Follow Me Darkly

by HELEN HARDT

  He regards me, his eyes hypnotic. “We’ll see who the amateur is by the time this night is over.”

  Chapter Four

  My heart thumps wildly. The innuendo isn’t lost on me.

  Cory comes back to take our dinner orders. I flash back to an employment interview workshop in high school. “Order the fish of the day, broiled,” the teacher said. “If you’re nervous and you drop some on your clothing, it won’t leave a stain.”

  Union Oyster House doesn’t have a “fish of the day,” so I decide on the pan-seared haddock with mashed potatoes and fresh vegetables. Nothing to get me in too much trouble there.

  Braden orders fried oysters. He wasn’t lying when he said he was in the mood for them.

  “Do you enjoy your job, Skye?”

  I’m about to answer when my phone dings. I quickly grab it out of my purse. It’s blowing up with notifications.

  “Congratulations,” Braden says. “You’re famous.”

  Because he tagged me in the post of the oysters, I’m being notified every time someone makes a comment.

  “Turn off notifications,” he says, “or it’ll drive you bananas.”

  I follow his advice and then tuck the phone back in my purse. Wow. A few people know I’m Addison’s assistant, but this is ridiculous.

  “You going to answer my question?”

  “Sure. What question?”

  “Do you enjoy your job?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “I get to take pictures, which is what I love to do, but I’m not exactly photographing anything significant.”

  “Addie trying on scarves isn’t going to make it into National Geographic,” he says. “You’re right about that.”

  I warm a little. Is he making fun of me? Plus, how did he know that having a photo in National Geographic is my dream? Ever since I saw that gorgeous photo of the Afghani girl with the searing green eyes in a book of magazine photographs, I’ve wanted to capture something that profound.

  “I’m making good contacts.”

  “That’s true. Maybe you can become the official photographer for Bean There Done That. Getting those sprinkles of nutmeg just right on cappuccinos.”

  Yeah, he’s making fun of me. Addie was right. He’s kind of a douche. A gorgeous douche, but still a douche. “Did you really ask me to dinner to diss my job?”

  “That wasn’t my intention,” he says, his blue eyes on fire. “I asked you to dinner because I really want to fuck you.”

  Again with the thighs quivering. I’m wet already. I can feel it.

  “How am I supposed to respond to that?” I ask, willing my voice not to shake. I’m not completely successful.

  “I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t go after what I want,” he says, his voice slightly lower and raspier.

  I get that. I do. I’m pretty enough and I have good boobs, but this man can have anyone. He’s way out of my league. So why does Braden Black want me? I desperately want to ask that question, and I’m desperately afraid at the same time that if I do, he’ll realize his ridiculous mistake and send me home.

  I compromise and say nothing while my cheeks warm and my heart flutters.

  He raises one eyebrow. “You can tell me you’d like to fuck me, too.”

  I resist the urge to squirm in my chair. Does he really want me to say that? Even weirder, I actually want to say it.

  This will be a fuck. Just a fuck. I’ve had “just a fuck” before. I can live with that. Braden Black probably has some extra-smooth moves, plus there’s something about him that seems to call to me, though I have no idea what.

  “Because you do,” he says. “Don’t try to deny it, Skye. I see it in your eyes.” He slurps an oyster and licks a dab of cocktail sauce from the corner of his mouth.

  I bite my lip. “If I were to agree to this… Where?”

  “My place.”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  His right eye crinkles a little, and for a moment I think he’s going to smile, but he doesn’t. “Sometimes it’s better that way.”

  I cock my head slightly. I have no idea what he means, and I wait for him to explain. But no explanation comes. He simply loads cocktail sauce onto another oyster, slurps it, and again licks the dab of red from the corner of his mouth.

  How would that tongue feel between my legs? I take a slow drink of my martini. I may need another.

  Instead, though, Braden orders a bottle of some kind of French white to go with our dinner. Good thing I like wine. My boyfriend in college used to order for me all the time, and it pissed me off.

  When Braden does it? It kind of turns me on.

  What is happening to me? I squirm again against that incessant tickle between my legs.

  My martini is gone, and the wine arrives, followed by our meals. My haddock looks plain, which is what I was going for. I take a bite. Tasty. Maybe not mouthwateringly delicious, but tasty.

  I should make conversation. I could ask Braden how he made his billions, but I already know that story. Everyone does. He and his younger brother, Ben, worked for their father’s small construction company in South Boston. Braden made some modifications to a pair of safety goggles, which turned out to be state of the art. He patented the design, and he and Ben started Black, Inc. when Braden was twenty-five years old. Now, at thirty-five, he and Ben are billionaires, and most construction workers in the world use his goggles. But he’s gone far beyond goggles. His investments in real estate, luxury assets, public and private holdings, foreign currency, precious metals—you name it—have made Black, Inc. a household name.

  Braden is the CEO, while Ben handles marketing and their father, Bobby Black, is chairman of the board.

  Not bad for a guy who never went to college.

  Yeah, we all know the story. He’ll probably think I’m ridiculous if I ask about it.

