Pushing between her shoulder blades to hold her in place, he splayed his big hand across both butt cheeks for emphasis and growled, “Promise me Brynn. Stop fucking around and promise me you’ll keep your doors locked when you’re alone or I swear to God, you’ll find out what a grown-up spanking feels like.”
“Jax, you’re scaring me. Stop.” She sounded genuinely startled and upset. Good. Maybe that would make her listen.
“I’m trying to fucking scare you, baby.” He made sure to put a shit ton of emphasis on the endearment. “It’s for your own damn good too. Don’t make me do this. Promise me Brynn. And mean it—don’t just say what I want to hear to shut me up.”
Something about the angry distress in his voice must have gotten through because she suddenly stopped struggling and went limp on his lap.
“O-okay,” she mumbled. “Okay Jax. Okay. I’m sorry. I promise to be more aware and keep the doors locked.”
“Do you mean it, baby? Are you making a real promise?”
She wiggled slightly and he saw as well as felt her ass tighten up. “Yes. I promise.”
Relief flooded through him. She hadn’t made him smack her ass in punishment. He rewarded both of them by caressing her beautiful backside through the cotton panties. Sober as a judge, he rearranged the sexy dress so she was fully covered again and helped her sit up.
He wasn’t sure what he’d find in her expression but when their eyes locked it was his turn to be startled. She looked as shocked as he was and not just a little bit turned on. He could tell by the smoky intensity in her eyes that she was in unfamiliar territory—something that brought out the primitive man lurking inside him.
“Don’t be angry Jax. I wasn’t thinking and I’m…well, I’m sorry that I upset you. It won’t happen again.” Her voice trailed off to a breathy whisper at the end.
Suddenly and without warning, she grabbed his face and dove onto his mouth, kissing him with a sweet desperation that instantly calmed him. He let her own the kiss, savoring the unexpected sensual apology. Somehow, someway, Brynn had understood that his demons were expressing themselves through his words and actions.
When she was finished assuring him with her lips, she sat back and searched his eyes. “Were you really going to, uh…spank me?”
“Yes.” His answer was swift and precise.
A thousand thoughts were visible in her expression, and he noted and cataloged each one. Either she wasn’t trying to hide her feelings from him or she didn’t realize how easy it was for him to read her. She nodded her head to let him know she understood, blushed and looked away.
It would have been so damn easy to take her then. She wouldn’t put up much of a fight, if any. Just like that first night, he could have her panties around her ankles, only this time with her bent over the table as he slam fucked her from behind. But that wasn’t what he wanted and the realization struck him like a damn sledgehammer. He didn’t want an angry fuck where he pushed his domination of her to the extreme. And he really didn’t want to bury himself in her sweet body while that powerful emotion still pulsed in his brain.
Rising slowly to his feet as she slid from his lap, Jax wrapped her in a solid embrace with his cheek resting on the top of her head. She put her arms around him and held on tight causing relief and something that felt more intimate and personal than anything he’d experienced ever before heat his blood.
They stayed wrapped up in each other for a long time as she relaxed against him. When he felt her stifle another yawn he eased up on the embrace.
Kissing her gently on the forehead he told her, “Go to bed, baby. I know you’re exhausted. I’ll lock up down here before I head out to the loft. And don’t be surprised when you get home tomorrow and find the downstairs bathroom off the grid. I’ll be taking down the wall into the old sewing nook first but don’t worry—there’ll be tarps and shit to keep the mess and dust to a minimum.”
Even though he was trying to pull away, she seemed reluctant to let go. She wanted him to stay, he was sure of it, but Jax needed some space and time to get his head on straight.
“AMY. I’D LIKE YOU TO meet Terry Barnes and Sue Lockwood. They’re in the mentor program at the community college and starting bright and early on Tuesday morning, they’ll be learning the ropes in the kitchen.”
“Why boss, that’s fantastic,” Amy gushed. Smiling at the two new faces in their midst she added, “Welcome aboard Terry,” as she shook the burly twenty-five-year-old’s hand. “And Sue, I love your tattoo,” she smirked with a giggle when shaking her hand.
