One Wrong Choice (A Cruel and Beautiful Book Book 3)

by A. M. Hargrove

  There goes her little hand wave again. “Yes, well, you know how I forget.”

  “You only forget because you don’t think I should have to work.” Bingo. I hear a car pull up in the drive and am so happy I want to run out and hug my brother’s neck. But then my mom stands up and clasps her hands together, which is super weird. She never gets up to greet us when we come over. We’ve been trained to come in and pay her our respects. So, what’s up with this?

  When he walks in the room, it all makes sense. I’d wondered why Kenneth hadn’t called me all week, begging to come back and save him from ruin with his family. He’d been uncharacteristically silent, but I’d passed it off as he knew I was serious about the breakup. Boy, was I stupid. These two must have been conniving.

  “Jenna, love,” Kenneth says, as he kisses my cheek, and hands me a gigantic bouquet of fresh cut flowers. Holy botanical gardens, this thing weighs a friggin’ ton.

  “Jenna dear, you must close your mouth. You appear as though you are catching flies,” Mom says.

  My jaws clamp together with a loud click.

  Mom continues in her happy-go-lucky tone. “Isn’t this wonderful? Kenneth is here, and he wants you back. We all know what a huge mistake you made when you broke off the engagement with him. But, darling, everyone gets the prenuptial jitters. It’s quite normal, as I was telling Kenneth when he called. I’m sure you two can work out your differences, and we can all have our lovely wedding after all. Isn’t that right, Kenneth?”

  “Yes, I think so. Jenna, you know we are great together, and that you will love being Mrs. Balfour. Just think how much you’ll enjoy your role as my wife.”

  Wait—is this the same man I caught with a dick up his ass, and he still thinks becoming his wife is a possibility? What the hell is wrong with him?

  “You seriously think that after …” I have to pause and regroup for a second because anger clouds my thoughts. But Mom butts in before I can continue.

  “And, Jenna darling, you won’t have to work such tedious hours at that yacht thing anymore, freeing you up to play tennis and golf.”

  My gaze bounces between them like a tennis ball in a match between Venus and Serena. “What? Are you two crazy? We can’t possibly get married!”

  “Of course, you can. All you have to do is say, ‘I will,’ when the minister prompts you,” Mom insists.

  They’re nuts. Both of them. Kenneth and my mom stare at me with glazed grins, waiting for my response. Here I was trying to be the nice guy, while Kenneth is conspiring with my mom. He is delusional. Now what am I supposed to do?

  “No, we can’t get married. And do you want to know why?” As I speak, I drill Kenneth’s eyes with my own. The color bleeds from his face as though I’ve severed his carotid artery. His head starts to shake from side to side. He looks like he’s having a seizure. “Because he cheated on me!” I say through clenched teeth.

  Mom grabs his hand, asking, “Kenneth, are you all right?”

  “Albeokidntno,” is all he mutters.

  While he’s having his fit, I walk up to him and put the death grip on his arm. Whispering into his ear, I say, “Enough of this game. If you try this shit again with my mom, your little secret with Horace won’t be a secret anymore. When you can speak, you tell her you don’t want to marry me. Got it?”

  Mom cries out as I move to leave. “Jenna, many men have affairs. Kenneth can get over this, can’t you, Kenneth?”

  Unbelievable.

  He blabs some gibberish, and I walk away, leaving him with his cohort. I storm out the front door, in time to see Ben and Sam pull up.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Ben asks. When I tell them what happened, neither of them can believe it. “Damn, Kenneth is really playing with fire, isn’t he?”

  Sam chuckles. “From the looks of Jenna, I’d say he was playing with dynamite. She about has smoke shooting out of her ears.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” I shoot back.

  “Damn straight I would,” Sam answers.

  “Ben?”

  “Yeah. Same here.”

  “Hey, let me ask you two something. Considering these circumstances, how long should I wait to get out in the dating world?”

  They share a glance, and Sam says, “If I were you, and considering what he just did, not to mention he fucked around on you, I’d be out there already. If anyone asks, you can say he wasn’t faithful and leave it at that.”

  Ben nods, saying, “I agree. Kenneth is a nice guy, but honestly, Jenna, he pretty much fucked you over. And I know what you’re going to say. But you never really loved the guy. Don’t try to hide it. So get out there and live your life. You know how I feel about that.”

  They’re both right, and I didn’t love Kenneth the way I should have nor did he love me. I just never had the nerve to tell him. And in some ways we were in the same boat. However, I was never unfaithful to him.

