Finding Trust (Centre Games)

by Natalie Gayle

  “Ahhhhhhhh Brayden.” A long shriek emanated from deep in her throat. The passion in her voice was music to his ears. She inhaled deeply and he figured she was about to voice her satisfaction again when he closed his mouth over hers, muffling some of the sounds.

  He held tightly to her bucking, squirming body. And it was all he could do to avoid embarrassing himself and hold back from joining her. Moments later, she pushed his hand away from her hot dripping centre.

  “Too much,” she managed to get out between spasms.

  He laughed lightly and stroked his hand along her silken side from hip to knee, her warm skin sending tingles through his palm.

  Eventually she settled enough for her breathing to relax and for a level of awareness to descend again. She was blinking in the low light of his bedside lamp.

  “Enjoy that, sweetheart?” He knew the answer but couldn’t resist asking anyway.

  “Umm, yes,” she stammered out. “Thank you.”

  “Pleasure was all mine. Any time, every time, babe.” He meant every word. Nothing was as good as holding Rihanna in his arms: hot, sexy, relaxed, and satisfied. If only he could keep her there.

  She was silent for a moment before she realised what had just happened, and how loud she had been before he covered her mouth with his. Mortification hit. They were no longer alone in the house. She pushed away from him.

  “How could you do that, Bray?” she demanded in a sharp whisper.

  “What?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

  “You know what. I just screamed and we aren’t alone anymore,” she retorted hotly, her voice rising slightly.

  “Oh that…”he said circumspectly, with a hint of a laugh.

  “Brayden, this is soo embarrassing. Having them know we’re together is bad enough. Having them hear us is totally another.” She slammed her palm into the soft top of the mattress.

  “Hear you, baby—not me,” he teased and rubbed his rock hard erection into her leg.

  “That didn’t make things better, Brayden. How am I going to face them tomorrow?” she said with disgust.

  “Easy. Just carry on like nothing ever happened,” was his calm response.

  “But I screamed out—” Before she got to finish her sentence, she was rolled onto her back and pinned to the bed with all that was him.

  “And you’re probably going to scream again in just a minute,” he said, reaching to the bedside table, no doubt seeking a condom. “They’re guys and they know the score. If places were reversed, no way they’d be missing out. So why should we?”

  What seemed like a second later, he was sheathed and burying his long, thick length in her. All thoughts of conversation—or was it arguing?—were erased from her mind as he started to move within her and she fell under his pleasure spell again. What he did to her…her man was magic with his body and hands, but his tongue and his cock? They were something else entirely.

  As he had promised, she came again a short time later.

  And yes, she screamed his name again.

  The only comforting thought she had was that perhaps his grunts and groans of pleasure might just might have been louder.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rihanna walked out to the kitchen a little after seven and found Rory and Quade seated casually at the bench, drinking coffee from more of Brayden’s beautiful hand pottered mugs. Rory shot her a warm smile. Quade merely nodded and did the half eyebrow raise thing she was beginning to associate with him.

  Brayden’s back was to them, flipping eggs and frying bacon at the stove, his shoulders impossibly wide and rippling beneath his navy blue polo shirt. Instead of his customary board shorts or jean shorts, he had a pair of soft denim jeans faded to white in all the right places.

  She walked silently to the bench and pulled out a stool beside Rory, smiling and nodding at both of them.

  Before she even had a chance to plant her backside on the seat, Brayden announced that he knew she was in the room. “Coffee, Rih?” he asked, pouring her a mug before he had even had her answer.

  “Yes please.”

  “Ah, Minky, I think you forgot something.” He looked at her directly, his stare very deliberate.

  She immediately looked down, trying to assess whether she had perhaps left the button on her Capri pants undone or the fly down. Nope, all good. She raised her eyes to him again and he lifted his eyebrows in response.

  “What?” she said finally, not at all sure what he was on about.

  “Get over here, Rihanna. You haven’t said good morning to me yet.”

