No, I hadn’t. But I also hadn’t been married.
“Jocelyn . . .” Braden sighed, and I lifted my eyes to see his expression was like granite. “I would have told you about Analise eventually.”
I waved him off. “It’s none of my business.”
“If that’s the case, why do you look shell-shocked?”
“Because I’m surprised. I got into this with you because you were a serial dater. Not a one-woman kind of guy.” I touched a hand to my chest. What the hell was that pain in there?
He ran a hand through his hair and then sighed heavily again. The next thing I knew, he had hooked a leg around my chair leg and was pulling me toward him, until our shoulders were almost brushing.
I stared up at him questioningly, lost for a moment in his beautiful eyes.
“I got married when I was twenty-two,” he began softly, quietly, his eyes studying me as he explained. “Her name was Analise. She was an Australian post-grad student. We’d only been together a year before I proposed, and we were only married for two. The first nine months were great. The next three months rocky. The last year hell. We fought a lot. Mostly about my inability to let her in,” he whirled his wine glass, dropping his gaze now, “And when I think about it, that was true. Thank fuck.” His eyes came back to me. “The thought of handing her—someone as vindictive as her—all my personal crap . . .”
“Like ammunition in her hands,” I murmured, understanding completely.
“Exactly. I believe you work hard to make a marriage work. I didn’t want to give up. But one day, not too long before my father passed away, he called me and asked me to check a property we were trying to sell on Dublin Street. Not Ellie and yours,” he added quickly. “He told me there had been a complaint about dripping water in the downstairs flat, so I went along to check.” His jaw clenched. “I didn’t find a leak, but I found Analise in bed with a close friend of mine from school. My dad had known. They’d been going behind my back for six months.”
I closed my eyes, feeling pain for him echo in my chest. How could anyone do that to him? To him? When I opened them, his gaze was soft on me and I reached for his arm, squeezing it consolingly. To my surprise his mouth quirked up into a smile. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Jocelyn. Years of retrospect took away that. What I had with Analise was superficial. A young man’s dick leading him astray.”
“You really believe that?”
“I know that.”
I frowned, shaking my head. “Why would you buy a property on Dublin Street again?”
He shrugged. “Analise may have fucked off back to Australia once I divorced her and made sure she left with nothing, but she’d still tainted the city I loved. I’ve spent the last six years creating new memories all over the city, building over the mess she left behind. The same is true with Dublin Street. The flat you’re in was a mess. A shell on a street poisoned with betrayal. I wanted to create something beautiful in place of all the ugliness.”
His words sank inside me so deeply I couldn’t breathe. Who was this guy? Was he real?
He lifted his hand to my face, his fingers gliding softly along my jawline, and curving down my neck. I shivered. Yes, he was real.
And for the next three months he was mine.
I stood up abruptly, grabbing my clutch. “Take me back to yours.”
Braden didn’t argue. His eyes flared with understanding and he got us the check. We were out of there and in a cab before I knew it.
Chapter 16
I had no clue where Braden lived and was surprised to be let out of the cab at the university on the walkway that led down to The Meadows. Situated above a café and a little express supermarket was a modern building hosting luxury apartments. We rode the elevator to the top, and Braden let me inside his duplex penthouse.
I should have known.
The place was amazing to say the least, but it definitely looked like a guy lived there. Hardwood floors everywhere, a huge chocolate brown suede corner unit couch, a black glass fire mounted to the wall, a huge wide-screen TV in the corner. A partition wall separated the sitting room from the kitchen and its matching island. The kitchen itself was clearly top of the range, but it was finished in a cold steel and looked like it had never been used. At the back of the apartment was stairs leading up to what I guessed were the bedrooms.
It was all the glass that made it so cool. Floor to ceiling windows on three sides offered views of the city, with French doors leading out from the sitting room onto a huge private terrace. I’d discover later, that upstairs on the opposite side of the building, the master bedroom had floor to ceiling windows and another terrace, giving this penthouse a three hundred and sixty degree view of the city.
