I bite my lip.
“Oh my god,” Jillian says, her voice amused. “You’re terrifying her.”
His eyes narrow. “No, I’m not, am I, Veronica?”
“Only a little.” I smile and it makes him laugh.
He chucks me under the chin. “I just wanted to get a good look at you.”
I have no idea what that means.
He sits back down and pulls Layla close, kissing her temple.
She smiles up at me, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, flashing her huge engagement ring. When she speaks her voice is full of sass. “Don’t let him scare you. He’s harmless.”
He cocks a brow. “Harmless?”
“Of course.” She gives him a smile so filled with cunning it’s hard to miss.
I instinctively take a step back, knowing something is about to go down and I’m finally going to get to the crux of this sex party business.
He traces a path over her neck. “Are you looking to get hurt?”
Hurt? My mind stutters over the word.
“Duh,” she says, clearly she’s unfazed.
Jillian and Ruby laugh.
That strange, addictive heat licks low in my belly.
Michael’s looking at Layla with such menace I don’t know how she’s not shaking.
I take another step back and somehow end up bumping into Brandon. His hand curves over my hip as he steadies me, touching me for the first time in days. His palm is a brand on my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
Michael’s easy movements shift and I gasp as he suddenly takes Layla by the neck, his fingers like a vise around her throat.
Layla’s eyes dilate as her chest swells.
“Did we not talk about overplaying your hand, girl?”
She nods.
Michael juts his chin and releases his hold before saying in a low voice, “Get on your knees. Facing me.”
They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before she stands.
Michael opens his legs. She steps between them. He smirks. And back ruler-straight, she falls to her knees between his splayed thighs.
And just like that the air is thick with that indescribable tension.
He lifts her chin and she gazes up at him. His expression flashes dark and hungry. “I’ll hurt you when I’m good and ready to do so. Until then, you just sit there like a good girl and think about it.”
Her grip tightens on his pant leg. “Yes, Michael.”
Brandon’s fingers dig into my hip and I find myself shifting, moving against him.
He stiffens and I realize what I’m doing and jerk away.
I turn to look at him.
His expression is angry, his blue eyes hard and cold.
I frown.
What in god’s name is wrong with him? The silence grows between us and what’s been threatening all week, snaps. “What?”
“I don’t like what you’re wearing.” His voice is filled with a threatening rasp.
The comment is like a slap across the face, the sting a harsh blow. I resist the urge to flinch.
“Brandon!” Jillian yells, her voice breaking the strange hold he has on me.
I want to say something scathing, but I’m so close to losing it, I keep my mouth shut. I shake my head and put on that smile I’ve worn a thousand times in my life. I turn back to the table and try not to look directly at any of them. “Have a lovely evening. It’s time for me to get back to work.”
Then I walk off, head held high.
Brandon Townsend III can go fuck himself.
* * *
Brandon
God fucking dammit.
I watch Veronica walk away. I don’t understand what possessed me to say that.
“What the hell, Brandon?” Jillian’s voice whips me from my trance and I jerk my attention back to the table. She points at me. “You need to go apologize.”
“Mind your own business, Jillian.” The words are a growl.
“You’re being a dick.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
I’m in a foul temper and in no mood for her interference. Ever since Veronica stepped through the doors some primal, unreasonable part of my brain has taken over. I narrow my eyes at Leo. “Control your woman.”
He cocks a brow. “My woman is perfectly under control and none of your fucking concern.”
Layla peers over her shoulder and glances up from the floor, her brow furrowed. “Are you all right, Brandon?”
I open my mouth to lash out at her and catch Michael’s dark, warning gaze. Layla has gone through severe trauma in her life. Michael does not tolerate even a wayward glance in her direction. It clears my head. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m going to yell at Layla? Because I want a woman I can’t have?
I give her a gentle smile. “I’m fine, darling girl.”
Michael’s expression eases.
I need to get away from them for a second. From everything. To clear my head and pull myself back together again.
I pull my silent phone from my pocket, pretend to read it, and say, “I’ve got to take this.”
And before they can say anything I walk off in the direction of my office.
I open the door and find Veronica sitting on the couch.
Christ. I need to get the fuck away from her and the last thing we need right now is to be alone. I snap. “What, Veronica?”
She stands, stomps over to me, and jabs me in the chest. “If you don’t like what I’m wearing, don’t look at me.”
I bat her hand away. My temper, which I never, ever let get the better of me, starts a rapid boil. “I am not the kind of man you tell what to do.”
“Oh really?” Her voice rises. “Too bad. I’m not one of your little girls you can boss around. I’m not going to fall in line for you. So you can just go to hell.”
The tension, simmering between us all week, takes over in the form of fury. I yell, “I am your boss, and this is your place of employment. I can’t have you walking around like an open fucking invitation.”
She rears back. “You made me dress like this.”