  “Do you have any pets?” I ask after swallowing a bite of broccoli. I have no idea where that question came from, but it’s too late now. The words have left my mouth.

  “A dog.”

  I widen my eyes. “Oh?” I’m not sure why I’m surprised, but I am. I love dogs, but Braden doesn’t seem to be the dog type.

  “Yeah. A rescue pup. She’s adorable.”

  I smile and lift my eyebrows. “You rescued a dog?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  Is it? I’m not sure. “Well…no.”

  His eyes soften and he pulls out his phone and hands it to me. “She’s great. Part border collie and part Australian cattle dog with some other stuff thrown in. I did one of those doggie DNA kits on her.”

  And just like that, Braden Black is even more attractive to me.

  “She’s beautiful.” I give his phone back.

  “How about you? Any dogs?”

  I shake my head. “I love them, but my apartment complex doesn’t allow them.”

  “Then move.”

  “It’s not that easy when you don’t have millions sitting around collecting dust like you do.”

  I freeze, my fork halfway to my plate. Did I really say that? I probably just ended our dinner date.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “That wasn’t called for.”

  He shakes his head. “No worries. I’m used to it. But, Skye, I’m not any different from the next person.”

  “Except that the next person can’t buy whatever he wants.”

  “I can’t, either.”

  “Exactly what do you want that you can’t buy?”

  “You,” he says. “In my bed.”

  Chapter Five

  Nice. He knows he can’t buy a woman like me. His words are the first sign all night that he’s not the douchebag Addie says he is. Well, that and the fact that he rescued a dog.

  “No,” I say. �
��I’m not for sale.”

  “That’s why you’ll come willingly.” He lowers his gaze to my mouth.

  He’s right. I’ll go willingly. As soon as he said he wanted me in his bed, I knew I’d do it. Something about Braden calls to me. I doubt I’m alone. He probably has this effect on every woman he comes across. Does he bed all of them? He isn’t known as a womanizer. He had a pretty public relationship with a lesser-known model named Aretha Doyle for a while, but that ended more than a year ago.

  Probably he just wants a fuck, and I’m the lucky squeeze du jour.

  He’s still staring at my mouth. I grab my napkin and wipe away whatever piece of offending food he may be gawking at, and then I gather all my courage. Two can play this game. Braden Black wants me in his bed? I’ll show him who has control.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  He eyes my plate. “You didn’t finish your dinner.”

  “I’m suddenly not hungry. You want to fuck me? Let’s go fuck.”

  His eyelids lower slightly. “Works for me.” He motions to Cory. “We’re ready for the check.”

  …

  Braden’s lush downtown penthouse is decorated all in black and forest green. A black lacquer grand piano sits in one corner. A pretty black, brown, and white dog scurries out from under the piano, running to greet him. She’s even more gorgeous than in the photo he showed me.

  “Hey, Sasha.” He pets her head.

  “She’s beautiful.” I kneel down to scratch her behind the ears. “Hi there, Sasha. You’re so pretty.”

  Sasha licks my face for a few seconds but then grows bored with me and heads somewhere else in the penthouse.

  I nod toward the piano. “Do you play?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you have a piano?”

  “I hire a pianist for my parties,” he says. “Guests love it. Do you play?”

  I shake my head. “We didn’t have a piano. My dad plays the guitar, though.”

  He leads me to the piano, where a guitar also sits. “I do, too. Just dabble really. But I love playing classical guitar and then of course some folk songs. All acoustic stuff.”

  I’d ask him to play something if I weren’t shaking from the top of my head all the way down to my toes. Rather, keeping myself from shaking.

  I’m standing in Braden Black’s home.

  Yeah, I came to a virtual stranger’s home—a home with so much security, no one could find me here. A home where he can do anything he wants to me, and I have no way to stop him.

  Anything he wants.

  So much for me staying in control.

  The thought makes me shudder, and again a jolt arrows between my legs.

  Yeah, he has security, but he hasn’t done anything to make me feel unsafe so far tonight. I can always leave. I don’t have to do this.

  Except I want to do this more than I want my next breath.

  I want to go to Braden Black’s bed.

  I want him to fuck me until I can’t walk.

  As if reading my mind, he closes the distance between us and gazes down at me, zeroing in on my mouth again. He trails a finger over my upper lip and then my lower. “I’ve wanted to kiss those full pink lips since I saw you at Addie’s office. You have the sexiest mouth I’ve ever seen.”

  I have a sexy mouth? Before I can contemplate further, he crushes his mouth to mine.

  My lips are already parted, and he thrusts his tongue between them.

  This isn’t a normal first kiss.

  No. This is a kiss of untamed desire, a kiss of two people who want each other desperately.

  A kiss that drugs me, takes away my will.

  A tiny groan, more a vibration than a sound, echoes from his throat and into me, fueling my desire. My hands, seemingly of their own accord, drift up his arms to his neck and I entwine my fingers in his dark-brown hair. He wears it long for a businessman, and it feels like silk against my fingers.

  He growls into my mouth and roughly tugs on my ponytail, his tongue still tangling with mine. We kiss and we kiss and we kiss, until—

  “Bedroom,” he gasps, breaking the kiss. “God, I want to fuck you so bad. I need to get inside that tight little body of yours.”