  She felt the blush rise to her cheeks as she caught the clearly suppressed laughter on the faces of Rory and a hint of a smirk on the chiselled features of Quade. Thoughts of ignoring his request never entered her mind as she slid from the stool, crossed the kitchen floor and stepped into the circle of his arms.

  She tilted her head back to look at him. He immediately closed his warm lips over her mouth and she dissolved into his body at the feel of him against her. A couple of seconds later, he broke from her and tweaked her chin. “That’s a good morning, Rih,” he whispered into her ear, seemingly oblivious of their audience.

  “Do you want fruit and yoghurt or bacon and eggs?” he asked as she made her way back to the stool at the bench, clearly still a little unsteady from their kiss.

  “Umm, I think I might have a bit of both.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her and smiled. “Hungry this morning, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  At that, Rory could contain his laughter no longer and let it roll from his chest. “I’m hardly surprised with all the racket you two made last night. You must have burnt off five thousand calories a piece.”

  Quade’s smirk got bigger behind Rory’s head and his eyes began to twinkle; no doubt this situation was clearly hilarious for a group of tight-knit males.

  If it was possible, Rihanna’s face became even warmer as the blood flowed there, deepening her blush. She bent her head, suddenly fascinated by the pattern on the coffee mug.

  “Knock it off, Rory. You’re embarrassing the hell out of her,” Brayden chastised and playfully flicked the corner of the towel thrown over his shoulder at Rory.

  “You crack me up, mate. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

  “Just remember, guys, what goes around comes around and I can feel your times a comin’.”

  With that, the guys all broke into knowing laughter. Even Rihanna giggled a little.

  Rory turned to Rihanna. “Sorry, sweet, didn’t mean to embarrass you but getting the opportunity to rub the stud’s nose in it was just too good to pass up.”

  She nodded her understanding of Rory’s words. Another one had called him Stud; what did it mean? Was it some reference to his conquests with women or something else? That woman on the phone had referred to him as Stud as well. Her curiosity could handle it no longer.

  “Why do you call him Stud?” she asked.

  She noticed Bray turn around and a hint of alarm crossed his face as he looked directly at Rory and Quade. Something unspoken passed between them. But what, she didn’t know. This was clearly part of the “other life” he mentioned.

  “Well? Or is it top secret, too?” she asked at no one in particular, her tone letting everyone know that she was beginning to get suss to the secret stuff.

  Bray was about to speak when Rory cut him off. “We call him Stud for a couple of reasons. When we first met Bray at uni, he was straight off a horse property and he thought more of his four-legged equine friends than he did of us.” She saw Bray relax a little at Rory’s words.

  “Yeah, he was great with a mare that got stuck in a fence the other day. She immediately stopped struggling and followed him around like a puppy. I’ve never seen anything like it and I’ve been around horses all my life.”

  “That’s Bray for you. Could have done anything with horses and chooses to work with us and moonlight as a rock God,” Rory joked, jumping back slightly when Bray threatened to flick him
with the tea towel again.

  “So what’s the other reason? You mentioned two,” she persisted.

  “She always this sharp, mate?” Quade asked this time.

  “Yep,” was Brayden’s hollow reply.

  “Bugger, you are so not going to be able to get much past her.”

  “Umm, guys, you still haven’t answered the question.” She pushed again, more impatiently.

  “Well, you’ve probably figured it out by now, anyway.” She didn’t really have a clue what he was talking about and the look of confusion on her face must have told him so.

  Rory went on, “He’s always had a way with the ladies.” He paused, clearing his throat, obviously struggling with the next bit…or was he setting up the next joke? she wondered.

  “And rumour has it, he’s incredibly well-endowed,” Rory rushed on, unable to contain the humour of his own joke. He was soon bent over laughing, his arse half falling off the chair.

  Brayden was standing there, a tight smile half splitting his face, shaking his head back and forth in mock disgust. Or was it mortification?

  Even the ever stoic Quade was openly laughing hard at Bray’s obvious discomfort.

