A vein on his neck pulsed with frustration. “And led you to situations where you could have been hurt.”
“They were mistakes. Everyone makes them. And you, of all people, have no right to judge me.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your theories about fear,” I said, poking him in the chest. “Something traumatic happened to you, and it has informed the adult you’ve become and the decisions you’ve made. Just like me. It’s not a bad thing. Every person on the planet has their own issues; few are brave enough to examine them, analyze them, and make the changes they want to make in their lives. You have. I respect you for that. So have I, and I deserve your respect back. I’m the sum of my experiences combined with my choices. I’ve overcome and grown, and I’m better for it. I’m happy with how far I’ve come, and where I’m going. Everyone has secrets. That includes you, Cade. Don’t probe for mine if you’re not willing to share yours.”
He stared at me for what felt like more than a minute without saying a word. Then he sighed. “Something traumatic did happen.”
I gave him a surprised look. I hadn’t thought he’d go into details, and especially not outside a club in freezing weather. Most men were not great at communication, and I wasn’t expecting him to elaborate or share.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Someday, when you haven’t been drinking and aren’t more obstinate than usual, I’ll tell you what it was.”
He pulled out his phone and called a cab, which was ridiculous since I’d started the ride process fifteen minutes ago before he’d gone caveman. “It should be here in the next ten minutes,” he said, after he got off the phone.
I sat on a bench by the heaters. He sat next to me, his thigh brushing mine. A jolt rushed through me and I trembled at the connection from such an innocent touch.
“What are you even doing here?” I asked. I’d never seen him at a party like this before. He didn’t seem like the party type. At all. And he definitely didn’t seem like the “Masquerade party on Valentine’s Day where debauchery was guaranteed” type.
“Rescuing you, apparently,” he said dryly.
I ground my teeth. “I didn’t need rescuing. We’ve already established that.”
The corner of his lips lifted in a sexy half-smile, and I had to refrain from punching him in the shoulder…mostly because I was worried about what the shoulder punch would do to my hand. He had muscle. A lot of it.
“Seriously. I wouldn’t have guessed this was your scene.”
He shrugged. “I like all different scenes. Experiences, remember? I like to have them.”
I did remember, and was now intensely curious about his past, and what had happened to make him embrace being fearless.
“How did you know it was me?” I asked. “I had on the mask and the wig.”
“Your lips gave you away,” Cade said, his gaze falling to my mouth. “That red. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on anyone else.”
I stared at him, stunned and a little turned on that he’d noticed my lips. I mean, that’s one of the reasons I painted them bright red and covered them in glitter, but still…it was nice to know they’d caught the attention of the person I intended them to.
“I don’t believe that,” I said softly. “You just guessed, which was a little dangerous. You could have hauled any girl out of there, and another girl might have been significantly less understanding than me.”
He sliced his head once to the left. “Wouldn’t have happened. I know exactly who you are.”
My stomach twisted. He’d said it in a way that indicated he really did know who I was. I was about to press further, but he continued talking. “Your lips are the kind of lips that sear into a man’s brain and make him think of every mouth-related fantasy that’s ever existed. They are, without a doubt, completely unforgettable.”
Part of me thought he was exceptionally sentimental and over-the-top, and the other, normal, girly part of me, was preparing to swoon. Because how many men in the world actually take the time to really see a woman, and articulate their feelings like that? Not many. The emotional self-analysis a man would need to work at in order to express himself that way would make most men’s heads explode.
“It’s nice to know I made an impression,” I said, my voice breathy.
“From the very first day I met you.”
“You made quite an impression yourself.”
He kicked his feet out in front of him and leaned back as he grinned. “I’m glad you thought so.”
“Why didn’t you tell me your name?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Seemed more fun not to.”
“But you got my name from the store owner.”
“I did.”
“And didn’t try to contact me for weeks.”
