Blended (Redemption #1)

by Sasha Brümmer

  I swing my legs off of the bed and drink him in—in all of his deliciousness. He’s wearing a dark suit, his jaw has a large bruise on the left-hand side, and his stubble has grown in heavier than I’ve seen on him before.

  “I don’t need to stay the night, but thank you. I don’t know why I fell asleep either. I’ve been exhausted these last few days.”

  “You are staying the night, seeing as it’s one in the morning. There won’t be any arguments about it.” I watch his jaw move as he speaks and my panties reap the effects of it.

  “Are you serious?” I search around for my phone but come up empty-handed. I turn toward his body, and I can feel the vague rumblings of the static making its presence known.

  “Yes. Did you eat before you drank those two tumblers?”

  “No, not really. I haven’t been able to stomach too much in the last few days.”

  The lines in his forehead deepen as he sits down next to me. “Then you should not have been drinking. Especially on your own.”

  “I know, I just . . .” I stop myself before showing my hand of cards. “I was hoping that you would be there today. I’m so sorry about last night. I had no idea that he would come in or . . .”

  “Stop,” he says as he cups my cheek with one of his large hands. “I know that his coming there wasn’t something that you knew about. The shock on your face told me that, but as I said before, I understand that he’s going to give you what I won’t. Him or others.”

  “He’s not.” My stomach twists. I’m not sure if it’s from his words or if I’m just not feeling well. “Where’s the bathroom?” Waves of nausea add to my misery instantly. I clutch my mouth and get up quickly.

  His eyes widen as he takes my hand and leads me from the bedroom and into the bathroom attached to it. “Are you ill?”

  I rush to the toilet, unable to get the words out before I purge whatever is left of the whiskey I had consumed earlier today.

  I hold my hand out to stop him when he approaches, but he comes toward me anyway, taking my hair into his hands and holding it out of my face. “I’m not leaving. Now, try and relax.”

  Another bout of it comes over me, and I squeeze my knees as my body eradicates itself of whatever it can. A heaving lurch rips through me, and I start to quiver.

  “I’m sorry,” I choke out.

  “Shh,” he offers and lets go of my hair when he thinks it’s safe. He leaves my side, but he’s back in a short amount of time with a warm, wet washcloth. “Use this, Rye, and I’ll get you to bed.”

  I wipe my face off with the cloth and then my mouth, hoping that he has an extra toothbrush lying around. The second I go to stand his arms come around me, and he helps me up, moving my hair out of my face. I look up at him, and he has a small private smile on his face as he inspects me.

  “Do you need a doctor?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “I want you in my bed instead of this one. Come, and I’ll get you some cold water as well.”

  I nod as he laces his fingers with mine and leads me through the bedroom door out into a too-wide hallway and down it until we come to a closed door. He pushes it open, and I’m suddenly engulfed in his scent. It surrounds me entirely as we cross his bedroom to the bathroom attached to it. It’s dark in here, so I’m not able to see much, but it feels warm and inviting.

  Without speaking, he fishes out a new toothbrush and hands it to me. “Freshen up and I’ll get you something to drink.”

  “Thank you,” I murmur, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

  He places a kiss to my temple before disappearing. I stare at my reflection in the mirror; I’m too pale, even for me, and ashen-faced. A heat wave of mortification scorches my blood as cold sweat breaks out over my skin. I glance around the lavish fancy-ass bathroom until my eyes find a vast glass-encased shower.

  I make quick work of brushing my teeth, scrubbing my tongue until it feels raw and clean before I strip out of his shirt and my bra and panties. I walk on unsteady legs to the shower and somehow figure out how to turn it on. When I step underneath the spray, the icy water hits my body from multiple showerheads. I know that if this is a fever, I need to crush it and fast. I just hope that this works. I’m going to be having horrifying flashbacks of getting sick in front of him for weeks to come.