The view at night was spectacular. My mom had never done the city justice when she tried to describe it to me. I felt an ache rip across my chest as I stood in the middle of Braden’s sitting room staring out at the world in pain, and wondering how often Braden did the same thing.
“You haven’t said a word. Are you okay?”
I turned to face him, knowing in him, I’d find the temporary cure. “Do you to want to fuck it out?”
Braden smiled slowly, bemused, causing another twist of attraction in my gut. “Fuck it out?”
“All the bullshit. What she did. What he did. Every soulless bitch that wanted something from you.”
His expression changed immediately, becoming hard, unfathomable, as he took a step towards me. “Are you saying you don’t want anything from me?”
“I want this. I want our arrangement. I want you . . .” I sucked in a breath, feeling my control slip.” . . . to fuck it out of me.”
“Fuck what out, Jocelyn?”
Couldn’t he see it? Was my mask really that good? I shrugged. “All the nothing.”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching.
And then I was wrenched into his arms, his hold tight at my nape as his mouth fell on mine. It was a desperate kiss. Whether it was his desperation or mine, I didn’t know. I just knew I’d never been kissed so deeply, so hungrily. It wasn’t about finesse. It was about trying to sink ourselves inside one another.
Braden broke the kiss, his chest rising and falling hard as he tried to catch his breath. I stared up at him, already deep in a sexual fog, as he cupped my face gently in his hands and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth, his tongue just flicking mine teasingly. When he pulled back, his hands whispered down my arms and he turned me around slowly with his hands on my waist. I stood with my back to him, my breath stuttering as his fingers reached for the side zip of the dress. His touch was so hot I could feel the heat through the material. The only sound in the room was that of our excited breaths, and the sharp zip of the zipper as Braden slid it down excruciatingly slowly, his fingers brushing my skin as he went. Unzipped, he glided his hands back up my arms to the straps of the dress, and just as slowly, peeled them off my shoulders. Done, he gripped the material at the hips and tugged the dress down until it pooled at my feet.
“Step out,” he whispered hoarsely into my ear.
Pulse racing, I lifted my heels and stepped out of the circle of the dress, the movement making me realize how embarrassingly wet I already was. Braden lifted the dress off the floor and draped it across his couch. When he came back I felt his hand stroke the soft skin of my buttocks. Did I mention I’d bought new lingerie too? I was wearing black lace from Victoria Secret. The panties cut high across the butt cheek so more skin was showing than not, and the bra cut low so my cleavage looked hot in the dress.
I shivered as Braden continued to caress me, his fingers sliding down the crease of my backside and then entering me from behind. I moaned, arching back into him as he pulled his fingers out and then slid them back in. “Braden.”
He withdrew only to clasp me by the hips and press me back against him, his erection d
igging into my backside since I still had on the heels. “That’s all it takes to make me hard,” he told me softly, his lips brushing my ear. “You: saying my name.”
My chest tightened and I didn’t know how to reply. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to feel.
As if he sensed that, he turned me around and stepped back, his eyes taking me in, in my sexy new underwear. “Gorgeous. But I prefer you naked.” His eyes dipped to the shoes and they sparked. “Those can stay on.”
I reached around my back to unfasten my bra but Braden was back in my space, his hands stopping mine. He shook his head and I dropped my arms. “Just wait.” He moved back from me. I stood in nothing but my underwear and heels, and watched as Braden slowly and tortuously undressed. Wearing nothing but his suit pants, his chest and feet bare, he grinned at me, his eyes smoldering with intent. I didn’t care what the intent was. I just wanted him inside me already.