  Rihanna looked from one to the other. This sort of carrying on was obviously very normal between them. She didn’t have a clue what to say to those comments.

  “Thanks, guys. With friends like you, who needs enemies?”

  “Just keepin’ it real, mate,” Rory confirmed for him.

  “Yeah, thanks, got it. Remind me again why I’m cooking breakfast for you ungrateful lot?”

  “No idea. But probably because I can’t cook worth shit and Quade’s even worse.”

  “Speak for yourself, asshole. I do just fine in the kitchen.”

  “Since when—” both Rory and Brayden said in unison. It was so easy to see how in tune they all were.

  “Since I had that assignment to Western Australia a few months back. Spent me quite a bit of time in the kitchen with a hot little redhead.”

  “Had to be a woman.” Rory laughed as Bray slid plates laden with eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, and mushrooms in front of them all. Quade passed down neat stacks of buttered toast he had been quietly working on while Bray cooked.

  “Shut up and eat your food. So far, you’ve contributed nothing positive towards breakfast.” Quade glared at him.

  “I’ve contributed heaps.”

  They all looked at him as if to say…what the?

  “I’ve provided the entertainment, like always.”

  “Yeah, at our expense,” Quade said. No missing the surly tone there.

  “Can’t help if you guys just keep handing me material,” Rory continued to joke.

  “Are you guys ever serious?” Rihanna finally asked.

  “Not if we can help it,” was the immediate comeback from Rory.

  Even Rihanna laughed openly at that. She really admired their easy relationship with one another. In fact, she was probably a little jealous. Sure, her friendship was much the same with Jazz, but she had a feeling that this easy camaraderie extended beyond Rory and Quade and probably covered the whole of the team.

  “So how many of there are you in the team?”

  She noted cautious glances flicked between the three of them. Interesting. What was the story there?

  “Or can’t you tell me?”

  “There are twelve of us but we’d prefer you didn’t mention that to anyone,” Bray said quietly. The humour had left the room for the time being.

  “Wow, more of you than I thought.”

  “It can get cosy at team meetings,” Rory offered.

  They ate in silence for a minute or two more. Rihanna picked at her bacon and eggs. The thought appealed to her more than the reality. She really was more of a fruit and yoghurt sort of girl in the mornings.

  Spying her pushing her plate aside, Rory immediately dived for the three strips of untouched bacon and Quade piped up, “The eggs are mine.”

  Rory grudgingly handed over the uneaten eggs.

  Rihanna was stunned. Sure, she knew families often did this sort of thing but a bunch of guys?

  Brayden picked up on her surprised reaction and offered, “You’ll get used to it, Rih. I did warn you they’re different. Fighting over food is just one of their quirks. If you’re finished, let’s roll.” He offered her his hand to help her from the stool.

  “Go get ready, Rih; we’ll leave in five. I just want to have a word with these two before we head off.”

  Feeling brave, she brushed her lips against his cheek as she walked out. The heat from his eyes felt as if it was burning through her tailored shirt. She could stand it no longer and turned back to him just before she headed down the hall. He rewarded her with a sexy wink. Her heart did a little flip-flop.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brayden eased the Porsche 911 into the park beside the front door. He’d decided to take it today and enjoy his toy on the motorway. Rihanna looked sensational, relaxed back against the black leather seats. The car park, he noticed, was almost empty. Probably to be expected at this time of year. Rihanna went to go for the door and he immediately put a hand out to stop her.

  “Remember, Rih. Wait for me to come around and get you out. Same as last time. I don’t know these guys. They’re supposed to be legit but I’m not taking any chances until we know more.”

  “Okay. I’ll be glad when all this cloak and dagger shit is over.” She huffed. He knew it was as much from worry as from frustration.

  He came around the car and helped her out. The sliding outer doors opened as they approached the entry. Inside, the foyer was cool, the air-conditioning clearly set a little lower than normal. He approached the glass floor-to-ceiling fronted reception area. A small hole cut stylishly in the glass allowed items to be passed through.