  Feeling faint, I sink down against the shower wall until I’m seated on the floor as the water washes over me, cooling my overheated body. I pull my legs up against me and rest my head against my knees as I exhale.

  I’m unaware that he’s stepped into the shower until his strong arms come around me and pull me to my feet. “Jesus, baby, it’s fucking freezing,” he says as he pulls me against his clothed chest.

  If this fever wasn’t melting my insides already, then I think his term of endearment would have. I lay my cheek against him and shut my eyes, forcing my body to relax at this moment.

  “How are you still so warm? This water is glacial.”

  I shrug and wrap my arms around his torso, not wanting to be anywhere else but in his arms right now. My mind wanders to the tattoo scarring his back, and I smile to myself. There may be a streak of recklessness in him that he’s not ready to show. He’s keeping his cards close to his chest, and I’m desperate to cheat and take a peek at what he’s holding. Does he hold the king to my queen?

  “Let me wash you.” It’s a statement and not a question, one that doesn’t need a reply.

  He pulls his body away from mine and takes off his suit jacket that I’m sure is completely ruined now. It slaps heavily on the shower floor before he unbuttons his collared shirt as well. The white cotton fabric clings to him, and it reminds me of kissing him in the rain on our date.

  I reach my hand out to the shower wall to steady myself. Apparently getting turned on and sick at the same time is not a good combination for me because I’m feeling weak again.

  He reaches out to a pump attached to the wall before running his fingers through my hair. I moan at the contact of his fingers as he massages my scalp. I close my eyes and stay still, enjoying his hands on me. I’m not ashamed that I’m standing naked in front of this man, and I’m not even pissed that he hasn’t dared a glance down at me.

  Once he’s done rinsing my hair out for the second time, he runs his bare hands over my chest. My eyes flutter open as I watch him spread suds over my breasts. His eyes are watching his hands move methodically against my skin as he does, and it’s the most intimate thing that I have ever experienced. His brow is furrowed in concentration and his stance changes slightly.

  His hands move lower, covering my stomach, hips, and back in suds before he kneels down in front of me and starts at my thighs, running down my legs to my feet before he looks up at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I say before I run my hand through his dark, wet hair, loving how silky it feels now that it’s wet.

  He must decide on something because his hands stop against my skin, and he looks up at me. “I’m going to wash you. Do you trust that I won’t take advantage of you?”

  The word hits me in my gut for the first time, but I nod and take a step, widening my stance for him. He soaps up his hands and runs them up my inner thighs before touching me intimately without a loofah or a washcloth. It’s just his skin against mine. I don’t shut my eyes as he washes the apex of my thighs. Instead, I watch his hands move as they send jolts of pleasure through my body and I cannot help but lean into his touch when he cups me. Before I can get used to his touch, though, he removes his hands from me and spins me around slowly to wash the backs of my legs, but pauses when he notices the three microdermal piercings that grace my lower back. They are centered on my lower spine and in a straight line, stopping at the curve of my back. He continues up to my ass; he doesn’t linger or prod, he just washes me, cleansing me of this fever.

  “All done,” he says in a dark, raspy voice before standing and moving me under the spray. He turns the heat of the water up to lukewarm instead of ice as
he rinses me off slowly. He takes his time as if it’s the one and only time he’ll see me naked in front of him.

  Once he’s done, and all of the suds from my body are long gone, he reaches behind me and turns off the showerheads. I look up at him as drops of water fall from his hair, his lip, and chin to his sculpted chest. This man is gorgeous. Every muscle on his torso is well defined and visible. He’s the kind of man that will stop anyone in his or her tracks, regardless of sexual preference. He might be a private person, but he’s not ashamed to show me just what he has underneath his clothing. His self-confidence is palpable.

  He takes my hand and leads me out of the shower where he pulls a fluffy black towel from a rack on the wall, wrapping me in it before he undoes his belt buckle. I hadn’t even realized that he was still half dressed because I was too preoccupied with his skin burning mine while he was touching me.