Any and all rationality clouds my brain. The man I was before Veronica lurks in the corner, smirking and dismissive, shaking his head, but he doesn’t rise to the surface. I’m too far gone for that. I wave a hand over her. “I never once told you to wear a dress that barely covers your ass.”
She points at the door. “You told me to look a part. I’ve accomplished that. If you don’t like the results, that’s too goddamn bad.”
“I don’t like the results.”
She plants her hands on her hips. “You told me to dress for a sex party. You told your friends to make sure I looked a certain way and this is what they picked out. I don’t look any different than anyone else.”
“Yes, you do.” I don’t want them. I want her and it’s driving me right out of my mind.
“How?” she screams. “I saw a woman with her breasts hanging out.”
We’re both breathing hard.
“That’s different!” I answer, completely irrationally.
“You’re being ridiculous.” She shakes her head at me, then veers around me and puts her hand on the door. “Don’t talk to me for the rest of the night. Don’t come by me. And definitely don’t look at me.”
Like lightning I reach out and slam the door shut, and then I’m on her, shoving her against the door and trapping her with my body. I lean down and growl into her ear, “Don’t give me orders.”
She gasps, and her hands splay on the wood. “Go to hell.”
I shove her hips against the door. My hard cock brushes against her ass and she presses back. I groan and kick out her legs.
She struggles against me, and her breath is coming in fast pants. “You’re being inappropriate.”
“No shit.”
“Stop it.”
That one word pulls me from my state. Christ. I was two steps away from smacking her on the ass before taking her. She’s not my submissive. She’s my employee. I’ve
pinned her against the door. I’m acting like a maniac. I release her, step back and run my hand through my hair. “Leave.”
She straightens, tugs on her skirt. “Fine.”
A second later she slams out the door.
Jaw clenched, I can only stare at it as frustration gnaws at me.
I hate everything about the way she makes me feel. Everything. And for the first time in a long time, I have no fucking idea what to do about it.
* * *
Veronica
I’m hiding in the bathroom, attempting to compose myself.
I’m shaking. With rage and lust, both unexpressed and unrelenting.
Nothing about us feels under control. He pushed me. I pushed back. Something needs to break between us. We can’t go on like this.
I take a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out what it is about my appearance that set him off so.
But I can’t see it.
The door opens and Jillian walks in, her brow furrowed.
I smile, but I fear it wobbles at the corners. “Hey. Having fun?”
She walks over to me, and puts her hand on my arm. “You know it’s not you.”
The one thing I’ve noticed about this group is everyone cuts to the chase. I’m not used to it. Where I come from no one says what they think. I shrug. “Isn’t it exactly me?”
“Well, yes, that’s true.” She smiles softly. “I don’t know what to tell you. Honestly, I’ve never seen Brandon fuck up with a woman before, so I’m not sure what action you should take.”
I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
She sighs. “He’s one of my best friends. I love him—well, not quite like a brother considering the things he’s seen me do—but close. I’ve known him for almost two years and in that time I’ve seen him with a lot of women. He always says and does exactly the right thing. Always. He’s never thrown off his game. Never breaks a sweat. Never makes a mistake. He’s always perfect. Always in complete control. And then you came along.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t know what he wants from me.”
“I think that’s kind of the problem. He doesn’t know.” She smiles again. “But trust me, he likes you in that dress.”
I laugh, feeling a bit better. “Oh yeah, I can tell.”
“Honey, you don’t understand. He was having to use willpower not to slam you over the table and show everyone you were off limits.”
“But that’s what I don’t understand. He has his rules, I get that…” I trail off and glance away. What do I expect? That I’m special and he should break them for me?
“Veronica.”
At the sound of my name I look back at her.
“Brandon never has to use willpower.” She shakes her head. “Ever. He’s had it so easy for so long he hates that you’re a struggle. Hates that he can’t control wanting you.”
“Oh.” And then I get it. For a man like him, who controls everything from his business dealings to the women he beds, giving in to me, to the attraction that burns like a wildfire between us, is like a failure to him. He thinks he should be able to control it because he says, then every time I move closer and he can’t resist it’s making him more nervous.
I’m making him nervous. Me.
I lick my lips. “What do you think I should do?”
She smiles and it’s pure evil. “Make him sweat.”
I nod. “I will.”
I have no choice, for both our sakes.
* * *
I’ve ignored Brandon for the last two hours and it’s been crazy busy so it hasn’t been hard. I’ve seen him twice, and both times we shot each other dark, glaring looks and passed without a word. The good thing is I haven’t had much time to think about it. To think about him and what I’m going to do about this thing that grows every time we get within ten feet of each other.
The night is crazy. Everyone decked out in elaborate outfits. Half-naked people. Completely naked people. I’ve seen more tonight than I have in my entire life. I’ve heard people scream and then explode into ecstasy. I’ve seen people having sex. I saw one woman spread over the bar. Another suspended from the ceiling. I saw a man being led around like a dog.
