All or Nothing

by Kendall Ryan

  “What?” Emmy asked.

  “Nothing. Let’s go back out there before Ben sends in a search party after you.”

  “He’s not that bad!” She smiled. We both knew he was, but she loved him and all his possessive, dominant ways too much to argue.

  We rejoined the guys at the table and finished our coffees. Braydon kept quiet and sipped his drink, every once in a while lifting his blue eyes to mine. I pretended not to notice. Ben checked his watch and announced they needed to get going if they were going to make their flight. I was getting used to her busy travel schedule, but still, the idea of not seeing Emmy for a month was not something I looked forward to.

  We gathered on the sidewalk for hugs and farewells, and all too soon Emmy and Ben were whisked away by their driver to head to the airport.

  Braydon turned to me and smiled. “Shall I walk you home?” he asked.

  “No.” So much for manners and pleasantries. I knew if I gave him an inch, he’d take a mile.

  “Afraid you’ll invite me up?” He grinned, tucking his hands inside his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

  “No. I just don’t want you knowing where I live. How do I know you’re not a creeper?”

  His face turned serious, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “You can trust me, Ellie. I’d never do something you didn’t want. And I’d take care of you, you know.”

  I nodded. One second we were playful and sarcastic; the next he was turning the tables on me, deepening the conversation to places I couldn’t let myself go. “I’d rather just be alone,” I murmured.

  He nodded, watching my closely. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. Enjoy your day, kitten.” He turned and strolled away, leaving me watching his strong back and the delectable way his muscles moved under his T-shirt. With one hand still stuffed in his pocket, his other pulled out his cell phone. He no doubt had a bevy of girls on his contacts list, ready and waiting to warm the spot in his bed that I refused to take. Which was exactly as it should be. I needed to move on from my little Braydon adventure.

  3

  The following days at work dragged by at a snail’s pace. I’d worked hard to become a microbiologist at a pharmaceutical firm in Manhattan, and most days it was rewarding. I studied living organisms and watched how they reacted to different stimuli. The last several days, though, I’d felt more alone than ever. Sitting in my windowless lab, I grew lonelier and bitter. Emmy was away for a month in Tahiti. I had no man, no prospects, and not even a pet to snuggle with at night.

  On the way home to Queens I stopped to pick up my favorite Mexican food from Mucho Amigo, hoping it would cheer me up. After carrying the Styrofoam containers to my fourth-floor apartment, I kicked off my shoes and placed my food on the coffee table. My loneliness was nothing a spicy chicken enchilada couldn’t fix. I hoped. I checked my personal email messages on my phone while I grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge. An email from Emmy entitled EMERGENCY caught my attention.

  Ellie,

  Hoping you can help. We just received a call from the building superintendent that there was a water-main break in our building. They’ve stopped the leak, but he said our apartment flooded. I’m hoping you can go to our place ASAP to dry out our wet belongings so we don’t come home to a mold infestation. We have plenty of towels on hand to dry up the place. Use whatever you need. I’m so sorry, but please know we appreciate it!

  Thank you!

  xo,

  Emmy Shaw

  P.S. How much do I freakin’ love signing my new last name?!

  Son of a—! There went my relaxing dinner plans. I stuffed my uneaten dinner in the fridge, grabbed my purse and keys, then scurried off for Ben and Emmy’s, back in Manhattan, double-checking that I still had their key on my key ring as I fled down the stairs, the appetizing scent of my enchiladas fading in the distance.

  Their apartment was pitch black when I arrived. The power must have been shut off when they’d gotten the leak. Great. I felt along the wall and made my way into the kitchen. I’d been here half a dozen times, but not enough to know the place by feel alone in the absolute darkness. I pulled out my cell phone and used the meager light to guide me. Locating a couple of candles and a lighter inside a junk drawer, I instantly felt calmer with the low, flickering flames illuminating the dark, eerily silent apartment.