He looked at me from the side, his face a study in amusement. “Because you were expecting me to. You’re used to men falling dick over feet to get your attention. I wanted to be the one who stood out because I didn’t act like a hormone crazed thirteen-year old.”
“It gave me a complex.”
He winced. “That’s not what I intended. I apologize.”
“I thought you were going to kiss me.”
“I thought I was too. It took a colossal amount of restraint.”
A smile played at my lips. “That makes me feel better.”
“That I was in pain?”
“That you wanted me.”
His eyes darkened as they met my gaze and held it, the electricity flowing right between my legs. “Desire has never been a question when it comes to my feelings for you.”
My eyes widened as he scrubbed a hand over his chin. He looked like he was having a serious mental struggle. His lips pursed and finally he said, “I didn’t want this to happen here, but fuck it. I can’t wait.”
His lips met mine in a desperate merging, like I’d been drowning and his essence was giving me the air I needed to survive. A shiver ran from the top of my head to the tips of my toes as his tongue pushed into my mouth and tangled with my own. His arms, corded with muscle, wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him as my hands moved over his back. Maybe it was my current sexual drought, maybe it was his stupid plan not to have sex until we dated, but I’d never felt a connection like I felt with Cade Brett. I wanted him inside of me more than I’d wanted any other man in my entire life.
“Come home with me,” I begged, my breath coming fast and hard, like I’d forgotten to breathe for the duration of our kiss.
He groaned into my ear, one hand moving around the front to caress my breast. He started playing with my nipple and I moaned. He groaned again. I reached down, touching him through his pants. He was hard as a rock, and he was huge. “Come home with me,” I said again. “It will be a night you never forget.”
His hand started to inch up my back as I heard a car pull up. Cade pushed into my mouth hard, then pulled away. “Not yet, B.”
I pushed him off me, my expression angry. I was horny, annoyed, and swiftly realizing that I wasn’t going to get the release I wanted tonight because I was dating a guy who apparently possessed superhero willpower and was an asshole of steel.
“You need to be taught the art of wanting, Brynn.”
“Don’t try to analyze me, Counselor. I understand want more than you know. And disappointment. Wanting is all I dealt with for years. I won’t go through it again.”
He pressed one hand against the door of the car and leaned into me. “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to give us a chance. That means a relationship, and sex. Lots of sex. More than once, and more than you just getting a fix.”
“I can’t promise you that,” I said, angry.
“I’m not asking you to. I’m simply asking for you to try. I want you. For more than one night.”
I tried to stay angry. Part of me still was, but he was blowing everything I’d believed about men out of the water, and I wasn’t sure how to proce
ed. “I’ll think about it,” I said, getting into the car.
On my way home—my tongue gently tracing my lips—I realized that for the first time in my life, a kiss had left me breathless.
Tips and Tits: The Word from Mistress A
Kiss me
Ah, the elusive kiss. It can be rip-your-clothes-off awesome, or it can suck monkey balls. There’s rarely an in-between. You either have the technique and chemistry with your partner, or you don’t. I’ve dated guys who kiss with all the precision and liquid force of a fire hose. It doesn’t matter how enthusiastic you are if you have no form. If you don’t know what you’re doing in the kissing phase, chances are high you have no clue when it comes to the rest of your partner’s body. No one wants that, and regardless of your gender, your kisses are being judged. Every dreamy-eyed romantic has that kiss. They’re probably thinking about it right now. Maybe it’s from a book, a movie, a scene they watched play out in real life and wished they were participating in. Mine is from The Return of the King. Then I watched the extended edition with the background info about the kiss and it almost ruined it for me. Almost. I try not to think about that truth bomb. Let’s get down to why this kiss just does it for me…and pretty much every other woman on the planet. Aside from the fact that dirty-haired Aragorn is gone in the scene and they’ve cleaned him up horribly—bring back the dirty!—the scene is practically doctorate-level kissing. Aragorn hasn’t seen his soul mate for months. Last he checked, she was an elf on death’s door. Yeah, way not cool he hasn’t checked on her in a while, that bit does not a romance hero make, but he gets a pass for being busy helping to save the world. When Arwen shows up at Aragorn’s coronation, moves that flag and he sees her, every woman I’ve ever watched the scene with gives a collective gasp. I still gasp. Every. Single. Time. Here’s the thing about girls. We all want to be desired. We want to be the object of your fantasies, and we want you to want to fulfill all of ours. We want you to let us know that, with words and more importantly, actions. Actions, like a bomb-ass kiss! We all want a guy who looks at us the way Aragorn looked at Arwen. Like he’d only been taking shallow breaths since the last time he saw her, barely alive, but now she’s there and he’s about to be resuscitated with her lips. Dudes…strive to kiss a girl like Aragorn—doing it with dirty hair gets bonus points. If you do, there’s no telling what you might get in return. Ladies, find a man who makes you feel like a goddamn elf queen.
