All or Nothing

by Kendall Ryan

  “What do you want?” I found my voice, however shaky.

  “Me and you. Pleasing each other. Giving in to this.”

  “You just want to sleep with me?” I wanted to hear him say it. I doubted he was offering to take me out and wine and dine me.

  “Among other things.”

  “Like a one-time thing?” I held my breath for his response.

  “Once wouldn’t be enough, and we both know that.”

  Oh. The ache between my thighs intensified.

  “Let’s not overthink this.” His fingers whispered against my skin.

  I sat up on the bed, needing to distance myself from his sweet touch before I did something I might regret. I drew a deep breath, trying to clear my head from the wine and simultaneously ignore the ache between my legs that his presence alone inspired. “You’re suggesting a friends-with-benefits type of arrangement?” I asked, pressing my fingers to my temples. I wished I hadn’t drunk so much. My brain felt numb and heavy.

  Braydon sat up beside me, watching my reaction. After a moment, he reached for his glass of wine and took another sip. “Hmm.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “I prefer something more original. Pleasure pals . . . bed buddies . . .”

  I smiled despite the insane conversation we were having. “Fuck friends.”

  “If you like.”

  “I don’t know . . . I don’t think I can do that. . . .” I said softly.

  He took my hand. “Don’t answer tonight. Let me take you home and tuck you into bed.”

  I nodded. Sleep sounded heavenly. I’d had too much wine. Too much pizza. Too much hormone-fueled conversation with a devastatingly handsome man. My body wasn’t used to this.

  “What time do you get off work tomorrow?”

  “Six,” I responded without thinking.

  “I’ll come by at seven with dinner. We’ll discuss our arrangement then.”

  Our arrangement? “Okay,” I agreed, sleepily, wondering what in the world I was actually agreeing to.

  • • •

  Someone had stolen my brain and replaced it with a pile of goo. I couldn’t concentrate at work. I could barely form cohesive sentences. I’d dropped several petri dishes, spilled a specimen, and contaminated another sample I was working with. I’d consumed way too much wine for a Wednesday night and had woken up late and hung over. I’d gotten ready in a hurry, and as a result my hair was flat and dull and the dark circles under my eyes made me look like a zombie on crack. At lunch, I’d been so distracted, I’d picked at my food and dropped a huge glob of tuna salad on my shirt. Which led to me spending twenty minutes in the restroom trying to clean the stain, all while cursing myself out that I’d eaten smelly old tuna fish for lunch when I was supposed to see Braydon that night. I’d have to get home a little early to change my shirt and brush my teeth. Maybe touch up my makeup. And shave. Oh God, this was exactly why he wasn’t healthy for me. He sent my brain into overdrive. I hadn’t felt butterflies like this since I was in tenth grade and got felt up for the first time.

  I’d replayed in my head what I would say to him a million times. Of course I’d refuse his offer. I was flattered, sure, but I couldn’t actually go through with it. I’d just have to make him understand. Braydon, though I’d known him only a short time, could be very persuasive. And that’s what scared me most. I couldn’t let myself get sucked into his world.

  I fumbled with the dial on my microscope, cursing loudly when I couldn’t get the damn thing to cooperate.

  “Are you okay?” my boss, Lydia, asked. She was looking at me with a concerned look, her wire-rimmed glasses balancing at the end of her nose. Lydia was a great boss. Smart as a whip, patient, and a great advocate for our department to receive the funding and training we needed to perform. I loved working for her. But we never discussed our personal lives. Ever. Aside from a simple “How was your weekend?” And I didn’t plan to start now. “You seem distracted today,” she said.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. I focused on the task in front of me, hoping she’d let it drop.

  “I’ve worked with you long enough to know when something’s wrong.” She removed her glasses and set them on the table beside her. Her brown eyes crinkled in the corners as she gave me a sympathetic smile. “You can talk to me, you know.”

  I frowned and rubbed my forehead. I had a pounding headache from thinking about this arrangement with Braydon. “It’s nothing. Just guy problems.”