  A rent-a-cop in a grey security uniform looked up from his morning paper, a half-finished coffee at his elbow.

  “Can I help you?” the rent-a-cop asked, clearly not really interested in helping.

  “We’re here to see Dr Sullivan and Dr Matthews.”

  “Are they expecting you?”

  “I believe so. Tom Anderson set up the meeting.” Rent-a-Cop’s demeanour immediately changed and suddenly he did in fact look as if he was interested in helping them as he reached for the phone. It never failed to amaze Brayden just how much pull—or was it fear—the boss could muster in certain circles.

  “They’ll be right down to meet you,” he said as he passed a couple of visitors tags across and turned a sign-in register around for Bray to sign.

  “Just wear these and I’ll buzz you through to the conference area.” He motioned for them to head toward yet another set of very heavy steel sliding doors that were opening as they approached.

  Brayden guided her through. As the doors closed, two men rounded the corner into the corridor that clearly had meeting rooms of all sizes shooting off from each side.

  Brayden sized them up as they approached. The middle-aged one with the pointy face and greying hair and beard had to be Sullivan. He was tall, thin to the point of scrawny, and had the stereotypical brown shoes, brown slacks, and horrid button-down shirt complete with the standard issue plastic pocket protector. He had flashed an uneven but friendly smile.

  The other one, Matthews, was late twenties, medium height and had wild dark brown hair that stuck out from his head in a series of ringlets. He wore a T-shirt that did little to disguise his paunch. It was the tour shirt for some indie group that Brayden thought had absolutely no talent. Topped with the tight black jeans that had now faded to a dirty grey colour, the outfit screamed wannabee cool but oh so not. His eyes had immediately tracked to Rihanna, sizing her up. That alone was enough to make Brayden have to supress a snarl from crossing his lips. Instinctively, he moved closer to her.

  Sullivan moved closer, extending his hand to them. “Good morning. You must be Brayden and Rihanna. Tom called yesterday and said he was sending you both.” The customary handsh
akes were exchanged. Bray’s temper ratcheted up another notch as Matthews held her hand just a little longer than necessary.

  Sullivan opened a door to one of the conference rooms and ushered them inside. “Please come this way.”

  Matthews walked ahead of Rihanna into the room and Bray made a show of seating Rihanna on the side of the table that would allow him the most room to move and easy access to the exit. He hated being trapped in rooms with no easy escape. He eased his long frame into the chair beside hers.

  Sullivan seated himself and put the folder he was carrying neatly in front of him. “Coffee will be here in just a minute. I took the liberty of ordering a fresh pot.”

  “Thank you, Dr Sullivan, that’s very considerate of you,” Rihanna acknowledged with perfect manners.

  “Not at all, my dear. Please call me Jerry. Dr Sullivan is far too formal.”

  Not to be outdone, Matthews said, “And I’m Jeremy.” Typical, thought Brayden. Another Rihanna worshipper, only this one was a total try hard wannabee.

  Rihanna offered him a tight smile. The “back off” vibe was beginning to stream from her. It amused him to see how well she had perfected that demeanour. He wondered how long it would take for Matthews to get the hint.

  “Let’s get started, shall we?” Sullivan looked towards Rihanna for acknowledgement and she returned his suggestion with a nod.

  “Well, as you probably know, we’ve been doing a bit of research into the Hendra virus as well.”

  “Actually, I don’t. Please fill me in,” Rihanna interrupted, clearly not one to pretend she knew when she didn’t.

  “Oh, sorry, how silly of me. I just assumed…” Sullivan trailed off.

  “Well, from what I understand, you and your father have made considerable progress towards developing a vaccine for horses to prevent the virus from having the ability to be transported through the animal and excreted in mucus and other body fluids.”

  “That’s correct,” she stated, not offering or denying any more at this stage.

  “Well, what we have been doing is slightly different. We’ve been looking at how the virus could be captured and stabilised in other mediums rather than horses or bats.”