  I surveyed the damage, carrying a candle out in front of me. The living room rug squished under my feet. Not a good sign. The bedroom, home office, and bathrooms seemed unaffected. The damage seemed to be centered in the living room, where everything, including the couch and throw pillows, were damp. Great. How did I get a large sectional out of the apartment by myself? This was just fucking fantastic.

  A scrape of metal outside the door caught my attention. The door handle jiggled once, then twice, and a man’s voice cursed. I’d locked the door behind me, but someone was clearly trying to get in. I’d seen too many scary movies with a girl alone in the dark in an unfamiliar place. Every hair on my body stood on end, and my hands shook with fear as I darted for the kitchen and drew a knife from the butcher’s block. The door opened and I sprung forward, the knife out in front of me.

  “Holy fuck!” the man swore loudly, guiding my knife-wielding arm away from his midsection and pinning me to the wall. “Kitten? Is that you?”

  “Braydon?” I asked, peering at the handsome intruder in the faint light.

  “Yeah. It’s me.” He turned me to face him, still holding my arm. “If I release you, you promise not to stab me?”

  “Braydon! Stop it. Of course. I thought you were a serial killer.”

  He removed the knife from my grasp and set it on the nearby console table beside Ben’s door. “Still, let’s set this over here until you’re feeling less stabby.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I got a call from Ben. About the flood.”

  “I got an email from Emmy.”

  We watched each other for a few heartbeats in silence. Being near him again in the darkened, silent apartment sent a rush of awareness skittering over my skin. I remembered how his full mouth felt on mine, the insistence and gentleness of his kiss. I was glad the room was too dim for him to notice my cheeks turn pink and my hands begin to shake.

  “You okay?” He reached out a hand to steady me, gliding it along my upper arm.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I just . . . got a little light-headed. The power’s off and you scared me.”

  “I’m sorry, kitten,” he whispered, the deep timbre of his voice soothing me.

  “It’s fine.” I turned away from him, unwilling to let myself get sucked into his orbit. Yet again. The other night was embarrassing enough. I’d come undone so easily for him. Good thing he didn’t know that no man had ever had such a powerful effect on me.

  “How bad is the damage?” he asked, following me into the living room.

  “It’s mostly centered in the living room. I think the couch is ruined. And the dining room floor’s a little wet, too.”

  “Cool. You want some wine?”

  Cool? I spun around to face him. He’d ventured into the kitchen and was raiding their wine cabinet. What the hell?

  “I can’t see what’s what in the dark. How picky are you?”

  “Um . . .” Was he insane?

  “White or red?” he asked.

  “We shouldn’t. We’re here to help, right?”

  “Oh, we definitely are. I’m ordering us a pizza, too. You hungry?”

  “Starving, actually,” I admitted, my stomach grumbling at the mere mention of food and the thought of the uneaten enchilada in my fridge at home. Mmm, pizza sounded fantastic. “What about cleaning up?” I asked, looking from him back to the soggy living room.

  Braydon shrugged. “I’ll call someone to come remove the couch, rug, and whatever else tomorrow . . . but since they lured both of us here, I think we should relax and have something to eat. Ben has the best wine collection, too. He gets cases of this shit flown in from Italy. He�
�s friends with the owner of a vineyard outside of Milan. Trust me, you’ll want some.”

  I watched as he set two wineglasses and a bottle on the counter and began pulling open drawers in search of a corkscrew.

  “It’s in here.” I pulled open the third drawer on the right and produced the fancy compressed opener I’d seen Emmy use.

  “Sexy and talented. Thanks.” He took the device from me and quickly opened the bottle, pouring a healthy measure into each of our glasses. “To water-main breaks.” He lifted his glass to mine.

  I smiled at him, feeling the tension and stress of my day melt away just from his closeness. He had one of those magnetic personalities; he was so laid back, like nothing ever bothered him. I found it refreshing and extremely intoxicating. I could use a dose of that in my life. I was wound so damn tight most of the time. I took a sip of the wine and felt it warm a path down my throat and into my belly.

  “Since the sofa is out, shall we lounge in the bedroom?” He winked.