  Heading to my car, I say over my shoulder, “You all have fun. Tell Mom and Dad to enjoy dinner. I’m outta here.”

  Their laughter follows me. But to say I’m pissed over what Kenneth did, doesn’t cover it. I tried to protect him, and then he stabs me in the back. If he doesn’t get Mom off my back, then I’m all out with his sexual preferences. A girl has to do what is necessary to protect herself. But the worst thing is, I want to call Brandon. Only I don’t. The last thing I want is for him to see himself as the guy I run to whenever a problem arises. But that month thing—fuck it. I’ll get through the next few days, and then it’s my turn to live my life exactly how I want to. And that includes having Brandon in it.

  My resolve firm, I feel free for the first time in I’m not sure how long. I want to run through the streets of Charleston, naked. Okay, not really. But I do want to celebrate. Too bad Cate and Drew returned home or I would call her up and beg her to eat brunch with me. I could really go for some mimosas or bloodies. I wonder if Berkeley and the girls would be up for it.

  Shooting her a text, I wait for her response.

  It’s almost noon when my phone dings.

  Berkeley: Just leaving Kylian’s. What did you have in mind?

  Me: How about The Rooftop at The Restoration? It’s one of the hot spots on the roof of a killer hotel.

  Berkeley: I’ll round up the posse and meet you there at 1:00.

  Me: Cool. See ya then.

  For once I’m glad that Mom insists on eating early and I’m glad I went early. That gave me my opening for brunch with the fun brigade. Maybe by one, some of the church crowd will have thinned out, too.

  We all arrive at approximately the same time and have to wait about twenty minutes for a table. It ends up being only Berkeley, Hayley, and me. As we stand in line, out walks the redhead, with Brandon in her wake.

  “Jenna,” he says, clearly surprised to see me. The redhead grins like she’s watching the greatest show on Earth.

  “The one and only,” I sass back.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  “Eating brunch. Why else would I be here?” My eyes move from Brandon to his companion.

  “Brandon, aren’t you going to introduce us?” she asks.

  “Oh, yeah. Jenna, this is Lexa, my business associate.”

  Lexa extends her long fingers with their shiny manicured red nails, and I shake it as I stare at Brandon. “Business associate?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ll leave you two to chat. I need to meet someone. Nice meeting you, Jenna.” Lexa walks away.

  The hostess approaches Berkeley, and she motions to me that our table is ready.

  “I have to go. Our table—”

  “Okay. Have a good brunch.” He turns to leave, but I decide not to pass up a great opportunity.

  “Brandon, what are you doing later this afternoon?”

  “Like today?”

  Chuckling, I say, “Yes, today.”

  “No plans. Why?”

  “I’ve made a decision. That month thing? It
’s not going to work. Do you want to come over?”

  His forehead wrinkles. “You sure about this because I’m done with any kind of whiplashing thing.”

  “I’m positive.”

  “What time?”

  “How does four sound?”

  “Four sounds like a plan. And, Jenna?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You might want to have some cake lying around.”

  “I think I can arrange that.”

  His mouth curves up, and the man looks fucking spectacular. I’m not sure I can swallow so much as a bite of food right now.

  Twenty-Five

  Brandon

  Lexa holds my arm with a mix of mischief and regret.

  “I guess you got your girl.”

  Shrugging, I say, “Time will tell.”

  She pushes back at a mass of messy curls. “I have to admit, I’m going to miss you. You have our proposal and contract. Read it over and let me know what you think.”

  “I will.”

  She steps over and leans up to kiss my cheek. “You’re a great guy. If things don’t work out…”

  Her words are left hanging like leaves in the wind.

  Maybe another time had I never met Jenna. But I have. I hold up the documents. “I’ll contact you about this.”

  She presses her lips in a tight line and nods. Then Lexa is gone.

  When I get home, Braedon is sitting at the table with his laptop and a textbook open.

  “Finally studying?” I ask, walking over to peek over his shoulder.

  He glances up, and I see his mind working. “You’re smiling. Have you finally gotten laid?”

  I laugh off his comment. “No, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “I worry about you, big brother. There is such a thing as population control in your balls. You have to let some of them out from time to time. There’s no way you don’t have an overcrowding problem.”

  I have to chuckle again. “A mind is a beautiful thing. I hope you continue to use yours for the greater good.”