  His fingers work to undo his pants, and he pushes them down his legs while his eyes never leave mine. He removes his unbuttoned shirt, and it hits the floor. I dare a glance down at his bare legs, which are shaped perfectly, just like every other part of his body. His legs are strong and bold. He kicks his pants aside and hooks his fingers into his white boxer briefs. They outline his cock flawlessly, and I can see every inch of him through the wet material. He doesn’t hesitate to push the briefs down and kick them to the side as well. Every man will pale in comparison to him from now on. He’s natural perfection. I flush every shade of pink as I openly gape at him.

  He’s standing entirely naked in front of me with his cock pointing in my direction as if it’s leading the way. He reaches for another towel and wraps it around his waist, hindering my view of his glorious cock before running a hand through his hair. I watch him carefully as his tongue darts out to collect a drop of water on his top lip.

  “Come,” he says as he offers me his hand. I take it without a word as he leads me back into his bedroom. The two lights on either side of his bed are now on. They must be set to dim, and I am able to actually see around his room this time. It’s done in neutral colors with white sheets on his bed and a gray blanket folded down. There are floor to ceiling gray curtains, which are drawn, cloaking the room from the city. A large marble fireplace sits across from his bed with a coffee-colored couch and ottoman in front of it. Above the fireplace is a large flat-screen television, which is currently off. It’s a simple space, but gorgeous nonetheless.

  He leads me to the side of his bed and pulls back the sheets. “You need to rest,” he says as I sit down and take the glass of water he picks up from the nightstand and two deep blue pills.

  “You don’t have to do this, Wade. I can call Lola to come and get me.”

  “No. I want you here if you’re ill. I don’t trust anyone with you,” he says with a gentleness that wasn’t there before.

  “You don’t?” I ask as I take a sip of the fresh water after placing the medication he gave me on my tongue, the ice clinking against the glass the only sound in the room for a moment.

  “No,” he says forcefully as I watch his sharp jaw and angular cheekbones flex. I’m not sure if it’s the fever or if I’m truly seeing just how beautiful this man is for the first time. I knew he was attractive, but he goes far beyond the average person.

  “Why?”

  “Look at you,” he says as he glances down my body, “you’re vulnerable, attractive, and if someone realizes how truly unique and remarkable you are, then he’ll try to take your heart from me.”

  I stop with the glass to my lips, my eyes meeting his seaside blues in question. “Who will?”

  “Every single man out there.” He cups my cheek and leans down to place his lips against mine. They move softly as if he’s going to chip the thin, fragile layer of glass that I’ve quickly become.

  He breaks away far too soon for my liking, but compensates for it by placing a kiss on my temple. “Lie back.”

  I do as I’m told and get comfortable in his bed. His bed. The only man’s bed that I have slept in before was Lawson’s. I push the thought from my head and get comfortable. Once he pulls the comforter over me, he walks to his bedroom door as if he’s going to leave.

  “You’re going?” I ask wearily.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Not for a second.” The honesty in my voice is easily heard, and it surprises even me.

  His smile lights up the room as he walks to the opposite side of the bed and climbs in, tossing the towel off of himself once he’s under the covers. Dare I do the same thing?

  He turns the light off on the side of his bed, and I follow suit, turning off the one on my side before I feel brave enough to pull the towel off of my body and toss it onto the floor beside me.

  We lie in silence for minutes before one of us decides that we are comfortable with moving. I shift and reach for him, realizing that he won’t push himself on me, especially since we’re both naked. I extend my hand out to graze his chest, running my fingers over his pecs and down his abdominal muscles. He turns toward me, taking my hand in his.

  “Wade?”

  “What is it, Rye?”

  “Why did you say that someone will take my heart from you?”

  He takes a few minutes to answer, but when he does, I can hear the truth and conviction of it. “Because it belongs to me. If I’m being honest . . . the thought of losing something that I don’t truly have terrifies the fuck out of me.”