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said with a snort.

  “Why, gorgeous?” He leaned in close, brushing his nose along my jaw and inhaling slowly. “Afraid of what might happen?”

  I rolled my eyes and followed him to the bedroom. Braydon situated candles on the dresser and bedside tables, providing a nice glow for the room. “What do you like on your pizza?”

  Honestly, I wasn’t picky when it came to pizza, but I blurted, “Sausage and extra onions.” That would ensure I wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him again later. I’d have breath from hell, thanks to those toppings. Genius, Ellie. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

  He shot me a curious glance.

  While Braydon called in our order, I sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to feel too out of place, alone with a man I’d unabashedly got it on with last weekend, sitting on my friend’s bed in their dark, utterly silent apartment.

  He kept our wineglasses filled and thankfully the conversation flowed as well. We sat cross-legged on the bed, sharing an entire large pizza and two bottles of wine. And he was right. Ben had the best wine.

  “So . . . do you like being a model?”

  He nodded, taking another bite of the pie. He hadn’t complained once about my choice in toppings. Smart man. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”

  “Do you travel a lot?”

  He shook his head. “New York’s my biggest market. I tend to do a lot of print work and not as much of the international stuff, like Ben does.”

  Good to know. I could never handle being with a man who traveled that much. Not that I should even be entertaining such thoughts. Braydon was never going to be mine. I blamed the errant thought on the wine.

  Once I was thoroughly full and tipsy, I fell back against the mountain of pillows piled at the headboard. I was full and nicely buzzed—an altogether pleasant combination. “I could stay here forever.” Oops. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  Braydon lay down next to me, bringing his palm to my cheek, his thumb gliding along my cheekbone. “You’re awesome, you know that?”

  “How so?” I mumbled.

  “You’re so chill, so easy to be around. You’re not afraid to be yourself. Fuck, you’re not afraid to eat more pizza than I did.”

  I slugged his shoulder lazily. “Hey! Way to make me feel self-conscious.”

  “I’m just impressed, that’s all.” He grinned his beautiful lopsided grin, which lit up his whole face. The one that I was powerless against. Dammit.

  “Don’t do that.” I squished his cheeks between my thumb and forefinger.

  “What?”

  “Flash that panty-dropping grin at me.”

  He chuckled, low and deep in his throat. “Most girls like that, kitten.”

  “I’m not most girls.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Oh yeah? What else did you notice?”

  “Hmm.” His thumb stroked my jawline softly. It felt incredible. “How good you taste. Your scent. The way your body feels when you come. How it felt when you dug your hands into my hair.”

  My body responded to his voice by breaking out in chill bumps, my heart thumping quickly in my chest. His way with words was too much. He was too bold. Too confident. My poor libido couldn’t take it.

  “What do you remember?” he whispered softly.

  A thousand images flashed through my brain. Braydon’s hands skimming up my thighs. My panties dropping to the floor. His hands on my hips as he guided me into the stall. His tongue sliding against mine. The way his stiff tuxedo felt against my hands, and his soft hair between my fingers. “Your, um, pretty blue eyes and messy hair,” I croaked.

  He smiled widely. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  He leaned toward me slowly, giving me the chance to pull away. Only I didn’t. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine again. I let my eyes drop closed and awaited contact. He didn’t disappoint. His soft, full mouth pressed slowly to mine, his lips damp and parted. Our tongues touched once, twice, as he kissed me slowly. It made me want more. Pushing my hands into his hair, I angled my mouth closer, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue swept against mine, dancing so knowledgeably and intimately that I was lost to him.

  He pressed down on me, guiding me to the mattress so he could move on top of me. Suddenly realizing whose bed we were on, I pushed against him. This was wrong. “Stop, we can’t.”

  “What’s wrong, kitten?” he murmured against my neck, pressing damp kisses along the column of my throat.

  “This is Ben and Emmy’s bed.” I pressed a palm flat against his chest, putting some distance between us.