All things I’d process later when I wasn’t running around like a maniac making sure everything was perfect. Making sure Brandon knew how competent I was, despite everything. Things finally settle down as people fall into the rhythm of the party and I stop by Brandon’s group of friends to say hi.
Leo and Jillian are off somewhere, so that left Michael and Layla and Chad and Ruby.
Layla is off the floor, sitting next to Michael in her pink dress, looking like an angel. He has his arm around her, but he smiles at me as I walked over to them.
“Are you guys having fun?” I ask, trying to pretend the last time they saw me didn’t involve a scene with Brandon. “Do you need anything?”
Layla beams. “We’re great.”
Ruby pats the seat next to her. “Can you sit for a bit?”
I stare longingly at the booth. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid if I do I’ll never get up again.”
“Too bad,” Ruby says. “But we understand.”
“Veronica.” Brandon’s voice is cool behind me.
I snap ruler-straight and swing around. In an equally cool voice, I say, “Yes?”
His expression darkens. “Reggie needs you in the back.”
“Fine.” I turn back to his group of friends. “Duty calls.”
Layla waves. “We’ll be here.”
I turn, narrow my eyes at Brandon, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. I have an irrational urge to slap him across the face, which surprises me as I’m not a violent person. “Anything else, boss?”
My sarcasm earns me another scowl.
If he thinks I’ll shy away like one of those girls always cowering before him, he’s got another think coming. Shoulders thrown back I hold his gaze.
He doesn’t look away.
Neither do I.
The din of the crowd melts away.
And it’s just him and me. Squaring off.
His brow rises. “Are you done?”
“Nope.” The word is quick and flippant.
“Are you sure about that?”
This is stupid, I know that, but I can’t give up now. “Absolutely.”
We fall silent again. In the back of my mind, I realize we must appear crazy. I’m literally daring him into a pissing match, but he started it.
This isn’t my most mature moment.
And you know what? I really don’t give a fuck.
“How long do you think this is going to go on?” Layla asks.
“Could be all night,” Michael answers, clearly amused.
But I still don’t break.
“You’re not going to win, Veronica.” Brandon’s voice is so low, so dangerous, I shiver.
I fling his words back at him. “Are you sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” It’s a promise. I can see it in the set of his body, the barely leashed aggression.
“Should we clear off the table?” Ruby asks.
Chad chuckles. “That might be wise.”
Brandon steps toward me until he’s towering over me, but I don’t back away. “I have a lot more experience at this game than you do, Veronica.”
“What I lack in experience I make up for in determination.” I smirk. “Don’t pretend you’re not scared you’re going to lose.”
“Clear the table,” Michael says.
“Not necessary.” Brandon says, but there’s still a flurry of activity. His expression flashes. “What are we talking about here? What exactly are you hoping for?”
It dawns on me. I want him to cave. I want him to snap and take care of all this tension and heat. I want him to take control. Of the situation. I gulp. Of me.
And then I know what to do. It’s bold. Daring. Maybe even wrong. Or a mistake. But so what? Isn’t that why I’ve blown up my whole life? Why my parents a
re barely talking to me? Why I went against all common sense and hounded him into hiring me in the first place? To live?
I know what I want. Smart or stupid, doesn’t really matter. Because if I don’t find out, it will be a regret, and I’m not willing to have regrets anymore. Even if that means heartbreak and disaster.
So I stop thinking, stop plotting, and act. I step forward, reach out, put my hand around his neck and pull. His expression flashes wide with surprise and I think he’s going to resist me, but then I’m rising to my tiptoes, tilting my face.
And his mouth is blessedly on me.
He stiffens for a fraction of a second before his arm locks around my waist and he’s hauling me close.
It’s been too long and it’s like I’m starving.
His tongue sweeps, touches mine, and I forget everything.
Our surroundings.
The audience sure to be gaping at us.
Everything but the press of this man’s mouth on mine.
I plaster myself against his body. His arm tightens and his free hand slides around my neck, tangling in my hair.
The kiss goes hot. Untamed. Visceral and frantic. All the tension we’ve been fighting pours into the claiming of our mouths. Demanding and dirty. His head slants, and suddenly the contact’s deeper, more intimate. Less about getting even and more about getting closer.
I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything. I’m practically vibrating with it.
“Christ. You need to break it up.” The voice is loud and near.
We rip apart, and the surroundings come rushing back, blaring and noisy. The crowd and the music scraping along my over-sensitive nerves.
I’m shaking. Kissing Brandon was like being pulled into the eye of a storm.
I suck in a breath and see Leo and Jillian standing there, fingers intertwined.
Jillian is wearing a huge grin.
Leo cocks a brow. “We’re all cool watching, but I figured you wouldn’t want your employees getting a first-hand show.”
Brandon’s expression is the equivalent to a summer storm cloud.
I lick my lips. They still taste of him, are still swollen from the force of his possession.
“Umm…” I wave in the direction of the back. “I… Um… Reggie needs me.”
Taken Page 15