  “Ah. I see.” She nodded, her eyes weary and wise, like she’d been around long enough to know all about such matters. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I inhaled deeply and released it slowly. “No. But thank you for the offer.” How did you tell your boss that a sexy male model wanted to become your . . . what did he call it again? Oh yeah, pleasure pal. No, I wouldn’t be explaining that to my boss. I wanted to keep my job, thank you very much.

  She replaced her glasses and patted the back of my hand. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Elizabeth. You’re a very smart girl.” She was one of the only people who called me Elizabeth and not Ellie.

  I smiled weakly. I didn’t feel so smart. I felt as if I was back in high school, complete with sweaty palms and a stomach full of nerves at the thought of the football captain wanting to ask me out. Scratch that. Braydon didn’t want to ask me to go steady. He just wanted me naked and ready in the backseat of his car.

  Shit.

  These thoughts weren’t helping me focus. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I had to help a friend with a leak in her apartment.” At least that part was true. Crap. Hopefully Braydon followed through on his promise to remove the soggy belongings and have the apartment aired out. Crappy friend that I was, I hadn’t thought about that again since last night.

  Lydia nodded. “Okay. Well, if you need to leave a little early this afternoon—recharge your batteries—you be sure to do just that.”

  “Thank you. I think I will.” Another reason why I loved my boss.

  I thought getting home early would be a blessing. Instead it just meant I had more time to sit around worrying before Braydon was due. I felt caged up inside my apartment, so after cleaning every room thoroughly I decided to change into a sports bra, T-shirt, and shorts and go for a jog. I figured I’d still have time to shower and get ready before he arrived. Pushing my muscles into action, with loud music blaring in my ears, was exactly what I needed. I felt sluggish at first—too many indulgences last night—but soon found my rhythm and pounded out three miles. When I arrived back home, my head was slightly clearer. Maybe I could do this with Braydon. Give in to my body’s yearnings. Have a fun adventure. You only live once, right?

  I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it and let the water beat down on me. I scrubbed myself thoroughly, shampooed and conditioned my hair, and shaved my legs for good measure. I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, refusing to primp for him. Refusing to pretend this was some type of date. He’d made it clear that we wouldn’t be dating.

  When Braydon arrived promptly at seven, my heart jumped into my throat. I answered the door and found him standing there, dressed casually in jeans and an old band T-shirt. His style was cute. Relaxed and vintage. I liked it. A lot.

  “Hi,” I said, pulling open the door wider.

  “Hiya. Can I come in? I have Thai food.” He held up a brown paper sack. “Of course it occurred to me that you might not like Thai, but you seem like an adventurous girl, so I went with it.”

  “Thai is fine. And please, come in.” I motioned him forward and led him into my tiny kitchen. After gathering plates, utensils, and drinks, we carried the whole lot to the small round table in my breakfast nook.

  “Nice place,” he commented, looking around. I’d never officially given him a tour, but I was just trying to avoid that awkward moment when we ended up in my bedroom staring at the bed. I doubted I’d have a witty comeback when he suggested we christen it.

  “Thank you. It’s cozy.”

  Braydon opened each packa
ge and my stomach grumbled as I inhaled the mouthwatering aromas greeting me. There was roast duck, stir-fried vegetables in fragrant curry, sticky jasmine rice, and several different noodle dishes.

  “Did you invite a hockey team over and forget to tell me?” I joked.

  “I wanted to be sure I ordered something you would like.” He flashed those pretty blue eyes at me, and my skin heated. He was thoughtful. That did not help my case against him.

  Thankfully, scooping heaps of food onto my plate provided a good distraction from his prettiness.

  “So, what do you do?” he asked, taking his time to arrange his food artfully on his plate. Gosh, was he going to gift wrap it or eat it?

  “I’m a microbiologist at a pharmaceutical firm downtown.”

  “Shit, seriously? Did you go to school for that?” His mouth hung open, waiting for my answer.

  “Yeah. I have a bachelor’s degree in biology and a master’s degree in microbiology.”

  His eyes widened. “Damn, girl. So, what does a sexy-as-fuck microbiologist do all day?”