  He looked around like he was noticing our surroundings for the first time. Then he rolled off me and we lay side by side. “Let me take you home then.”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. This just isn’t me.”

  He pressed a palm to my cheek, giving it a careful pat.

  “I didn’t mean to lead you on. I just can’t do this.”

  His thumb lightly rubbed my cheek and his other settled against my hip. “You had fun the other night, right?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “Let me ask you something.” He hesitated just a moment, his thumb lightly caressing my skin. “You feel this between us, right? This . . . connection?”

  I blinked at him, refusing to answer. Of course I did. I’d be dead not to.

  “We owe it to ourselves to give in to this. It’s not always like this, you know? This chemistry we have. And I know you feel it, too.” He swallowed, continuing to watch me. “I know you’ve sworn off men, so I’m not asking for anything in return. No commitment. No strings. Just us. Exploring this. Giving in to this sexuality between us.”

  Original. A man who wanted casual sex without any chance of commitment. “Are you high? What in the world makes you think I’d be interested in that type of arrangement?”

  His eyes locked on mine. “You can’t deny the chemistry between us. Imagine how good it will be when we fuck.”

  I inhaled swiftly, biting my lip to keep from whimpering.

  Braydon continued, “Sex and intimacy is a physical need. An ache all of us have. I could fulfill that for you.”

  I remained silent while I contemplated his words. On the surface they made sense. I had physical needs. My vibrator usually satisfied those. For the most part. Sort of. But Braydon was gorgeous. And funny. And sexy. And he certainly wasn’t cut out to be my Mr. Right, so there’d be little harm in indulging in whatever this was with him. Right?

  “One taste wasn’t enough, kitten,” he growled.

  Our eyes connected and I searched for meaning behind his proposal. Why did he want me? And why did he want sex but not a relationship? What was that wounded look he worked to cover with his sexy bravado?

  I knew this was wrong on so many levels. This was Braydon, male model and player extraordinaire. He was so far out of the realm of anyone I’d consider dating. But even as the thoughts tumbled inside my head, I kn
ew that wasn’t what this was. He wasn’t asking to date me. And just once, I wanted to do something crazy. Act on my body’s hidden desires for a man so devastatingly beautiful I’d want the lights on during sex—cellulite be damned—just so I could watch him come apart. I wanted to be naughty. To have an adventure that I’d remember fondly for years to come. And Braydon seemed all too happy to oblige me. Maybe it was the wine that had left me hazy and warm, but his idea didn’t sound that bad.

  He mistook my silence for acquiescence and leaned in to kiss me again, his lips softly molding to mine, then growing more demanding as the intensity between us ramped up. My arms circled his neck, my fingers roaming into his hair, and I pressed my body to his. His hips pressed to mine and I felt his heavy erection nudge against my belly. I pulled back just a fraction.

  “Bray . . .” I breathed, pressing a palm to his chest. I didn’t know what I was asking for, but the needy quality to my voice was a dead giveaway.

  “I don’t mean to get you so riled up,” he chuckled.

  “You don’t.”

  His fingers pushed my hair back from my face and remained buried in my hair, lightly massaging my scalp. “I can see your pulse fluttering in your neck, the blush coloring your chest. I excite you.”

  “You scare me,” I admitted softly.

  “You want me to fuck you. To teach you the ways a man can pleasure your body.”

  I sucked in a breath and held it, shocked by his words. He did excite me. Possibly more than any man had ever before.

  I couldn’t believe I was actually considering this—hanging on his every word. This wasn’t me. But after a string of bad first dates, lousy sexual episodes, and so many run-ins with my vibrator that I needed to replace the batteries—his offer was intriguing. I couldn’t look away. His deep blue eyes gazed into mine so adoringly. He was mesmerizing. Utter male perfection.

  “It’s intoxicating knowing how feisty I get you.” He brought his hand to my jaw and glided the back of his knuckles along my cheek. Shivers slipped down my body at the soft contact. No one had stroked my jawline like that before. So gentle, so soft. His touch was addictive.