But Braden wasn’t done. With an arm around my waist he brought me into his body, the bare skin of my stomach touching his torso, my naked legs brushing his pants, my breasts pressed to his naked skin. I felt a tug in my hair as his other hand made quick work of taking out all the pins that were holding my hair up, and seconds later it was tumbling down my back in a riot of messy curls. I watched his eyes flare, and for once, thanked God for all my hair if this was the kind of reaction it got from Braden. His hand tightened in it and he used it to jerk my head back, his lips hovering over my exposed throat. I held my breath, my skin overheated, my legs trembling, my hands gripping his shoulders as I waited. I felt the tickle of his mouth on my skin, another, a barely there butterfly brush and I found myself making a noise of frustration.
Braden’s breath huffed against my throat and then his mouth was pressing there, his tongue flicking softly against my skin as he trailed hot kisses down, down, until he hit the rise of my breasts. Cold air blew over me as he tugged down the bra, my nipple tight and begging for his mouth. His lips closed around me and I jerked my hips into his, his hard cock digging into me, the need coiling into wildness. “Braden, please,” I begged, my back arched against his mouth. My hand brushed down his chest, smoothing over his hot, hard skin, to cup him through his pants.
His breath faltered and he pulled back, his own hips leaned into my touch as he rubbed himself against my hand. “Fuck,” he murmured, his eyes closing briefly before flashing back open with fire in them. “I can’t wait.”
I nodded, my belly squeezing with anticipation, my panties absolutely drenched with it. With deftness I didn’t want to think about, Braden undid my bra in seconds, his large hands taking a moment to cup my breasts. I felt him grow even harder against me.
That’s when his slow, torturous control really snapped. I was tugged towards him as he moved back towards the door where a high side cabinet was positioned against the wall, and then I was spun around, pushed none-too-gently into it, his front at my back. My breath was coming out in frantic puffs now as I gripped hold of the unit. Braden’s hands came around to squeeze my breasts, forcing my body back into his as his tongue flicked my ear. “I’m going to take you like this. It’s going to be hard, Jocelyn, hard and rough. You ready?”
I nodded, my heart spluttering a little.
My panties were gone, whipped down my legs and I stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. The heat of him at my back, the sound of the zipper on his pants sliding down, sent a bolt of pure lust through my sex and my nails dug into the cabinet with anticipation
He splayed a hand on my belly, tugging me back and upwards so I was bent over, my arms flat on the unit, and bent at the elbow. He slid a finger inside me. “Babe . . .” he murmured smugly, “You’re soaked.”
I made a guttural ‘get on with it’ sound and he chuckled in response an instant before he slammed his cock inside me. I cried out at the deep invasion, my back bowing, but Braden gave me no time for reprieve. He slid out a couple of inches and thrust back inside, the cabinet solid beneath my weight as I relaxed into it. The apartment filled with the sound of our heavy breathing, our groans and grunts, the wet slap of flesh as he fucked me hard into oblivion. His fingers dug into my hips as he pounded into me from behind, groaning as I pushed back into him in perfect, but rough, rhythm. My panting got louder, spurring him on and he reached up to pinch my nipples as his hips continued to jerk against me. That was the trigger.
“Braden!” I screamed, an orgasm to beat all others exploding through me, my sex squeezing and pulsing around his cock as he continued to ride me to his own climax.
He came with a deep groan, his mouth on my shoulder, his hands gripping my hips even tighter to his as he rocked up into me, shuddering as he came.
My limbs were no longer working. The only thing holding me up was Braden.
After a while, he slipped out of me carefully, but still I winced. He hadn’t taken it easy on me. As if he sensed that, he held me tight. “Are you okay?”
No. I was freaking awesome. “That was amazing,” I breathed, falling against him.
His laugh was low, almost a purr. “You’re telling me.”
I found myself turned around to face him and gently lifted onto the cabinet, Braden hitching my legs up around his hips, my hands resting on his chest as he locked eyes with me. I felt something shift in his expression as he looked at me, something that made my breath catch. He caught the sound with his mouth as he dipped his head to kiss me slowly, languorously. Tenderly.