  Me? Sexy? I was pretty sure I had curry sauce smeared on my chin. I wiped my mouth with a napkin before answering. “I look at tiny organisms under a microscope. It’s super exciting.” I rolled my eyes for effect. I actually quite enjoyed my job and the challenge of it, but it usually bored people when I went into detail, so I kept it light.

  “Do you get to wear one of those white lab coats?”

  “Yep. Sure do. I examine cell reproduction, run studies on diseases, watch how different bacteria react to stimuli. . . .”

  “Mmm, smart girls are sexy.” He grinned again, flashing me his dimple that I was becoming a teeny bit obsessed with. I took another bite of roast duck to distract myself.

  After dinner, Braydon insisted on helping me load the dishwasher, and then we sat down on the sofa side by side like two nervous teenagers. Actually, I was a nervous wreck, but he seemed calm, cool, and collected, kicking his feet up on the old trunk in front of my couch and throwing his arm across the back of the sofa. He hadn’t brought up anything the entire night about our arrangement. The entire reason he was here, I thought. Instead, he kept up a steady conversation, leaving me waiting in wonder, the anticipation growing more and more with each hour that passed. Seriously, I was not a patient person and the wait was eating me up inside. Was he going to try to make a move on me? Had he changed his mind? Was he still attracted to me? Maybe I should have dressed sexier, curled my hair. . . .

  “So tell me more about this arrangement,” I asked finally, unable to wait any longer. Even if I was going to turn him down, something in me wanted to know what exactly he was proposing.

  Braydon’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Are you ready to discuss that now, miss?”

  I nodded slowly. Had he been waiting for me to bring it up the whole time? Was his silence on the topic meant to drive me crazy? Oh, he was good. He was damn good.

  “What would you like to discuss?” he asked, his voice dropping lower as he turned to face me on the couch.

  “How would it, um, work?” Ugh, why did I sound so breathless? I should tell him and his damn pleasure-pals arrangement to take a hike. But something in me couldn’t. I needed to see where this was headed. I had no self-control when it came to this man.

  “However we want it to. I’d like to see you a few times a week. We could have a meal, like tonight, and then enjoy each other’s company.” Smooth of him. But I’m pretty sure he meant enjoy my vagina. I suppressed a hot shiver and continued watching him.

  “But we wouldn’t be dating. There’d be no commitments.” My heart clenched as I said the words out loud. I waited for him to correct me, to smooth things over, but that didn’t happen.

  “That’s right. No expectations of each other. What I’m proposing is that we give into our baser instincts. Let go of inhibitions and discover each other.”

  I shook my head, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. I pulled in a deep breath and released it slowly. Inside my brain was an extreme game of Ping-Pong. I wanted this, yet I didn’t. I was so back and forth. I held up a hand, needing a moment to think. I’d sworn off men, right? “Excuse me, I’m just having a problem with your gender lately.”

  He continued to watch me closely. “I know what you’re doing. You put up this front, you say that you don’t want a man. It’s only because no one’s been able to properly take care of you.”

  “And you think you can?” His confidence was a huge turn-on.

  “I know I can. And I will. You just have to let me. Submit to me.”

  I wanted to argue, to tell him I was a strong, independent woman; that I didn’t submit to anyone. But the words lodged in my throat, refusing to budge. “I seriously don’t see what’s in this for me.”

  “You have to feel this between us,” he whispered, his blue eyes shining with his desire.

  I hadn’t felt a connection this deep with someone in a long time, maybe ever, but he couldn’t know that. I stayed quiet and Braydon lifted my hand from my lap, interlacing our fingers and stroking the inside of my palm with his fingertips in featherlight strokes. Every touch from him felt deliberate. I was quickly becoming addicted to every little thing he did. He made my heart flutter. Silly little organ. It didn’t know what was good for it.

  I realized with perfect clarity that my body wanted this. Wanted to have a sexual adventure. And he was the perfect candidate to have a fling with. He was sexy and discreet. As far as I knew he hadn’t breathed a word of our little postwedding romp to Ben or Emmy. And he turned my body into a puddle of hormones. There was no denying that. If I were going to have an affair, why not do it with a man who knew what the hell he was doing?