Brynn cringed inwardly but managed to keep a slight smile on her face. The tattoo had almost put her off the diminutive college student. It wasn’t every day that you came across a girl with an enormous mermaid inked from shoulder to elbow. But hey, whatever floats your boat, she thought.
“Terry worked at a bagel bakery in Philly, and Sue is hoping to start up a cupcake shop when she graduates.”
Relieved to have hit pay dirt with the first students the mentor program sent her way, Brynn was actually looking forward to taking the two under her wing. Sue was about as enthusiastic and personable as a young girl could be, something that would serve her well should she ever go into business by herself, and Terry, although a trifle reserved, had mad skills in the kitchen that she welcomed.
Things were certainly working out and going her way—a welcome respite from the nagging worry and never-ending anxiety over the possibility of losing her beloved house and maybe the bakery too.
With her phone vibrating in the pocket of her apron, Brynn waved off her new employees and asked Amy to show them around the shop and tearoom as she scurried back to the relative calm and quiet in the kitchen. When she pulled her phone out and glanced at the screen she saw that Rhiann had texted and told her to fire up a video chat so they could have a sisterly gab sesh. Talking to her younger sister was usually the highlight of her week although the past few days had given her a whole new perspective on what constituted a highlight. Of course the word climax came to mind from the natural thesaurus in her brain which reminded her that there was nothing like a couple of screaming orgasms and a dead-sexy contractor to give a whole new meaning to those words.
“Ring, ring, big sis,” she heard Rhiann exclaim as they connected via laptop. “How’s the baker boss doing?” she joked.
“Bossy as ever,” Brynn tossed back with a smirk. “You know me. Proprieties must be observed at all times!”
They each chuckled at the old joke. Brynn was known for her sense of decorum and for minding her P’s and Q’s while Rhiann was much more of a button-pusher.
“You look good Rhi,” Brynn insisted with a smile. “The big city must agree with you.”
A hilarious snort of derision mixed with sarcasm exploded through the speakers. “Shut the fuck up. I look like bloody hell and between you and me, the big city blows chunks.”
“Yikes,” Brynn teased. “That certainly doesn’t sound good. Is this a serious ‘blows chunks’ or are you just being cute in a totally raunchy way?”
“Both,” Rhi answered. “You know I excel in the raunchy, inappropriate comeback.” She watched her shrug and make a little moue with her mouth. “But between you, me, and the buns in your oven, New York is quickly coming up on its expiration date.”
Brynn pulled up a stool and sat in front of the laptop on her desk. Looks like this was going to be a serious conversation and not the usual joke fest and non-stop performance of one-liners and terrible puns they usually indulged in. Just like that, she had her big sister hat on.
“Talk to me,” Brynn commanded. “And don’t try to change the subject. You opened this particular floodgate—so out with it. What’s up?”
Rhi sighed, propped her chin in her hand, and looked at the screen with an unusually melancholy expression on her face.
“I’m lonely Brynn. When’re you coming up? Don’t you have a meet ‘n greet at the network soon?”
“That was a nice deflection sweetie,
but I caught it in time. Yes to the damn meeting—something about being included in a judge’s panel for a special they’re putting together. You know I hate being on camera, but it’s good for business so there’s that. Now dial it back a smidge to the ‘I’m lonely’ part. What gives? I thought you were living the dream. A bit too much Prada wearing lately for the devils you work for?”
“Hmmm. Something like that, I guess.”
“And…?”
Brynn felt her anxiety level increase when Rhiann put her face into both hands and growled. It was so unlike her to show weakness or to express any kind of unhappiness.
“Three, two, one, Rhi. Spill the damn beans before I hop on the train and invade your space. Either tell me what’s up or…”
Suddenly Rhi’s head lifted and Brynn saw her expressive green eyes peeking through her fingers. “Liam’s here.”
“Excuse me?” Brynn shouted. “Did I hear you correctly? Liam? As in Liam Ashforth?”