  Remember that armor that was in place? The one that added another layer of protection to my heart? Well, it just completely shattered and fell to pieces at his words.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I offer him, hoping that he knows that I’m giving this thing between us a chance.

  He lets out a steady breath before reaching for me and pulling me into his arms. Our bare bodies unite and truly touch each other’s for the first time. I’m hyper-aware of every point where we touch. My spine tingles and sends bolts to those spots, making sure I’m well aware of where he is.

  “You may not be going anywhere, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t other men trying to pull you out of my grip.”

  My hand finds his face, and I run my finger over his lips. “I don’t think that there’s a man strong enough.”

  I feel him breathe in deeply at my words. “The knowledge that I share you with others kills me, Hadley. Just the thought of it sends a blunt and rusted knife through my skin.”

  It’s now or never, I tell myself, especially since we’re already having this conversation. I yawn and nestle into his chest. I can feel the medication start to work its magic, and I’m beyond grateful for it. “You don’t share me, Whiskey. After our date . . . after that phone call . . . I realized that I wanted to try.”

  He tilts my chin up, attempting to find my eyes in the dark room. “Try?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I say sleepily. “I’m going to try and be with you. Just you.”

  “Jesus . . .” his voice is a praise as he tugs me closer to his naked body. I can feel his cock stir between us, but I’m half asleep, and I wouldn’t do him any justice right now if he wants me. His lips find mine in the darkness and his kiss is tender, searching for the truth as his tongue slides against mine. He must find it because he stops kissing me and pulls my head against his chest where I close my eyes and stop fighting off the medication as it lulls me to sleep.

  If she actually meant what she said to me before the medication took her from me, then I’m not letting her out of my goddamn sight.

  She’s still asleep by the time I’ve showered and gotten dressed. Fuck, I don’t want to leave her alone, but I cannot miss this final meeting with the CEOs of the Australian companies and properties that I will be taking over. I’ve had three of them specifically flown out to add a few addendums to their contracts before I make my trip down under to visit and secure each property individually.

  As far as the properties go, the majority of them will be turned into offices, shelters, homes, and clinics for Mothers of Brass. I cannot r
isk losing them because I am unable to leave Hadley alone. I pick up my phone from my nightstand while I watch her. This sudden possessiveness has dug its claws down my spine and locked around me completely.

  I need a favor. I send the text before moving around to Hadley. My fingers brush her hair out of her face and I press my lips to her temple.

  Thirty minutes later, Isla is standing at the foot of my bed with me, watching Hadley.

  “I’m still having a difficult time trying to figure out why you actually let a woman sleep in your bed.”

  “She’s not just any woman, Isla. Please, just do this for me today. I know that you don’t have to be at Blended until later this evening.”

  “Listen, just because you are technically my boss does not mean that you can creep on my schedule or interrupt it for that matter.”

  I smirk and rest my hand on her shoulder. “You should start making a list of what you want to see while we’re in Australia. I’m sure that I can make it up to you.”

  “Fuck you and your bank account.”

  “You have, and I don’t believe my bank account has anything to do with our friendship.”

  “It doesn’t, and you know that. Fine. I’ll hang out here for the day, but I’m drinking your whiskey.”

  “Go for it,” I say and walk over to Hadley’s side. Isla walks out of the room before I have to ask her to. I kiss Hadley’s temple to say goodbye, but she stirs, and her deep turquoise eyes flutter open and closed again.

  “Rye, wake up for me for a minute?” I ask, and her eyes flutter open once again.

  “Hi, Whiskey,” she says with a small raspy voice.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She stretches out on my bed. The sheets slip below her breasts, and I dare a glance at her perfectly pale white skin. She seems to notice, and her nipples harden under my gaze. “I’m okay. I’m tired, though, and my throat is sore,” she says as she takes inventory of her body.

  “I’ll get Isla to bring you something for your throat once you’re dressed.”

  “Isla?”