  He leaned closer, bringing one hand behind my neck and knotting his fingers in my hair. “You want me to kiss you again,” he said, as if it were a statement of fact. But the tenderness in his tone was unexpected and calmed me instantly. It was crazy how one minute he could rile me up with his talk of “discovering” each other, then turn me on just by touching my hand, then reel me into his world so completely that I couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink.

  One thing was certain. I wanted more. I wanted to see where this could go. There was something magnetic about him. His charm. His personality. Shit, his tongue. That was surely illegal in like forty-nine states. I might as well take advantage.

  My disappointing sexual experiences so far had a lot to do with my consideration of his proposal. The few boyfriends I’d had couldn’t have satisfied me if I’d drawn out a treasure map of my vagina with an X-marks-the-spot for my clitoris. Even when the sex had been decent, I’d always craved something more. A man who would take charge. Who knew instinctively what my body craved and gave it to me ruthlessly without me having to ask. I loved the idea of being manhandled a bit. Taken over. The idea alone made me wet.

  My whole life was well ordered, from my daily jogs to my job that was actually an exact science, with rules and standardized processes to follow. No wonder I wanted a dirty, risqué adventure in the bedroom. My body battled with my brain. I shouldn’t want what Braydon was offering. Then again, I was missing both the emotional connection of a serious boyfriend and a satisfying sexual relationship in my life. I knew with Braydon I’d be 50 percent of the way there. Not bad odds.

  “What other questions do you have in that head of yours, kitten?” He stroked the furrowed spot between my eyebrows with his thumb.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I’d never had a pleasure pal, so I was totally at a loss about what to ask next. “Wait.” I sat up straighter. “Will you be, like, dating other girls during this arrangement?”

  “Hmm. Good question.” He set my hand down in my lap. “What do you think?”

  I chewed on my lip. He was asking me? “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not dating anyone else right now, but . . .”

  He shook his head, his eyes locking on mine. “Once I’ve been inside of you, you’re mine. No one else gets to touch you. Do you
understand?” That was ridiculous. We weren’t dating and he wanted to lay claim to me like some dominant alpha male? I was a confident, successful woman. I didn’t play games. So why was my head nodding in agreement to his absurd proposition?

  A slow, easy smile spread across his mouth. “That’s a good girl, kitten. I promise I’ll take care of you.” He pushed my hair back from my face and watched my eyes. He reached for my cell phone and programmed his number in, then called his phone. Smooth.

  “If I can’t have anyone else inside me, as you so eloquently put it, then neither can you.”

  His eyes danced on mine. “No problem. If anyone tried to put something inside me, I’d break their fucking jaw.”

  “Braydon!” I slapped his shoulder playfully. “I mean you’ve got to keep it in your pants, mister. No other girls.”

  His mouth twitched in a smile. “I have quite a sexual appetite, lovely. Are you sure you can handle me?”

  I bit my lip and nodded, heat crawling up my chest.

  “I don’t want to create an imposition for you.” His hand circled my hip, his large fingers reaching all the way to my spine.

  My nipples instantly hardened as my body responded to his nearness and his scent. A mixture of spicy cologne and clean soap. I wasn’t sure what would happen next, but Braydon, ever the gentleman, rose from the couch. “You’re tired. I should probably go.”

  “Oh.” I stood too quickly and suddenly felt light-headed again. His hand on my elbow steadied me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “You’re leaving?”

  His features softened as he gazed down at me. “I can read the indecision all over you. Your body wants this. Your brain isn’t sure.” He already understood me so well, it was impossible to argue. He leaned closer, his lips brushing my neck. “And when I fuck you for the first time, I want you to be certain. I want there to be no questions in your mind. I want you begging me to penetrate you. I want your hand guiding me inside you.” He pulled back to measure my reaction.

  My knees trembled as I reached out to grip his bicep for support. Bad idea. The warm, solid muscle under my hand made me question everything. Should I invite him to stay? See where things went? I chewed on my bottom lip, the words on the tip of my tongue. But he was right . . . I was hesitating, not quite brave enough to take what I wanted. Stupid brain.