“The very same. In the flesh, no less. And looking like something out of Fifty Shades of Fuck My Life.”
Whoa. Talk about something coming out of left field. Brynn did not know how to react to this piece of news. No wonder Rhi wasn’t herself. Ashforth had been their dad’s work-study assistant when Liam was in grad school. That was what, about seven years ago?
Rhiann had been a wide-eyed coed working on her degree in advertising and marketing at Penn State when Liam appeared in their lives. Their father, a highly respected professor at the college, always had a grad student or two under his wing at any given time.
In Liam’s case, he was a brooding, focused, and motivated go-getter with big dreams and very little support. She recalled that he’d been a scholarship student. He’d gotten through four years of college and graduated with high honors solely on determination and hard work. As a grad student, he was carving out a path that would one day help him break out of the dismal place he came from.
Rhiann, for her part, had been capricious and something of a flibbertigibbet—a mouthful of a word that perfectly described her flighty and whimsical outlook at the time. She’d fallen hard and fast for the serious minded Liam, but he’d rebuffed all of her attempts to get close. At least Brynn thought that was the case—only thing was, at some point something definitely happened between the two of them because practically overnight, Rhiann went from foolish little girl to heartbroken woman and Liam, well…he built a wall so high and so impenetrable that it was impossible to get a read on just what had gone down. Rhi refused to discuss it, assigning Liam Ashforth to the He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Spoken-Of category.
“Jesus Rhi. I don’t know what to say. I mean, are you alright? Can’t imagine the sort of shock you must have felt. What happened? I know New York is a big city and all, but did you two stumble into each other?”
“Well, uh…no. Not exactly.”
Brynn’s mother hen sat up straight and took over the conversation. “Explain.”
Rhi sighed, winced, and rubbed the back of her neck. As far as body language goes, all three were quite telling. Her lips tightened up and turned down slightly when she spoke. “He’s uh, well Brynn, it’s like this. Remember me telling you that the magazine got sold to a big conglomerate?”
Uh oh. Brynn didn’t like where this was going. Not at all. “Yesssss,” she hissed.
“Apparently, Liam Ashforth is the CEO, which in the simplest of terms means he’s my new boss.”
“What the fuck?” Brynn hollered. Remembering where she was, she quickly looked around to be sure no one heard that little mini-explosion erupting from her mouth. “Oh sweetie. No, no, no, no, no.”
Rhi choked out a pained laugh. “Right?”
Making a snap decision, Brynn blurted out, “This weekend Rhi. I’m coming to New York on Saturday. I’ll tell Gwen at the network to schedule my meeting for Monday, okay?”
“Are you sure, sis? I mean, it’s Friday, and Amy says you’re really busy. Can you get away on such short notice?” She sounded concerned but hopeful, and right then nothing short of a Presidential command would keep Brynn from making the trip. Hearing Rhi mention her assistant’s name confirmed Brynn’s suspicions that the two were in regular contact.
“Well, as luck would have it, I just hired two bakery helpers who start next week. The shop is closed on Sundays anyway, and Amy handles the tearoom on Mondays. She can step in and keep things rocking and rolling for one damn day. And besides sweetie, you’re more important than some sticky buns and cupcakes.”
Rhiann looked relieved by her snappy explanation and assurance that it was sisters before business.
“Ummm, speaking of sticky buns and cupcakes, I hear you’ve got your fingerprints all over a particular piece of yummy in the form of some hot guy that Dad maneuvered your way. Care to elaborate?”
Brynn snarled into the camera and frowned. “Amy needs to mind her own damn business.”
“Uh huh,” Rhi chuckled. “That didn’t sound like a denial.”
“Why the hell is everyone meddling in my damn life all of a sudden?” she bit out. “First Nana and that damn marriage thing, then Dad with his ‘all work no play’ mantra and now my own assistant. I mean, c’mon!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Marriage thing? What does that mean?”
Snorting, Brynn bit out a brisk, terse answer. “Oh, what? You haven’t heard? I guess Amy isn’t holding a glass to the wall, then,” she snickered. “Nana made a change to her estate—added a clause that states if I don’t marry, she’ll bequeath the house to that putz Seth Colton.”
