shirt buttons, the composed action a physical brag about his discipline. “Did you really think I’d risk all that stability and clarity you were mumbling about?”

  “Then why start?”

  “I’m not a priest.” He winked. “You might dictate the rules, but I know how to play the game.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her forward.

  “That’s a really nasty thing to do.” Her panties were damp. Her breasts screamed for more. “I don’t want to forgive you.”

  “I’m drunk and emotional, remember? Go easy on me.”

  “You’re drunk, emotional, and soon to be neutered if you don’t quit dragging me around.”

  “Neutering me would mean coming in close contact with my dick, and that’s off limits. You can’t break your own rules.” He kept tugging, leading her around the bar toward the cement staircase leading to the Shot of Sin parking lot. “And besides, you like holding my hand.”

  “I can’t believe you played me.” She glared through an unwanted smile. “This isn’t fair.”

  But it was. For once, everything seemed fair, and honest, and fun. Breathing him in, feeling his strength, knowing he cared—the happiness of it was overwhelming.

  He paused at the foot of the staircase, the atmosphere changing as he focused into the darkness ahead. “Ella?”

  His ominous tone killed her playful heartbeat. “Yeah?”

  He shot her a glance over his shoulder, his features tight. “I can’t promise I won’t fuck this up.”

  Her heart swelled, the rush of blood struggling to get through. “I know.”

  He gave a sharp nod and continued forward, his fingers gently squeezing hers.

  “Bryan?”

  “Mmm?” He kept walking, bringing them to the top of the staircase and the door leading outside.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled her head into his neck. “I can’t promise I’ll walk away the next time you ask me to.”

  “I can handle that.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I mean it. I’ll put all those other sex hounds to shame.”

  He laughed and pushed opened the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m serious.” She followed him into the dwindling daylight. “If you ever break up with me, I’ll stalk you.”

  His snicker was awkward.

  “And if you leave me, I’ll slash your tires.” She swung their joined hands with delight. “After all this time, destiny has finally brought us together.” She grinned as he slowed his stride, his posture stiffening. “Do you think it’s time to start discussing matching tattoos?”

  He stopped, his gaze taking long seconds to meet hers. He scanned her face, searching her expression.

  “What’s wrong?” She blinked up at him. “Are you scared of needles?”

  His eyes narrowed, and he yanked her into his chest. “You’re playing games with me?”

  “Maybe.” She chuckled. “You started it.”

  “I’ll finish it, too.” He pinned her hands behind her back and smashed his mouth to hers, punishing her with bliss.

  She wiggled, not wanting to succumb a second time. “Don’t start this again.”

  “I won’t.” He stared down at her, his gaze raking over her eyes, her nose, her lips. Each feature was treated to the same visual affection. “I think I changed my mind.”

  “About?” She gave his gorgeous face the same tender inspection, taking in the kindness of those deep blue eyes and the dark tempting lips.

  “I’m not going to fuck this up, Ella.”

  “You know what, Bryan?” Her heart swelled again, pumping tingl
ing blood through every inch of her, filling her with confidence. “I believe you.”

  Epilogue

  Pamela slid her bare thighs onto the bar stool, feigning relaxation even though the sensation was illusive. Whimpers and groans filled her ears, along with murmured chatter, soft laughter, and the occasional clink of a glass as Vault patrons socialized around her.

  “I didn’t expect to see you down here.” Shay retrieved a tall glass from the clean rack. “Tequila sunrise?”

  “Yes, please.” On second thought… “Make that a double.”

  Shay eyed her with suspicion. “Nervous to be back?”

  “I’m not sure.” She hadn’t stepped foot inside the sex club in months. Not since the night she’d vowed never to return.

  Life was different now. Everything was different. And knowing what to expect once she walked down the dimly lit Vault staircase had become an elaborate guessing game.

  “Bryan told me the two of you stopped dating.” Shay continued her scrutiny as she pulled a bottle of orange juice from the fridge under the counter.

  “He did?”

  “I didn’t get the details. He only said the first date failed with fucking brilliant efficiency, and he wouldn’t be doing it again.”

  Pamela winced at the memory. Their meal at an exclusive restaurant had been a nightmare of awkwardness. “We didn’t even make it through dinner.”

  “Was it that bad?”

  “Yeah, it was.” She could’ve enjoyed his monumental discomfort and considered it a sweet serve of karma, but she hadn’t. He’d fumbled with the cutlery, guzzled the wine, and hadn’t taken a bite of any of the extremely expensive meals. “He’s not the dating type.”

  Shay slid the tequila sunrise across the bar but continued to grip the glass. “I gather things ended amicably if he reinstated your membership.” She continued holding the alcohol hostage. “But if you being here is some form of retribution, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I don’t want any drama on his first night back.”

  “Drama? I’m not here to—”

  “I like you.” Shay lowered her voice, shooting a conspiratorial look over Pamela’s shoulder as she released the glass. “Please don’t make me kick you out.”