Sometimes words aren’t needed for you to know a change has come upon you. You can share a look with a friend that cements a deeper understanding between you, and thus a stronger bond. A touch with a sister or brother or parent that says ‘I’m here, no matter what’ and suddenly someone who was just a relative, a person you love, turns out also to be one of your best friends.
Something happened there with Braden when he looked at me, when we kissed.
It wasn’t just sex.
I needed to get out of there.
He pulled back, his lip quirked up at the corner as he brushed my hair back from my face. “I’m not done with you yet.” And then he kissed me again.
I stayed there, wrapped around him, as we made out. It was a real, honest-to-goodness make-out and, like teenagers, we were at for at least ten minutes. My body warred with my emotions. I didn’t want to give up what was between us. It was addictive, seductive. But I didn’t want anything more than what we were able to give each other physically. I should leave.
I couldn’t leave.
I understood now what people meant when they referred to someone as their drug.
That meant I’d just have to redefine the night. Sex.
Decision made, I pulled back and licked my swollen lips before I scooted off the cabinet and kicked off my heels. “I have an apology to make,” I reminded him, lowering myself to my knees.
Eyes lidded, Braden gazed down at me. “For what?” he murmured as his semi-hard cock rose into full-blown hard-on.
I grinned. “For calling you an asshole.”
He laughed, thick laughter that choked off into a groan as I wrapped my mouth around him.
* * *
Even though Braden had pressed a remote that drew blinds across the windows that took up most of the wall in his bedroom, the morning sun still shone brightly into the room, waking me. I turned my head on his pillow and saw the clock said seven thirty. I knew Braden wasn’t beside me because usually his heat woke me, plus I could hear the shower running in his en-suite.
The rest of last night flashed back. The restaurant. Finding out about his wife. Aching for him. Coming here. The wild sex against the cabinet. Me going down on Braden, him returning the favor. A naked tour of his duplex that ended in his bedroom. Still feeling weird, I’d shoved him onto his back on the bed and kissed and licked my way up his amazing body, before taking him inside me. The plan was to ride him back a f
ew hours to where we had been before.
Braden had other plans.
As I came, he’d flipped us over and drove into me over and over, his eyes gazing down into mine. I wanted to close them like last time. But I couldn’t.
I closed them now with a soft groan.
This was so getting complicated, and cowardly it might be, but I just couldn’t face Braden in the light of day after the intensity of the previous evening. I slipped out of the huge oriental style bed and scurried quietly from the room, jogging downstairs to my clothes. I hurried into my underwear and dress, stuck my feet into the shoes, even though they hurt, and grabbed my clutch. I let myself out, my heart thumping hard against my chest as I guiltily made my way out into the fresh air. Not really in the mood to do the walk of shame, I hailed a cab at the top of the Quartermile and didn’t relax until we were pulling into Dublin Street.
I was just putting my key in the door when I got the text.
Whatever the fuck that was, don’t do it again. We’ll talk.
I exhaled heavily, exhausted at the prospect.
* * *
Judy Garland was singing at me, telling me the sun was shining and to come on get happy. There was nothing wrong with a little Judy Garland, but right then I wanted Gene Kelly to come back on the screen and dance for me. I’d showered the sweat and sex from last night off, changed into jeans and a hoodie and curled up on the couch to watch old movies. If I’d tried to sit down at my laptop and write I would only have gotten lost in my very confused and messed up thoughts. So I was numbing my mind with musicals and my big Old Hollywood crush, Gene Kelly.
I had just made myself a sandwich when I heard the front door open. My heart stopped for a second until I heard the light footsteps. Ellie. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey.” Ellie smiled down at me as she strolled into the room. “Back from the opticians.”
I put Judy on mute. “How’d it go?”
“Apparently, I need glasses for reading and watching the TV.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t really suit glasses.”
On Dublin Street (9781101623497) Page 20