“When the hell did this happen?” Rhiann gritted, alarm sounding in her voice. “And does this have anything to do with Dad magically hooking you up with some hottie?”
“Look,” Brynn muttered as she once again glanced around to make sure their conversation was private. “I’ll tell you all about it this weekend, okay?”
“God, Brynn. What the hell is happening? All of a sudden our lives are turning upside down. I sure as shit hope Charlie is faring better. Have you heard from her recently?”
“Not really. Don’t think I could hold it together if she’s falling apart too and besides the weekly email, I know nothing except that Tuscany rocks, she likes to walk barefoot in the morning dew or some such hippie dippy nonsense, and she’s taken a liking to Italian espresso. Look Rhi, I hate to cut this short, but I keep hearing the chimes jingling on the front door. I should go check and make sure Amy’s got things under control. I’ll text you before jumping on the train to let you know my ETA, okay?”
“Thanks sis. Can’t wait to see you. And BTW—make sure to get a good shot of the man in black on your cellphone so I can critique. Got it?”
Brynn was going to kill Amy for letting that piece of information out. “Fuck you, sweetie,” she answered sweetly.
She could still hear Rhiann howling with laughter long minutes after their chat was disconnected.
Just as Jax promised, the dust and mess was kept to a minimum at the house even though an entire wall was now gone and a new section framed out. Brynn was completely astonished at how much work had been accomplished in just one day. Taking in the sight, she wasn’t at all surprised how right he’d been about joining the two small spaces into one. Having a three quarter bath and tons of storage on the first floor was going to make the old house way more functional.
The minute any sort of thought about the house flitted into her thoughts, Brynn found she immediately began dancing on the head of a pin. She’d be damned before she let her cousin get his greedy paws on what she saw as her home. Screw that. There was no way she would go down without one helluva fight. Her initial scheme to hook up with a beard in order to divert Nana’s crazy plot to interfere in her personal life lit up in her thoughts. It was a crazy thing to even consider entertaining, but what was a girl to do when her back was against a wall? It wasn’t like marriage-ready men were hanging off trees like ripened fruit. And besides, she didn’t have the time or the inclination to harvest anyone suitable. No
t that she wanted to, she quickly asserted. Nope. She had to put her foot down and circumvent whatever fuckery her grandmother was cooking up. For a million and one reasons that didn’t need picking apart, marriage just wasn’t going to make it onto one of her lists. Case closed.
Maybe during her New York visit she’d look around and see who might fit the role she imagined for a faux husband. There was always Anthony Turner. He was sweet, funny, and as gay as the day was long. He was also so deeply wedged in the closet that he might actually consider helping her out. Anthony was an up-and-coming on-air host that the network was pushing hard. The ladies loved his suave manners and picture perfect good looks. Brynn had gotten to know him from her dealings with the cadre of foodies and marketing types who had made the once struggling lifestyle channel a mega-star in the network world of food, nutrition, and healthy living.
Taking out her phone, she brought up an app that she used to keep notes and began a new list labeled ‘Beards’. Entering Anthony’s name she added a reminder notification that would buzz her on Monday while she was at the network to look him up and scope him out. There, she thought. She was taking pro-active steps to shut this insanity down before Nana’s plan ruined everything she’d worked so hard for.
Collapsing into a comfy easy chair in the den, Brynn pressed a hand to her tummy when it growled loudly. Damn. She hadn’t stopped for lunch and now her stomach was all but eating itself yet she was too tired to even think about making a decent meal. And worse, the dozen frozen dinners she had on hand all seemed unappealing and sort of meh. Maybe she’d have a cup of tea and go relax in the bath to take the edge off a busy day, but first she should really text Jax and check in with him. Tell him how excited she was seeing the new room taking shape.
‘Hey you,’ she typed. ‘Got a lot done today. Looks amazing so far.’
Wilde Forever (Wilde Women Book 1) Page 14