  Tight little body? That’s Addison, not me, but I don’t care at the moment. He wants me, and I want him. I’ve lost capacity for rational thought. I don’t care that I know next to nothing about him except what everyone else knows. At the moment, I don’t care if he’s a serial killer.

  All I know is I want him. I yearn for him more than I’ve ever yearned for anything.

  I’m out of control. Completely.

  And that’s why I know I can’t do this, no matter how much my body is aching for his touch.

  Not now. Not until I’m myself again.

  Skye Manning doesn’t lose control. Not ever.

  What will I say to him? What will he say to me? He’ll probably call me a cocktease, and he’ll be right.

  I’m playing Push Me Pull You with myself, my body going one way, my mind going another.

  He takes my hand and yanks me down a hallway toward a closed door at the end.

  His bedroom.

  Braden Black’s bedroom.

  If I go in, it’ll be all over. I’ll go to bed with him. I’ll give up the discipline I so desperately covet in my life.

  He touches the brushed brass doorknob, ready to turn it.

  I bite my lip, nearly drawing blood. “No.”

  His sapphire eyes are on fire, and they’re shooting flaming darts at me. “Excuse me?”

  I clear my throat. “No. I can’t do this. We barely know each other.”

  He stares at me, but his eyes seem different somehow, like he’s looking not at me but through me. Unease sweeps over my flesh. I’m still turned on, still hotter than ever, but now something icy exists between us, and though we’re only inches away from each other, the distance seems like miles.

  I expect him to argue with me. To tell me I’ve already agreed. To pressure me to change my mind.

  He says nothing. Instead, he takes my hand and leads me back to the living area. Sasha prances around us, and Braden leans down to give her a pet on the head.

  “I’m sor—”

  “Not a problem, Skye,” he says, tapping into his phone.

  Not a problem? After he said he had to have me? Loved my sexy mouth? My tight body?

  This was truly just a fuck to him?

  Of course it was. Braden Black can have anyone he wants. He’ll have someone up here to replace me at a moment’s notice. He’s probably calling one of his standbys. Maybe a tall blond supermodel type with legs a mile long. She’ll take my place tonight because I gave up the chance for the night of a lifetime—all for control.

  And control is something I can’t ever afford to give up.

  I’m a fool.

  I changed my mind.

  The words hover on my lips. I open my mouth—

  Braden clears his throat into the phone. “Christopher? Ms. Manning needs a ride home.”

  Chapter Six

  “I can’t believe you.” My best friend, Tessa Logan, echoes my own thoughts at breakfast the next morning. “You’ll never get this chance again. Plus, he might have been the one who could help you with your little problem.”

  I roll my eyes. I don’t want to think about my “little problem” at the moment. I try to never think about it. It’s not a huge deal, anyway. Why should I miss what I’ve never had?

  “I’m not that easy,” I say.

  “So what? This is Braden Black, hottie extraordinaire. Not to mention billionaire. When Braden Black wants you, you do it.”

  “I just felt so—”

  “Out of your element?” she finishes for me, tilting her head so her brown-black hair grazes her shoulders.
/>
  Tessa knows me better than anyone and is the only person outside of family who understands why I have a need to be in charge all the time.

  “Well…yeah.”

  “Skye, let me tell you something. I get your history, but you need to let go, babe. You’re missing out on adventures because of your ridiculous need to be in control. I’ve never even seen you drunk.”

  Yeah. And no one ever would. I got over that when I was sixteen. I shared a bottle of Southern Comfort with a high school friend and puked all the next day. Never again. I allow myself two drinks if I’m driving—only one if I’m not eating—and no more than four if I’m not. If I get tipsy with the third, I don’t take it to four. I know my limits, and I stick to them.

  “Sorry, Tess. You’ll never get me drunk. Tipsy, but not drunk, and don’t even bring up drugs.”

  “Who said anything about drugs?” She shakes her head. “You know I don’t indulge. You don’t want to get drunk? Fine. You can let your hair down in other ways. Let’s get you laid.”

  Classic Tessa. Sex is just sex to her. She can separate the act from the emotion. She’s lucky that way.

  “I don’t go to bed with just anyone. I think I proved that last night.”

  She shakes her head again. “That’s my point. Get laid. Have a one nighter. Yeah, you missed out on what was probably the one nighter of a lifetime, but Braden Black isn’t the only guy in the city.”

  He’s the only guy I want.

  I don’t say the words out loud, but they’re cemented in my mind. I blew it. I totally blew it.

  In truth, I’ve never wanted a man the way I wanted Braden Black last night. My body responded to his every word, move, touch, in a way it never had before. I thought I could handle Braden Black.

  But I couldn’t. Not when he kissed me, touched me, led me to his bedroom.

  I was ready to let him take me in every way possible, do anything he wanted to me. I didn’t care.

  And that frightened me more than anything ever had.

  “As much as I’d love to search the streets for someone to take me to bed”—not—“I have to get to work. We’re shooting a selfie at that new pretzel stand this morning.”