I wasn’t sure how I was feeling about Cade at the moment, but it included some weird butterflies in my stomach that had been in hibernation for years. I wasn’t pleased they were suddenly bursting from their cocoon, and that it happened around the same time Cade and I kissed.
He’d put me in the cab the night before. I’d begged him to come home with me again, but he had refused, though the regret on his face was obvious. I sighed, thinking about it. It was by far, the best kiss I’d ever experienced. Return of the King level skill, and I didn’t think many men possessed that kind of lip magic. Even thinking of it made my heart, solidly protected in a wall that let no man pass, feel like it was ready to burst. All of my organs were betraying me.
He’d texted to make sure I got home okay, and to tell me he looked forward to our next date. He didn’t mention when that would be, or if he’d be throwing me over his shoulder and abducting me for it as well. I’d decided to wait and see what Cade’s next move was. Normally, I would have been the one making said move, but he’d been calling the shots from day one at the sex toy store with the handcuffs. He clearly had more willpower than I did, and could abstain far longer than me. He had an agenda, and I’d bide my time and follow along until I thought he was ready to make a move, or I got sick of trying to figure out his plans. Gaining the upper hand was not something I wanted to waste energy on at the moment, however.
I’d slept like a passed out drunk girl, and then I’d woken up to this message from Master Z:
If I’d made you feel like an elf queen, you wouldn’t have left without a trace.
I’d stared at that message for longer than I cared to admit, then reread it.
Stared some more, reread it again.
That went on for a good ten minutes.
At some point, I’d had the sense to sit down. The guy I’d danced with, drank with, followed upstairs to the sex room, was Master Z. I had so many questions running through my head I couldn’t even unscramble them all, or begin to answer them. How had he known it was me? He’d never seen me before. I hadn’t even given clues about what I would be wearing. The only explanation I could come up with was that he knew me. Somehow, he knew me, and knew I was Mistress A. Who could he possibly be? I was at a serious disadvantage if he knew my real name, not to mention that it put everything I’d built—personally and professionally—at risk. I hadn’t spent much time trying to figure out his identity, but maybe that needed to change.
Aside from the logistics and questions, there was a niggling stream of thought running through all of my doubts. Master Z was even hotter in person. Way hotter than I’d imagined, and the moments we’d shared during the sex party were pretty damn epic as well. I’d wanted to see the guy without his clothes. If I’d known it was Master Z, I wouldn’t have freaked and run out of the orgy faster than rabbits screwing. I would have stayed there and considered doing some screwing of my own. Why hadn’t I suspected him? I remembered a fleeting thought had flashed through my mind, like ‘what if this is Master Z’, and then I’d quickly pushed it out so I wouldn’t be saddled with the guilt I was feeling over my conflicting emotions for Cade and Master Z. The brain is excellent at helping with denial when you don’t want to look at things too closely.
Once I regained my composure after reading Master Z’s text, I went downstairs, opened Syd’s leftover stash of sugar cookies, and started to inhale. I’d steadily been eating myself into a daze ever since. It wasn’t like me at all. Not in any way, shape, or form. At least, not in the past five years. I was an emotional eater. For a long time, I hadn’t been aware of that fact. But when I’d finally realized it, I’d shut that shit down. Now my life consisted of non-fat, no sugar, and extremely limited carbs. I basically lived on rabbit food and protein. I wasn’t saying it was healthy. I’d gone from one extreme to another, and like Cade had accurately and infuriatingly pinpointed, I’d switched sugar for sex. But sex at least burned calories. I’d accepted deprivation and unhappiness as part of my diet.
I was on the couch, the Tupperware container of cookies on my lap, with HGTV on when Syd came home. I barely registered her presence as I stared blankly at the screen.
“Hey!” Syd said, dropping her stuff on the table by the door.
I mumbled a noise that was meant to come out as “hi” but through the cookie crumbs in my mouth, came out sounding like a disgruntled Ewok instead.
I saw Syd move slowly into my line of sight until she was standing right in front of me, blocking my view. I didn’t care. It’s not like I was actually watching TV. And I’d seen this one anyway. They totally picked the wrong house and were going to go over budget on renovations. Syd was holding a coffee. I eyed it, envying her morning beverage and wishing I had my own. Syd’s own eyes were huge with shock, then immediately softened to concern. “You’re eating cookies.”
I nodded, grabbing another one from the container and taking a bite. It tasted like heaven and bliss. I had no idea what number this cookie was, but I guessed I was getting close to the double digits of eating my feelings.
“Sugar cookies, Brynn,” she said slowly. “With frosting.”
She was saying these things like she thought I wasn’t aware of the sugar, butter, and carb content. I knew what they contained. “Yep.”
“You’re holding the entire box.”
I nodded, agreeing again. “It’s an eat-your-feelings kind of day.”
“I never see you eat anything like this.”
“Nope. And I’d never eat it in front of anyone else. That’s why I’m home. On the couch. You won’t judge m
e, though, so it’s okay.”
Syd pursed her lips, and I could tell she was working up to a rant. “I hate that. You’d never see a guy forgo dessert in public, or not finish it for fear of judgment. Why do we do that as women? If you want a cookie, pie, or a piece of cake, you can eat it! Eat the whole damn cake if you want! And you don’t have to feel bad about it!”
I sliced my head up and down once. “Thanks for the permission.”
I heard her growl. Syd had strong opinions, and wasn’t afraid to share them. If there was any injustice in the world, she’d comment on it. I was the same way, I just had issues with food.
She sat next to me on the couch, attempting to move my cookie box and get my attention. I had a death grip on the sucker. She finally gave up. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m having guy issues.”
“With Cade?” she asked.
“He’s one of them.”
She blinked. “Who’s the other?” She sounded offended that she didn’t already know.
I wrinkled my nose. “Master Z.”
Her jaw dropped. “Master Z, as in the Master Z?” Her tone increased in pitch with each word.
“Same one.”
“You met him?”
I nodded.
“Last night?”
I nodded again.
Her eyes were huge. “How was it?”
“Memorable, to say the least.” I finished my cookie, and thought I should really stop eating them, but they were delightful, and each bite helped me repress my feelings.
Syd blew out a sigh and took a sip of her coffee.
“Kissed Cade, too,” I said.
“What?” she yelled, spitting her coffee all over her clothes and the floor.
“He was there. Recognized me. Hauled me out of the club when he thought I was drunk. I wasn’t. I’d only had a couple of drinks, and I’d been chasing each one with water, but he’s bossy and paranoid.”
She went into the kitchen and grabbed a towel, then came back to clean up the coffee mess. “I’m glad he decided to go. Someone needs to be at parties with you and have your back.”
Chasing Brynn (A Tempting Novel Book 2) Page 17