  As I stride toward my room, my brother calls, “I’m almost finished studying. You want to hang out.”

  It’s been a while since we’ve gone out together, and I feel bad when I answer, “Sorry, I have plans for the night.”

  “Fine, but don’t forget I have a meet next weekend. I expect you to be there.”

  Braedon’s on the rowing team at school. Since he’s been born, he’s loved the water. At one time he competed in high school as a swimmer until he fell in love more with being on the water instead of in it.

  “I’ll be there.”

  I’ve never missed one of his meets no matter what the sport, and I have no intention of doing it now. It means I’ll have to shift my work schedule. He’s my only brother, and I’ll do anything for him.

  After I shower and change, I drive to Jenna’s feeling oddly and somewhat nervous. We’ve danced around each other for years. What if this thing between us doesn’t work out? I’ll lose a friend, and that bites.

  Jenna answers the door after one knock as if she’d been waiting.

  “Hi.” She breathes the word like she’s giving it life.

  Closing the door behind me, I prowl forward. She steps back, retreating to the living room as if she sees the beast in me waiting to be unleashed. When I reach her, I don’t waste time. I thread my fingers through her hair. Maybe I should wait, but it feels like I’ve been waiting a lifetime.

  The descent to her lips feels like a study in patience as I try to hold myself back. Her lips are soft and closed. Dragging the tip of my tongue across the seam of them is my way of asking for entrance. When her lips part on a gasp, she cups the sides of my face and tugs me toward her. I take advantage, tangling our tongues. She tastes like cake, and oxygen becomes unimportant. It’s everything. No, she’s everything I imagined, and more. It goes from sweet to manic in seconds, both of us anticipating this for far too long.

  Letting my hand roam, I skim down the side of her rib cage, briefly feeling the curve of her breast, before my hand trails over her hip and around to cup her ass.

  Too soon we separate, panting like runners after a sprint. I catch my breath and say, “You ate cake without me.”

  She shrugs. “You were late.”

  “Five minutes?”

  “I’m a stickler for time.”

  I turn around and head for the door with a smile on my face. The sound of her feet trying to stop me only makes my grin widen. Once she reaches me, I move to reverse our positions, trapping her between me and the door.

  “I’m serious when it comes to cake,” I say, taking a step that flattens her chest against the surface. I love the feel of her ass against my cock. “I don’t like a tease.”

  “You’re teasing me right now.”

  She arches her back, pushing her ass further against me.

  “You really want to do this, Cupcake?”

  “Hell yeah, I do. And don’t call me Cupcake.”

  I grind into her. “You’ve made me wait and ate my cake, too, so I’ll call you what I want.”

  Sliding my hand under the hem of her dress, I groan when I realize she’s wearing nothing underneath and below but skin.

  “You like?” she jests.

  Across her belly and down over her mound, I position my hand bowling ball style before thrusting two fingers inside her. “I like that you’re wet.”

  “And ready.”

  Pulling my fingers out, I make a show of tasting them and groan. “I agree.”

  She spins around. “My turn.”

  “Wait!” This is the part I fear the most. The reveal. “I should tell you something first.”

  It’s too late for panic. She’s on a mission and has already worked the button free on my pants. Before I can stop her, she has me unzipped.

  Her hand is on me, first one and then another. My heart stops, and I freeze. “Holy shitfire, commando.” I sigh, hating my gene pool and the so-called gift bestowed on me. “And you’re hung like Horace.”

  There it is. “A horse,” I correct, because I don’t know what else to say.

  She shakes her head, eyes wide in alarm, but humor still laces her voice. “No, hung like Horace. Jeez, Brandon, how have you hidden this from me for so long?”

  Old wounds have me taking a step back. I don’t try to figure out the Horace thing. I work at tucking myself back into my pants, but the damn thing doesn’t want to bend.

  Frustration fuels my words. “I get it. You don’t have to say more. Women always act like they want a guy with a big dick, but when they see one, they run.”

  First her hands turn me to face her, and then her eyes touch me with understanding. She’s calm and patient as if she’s talking to a skittish child. “I’m not running, Brandon. Just surprised, that’s all.”

  Although I stop fumbling with my cock, I still hold my breath. “It’s okay, Jenna. I’m used to rejection. I just wish they had some kind of dick reduction surgery.”

  She laughs, all out cackles. “Now that’s funny, but drastic. If women can give birth to what amounts to a Thanksgiving turkey, you surely can fit. I imagine you first prep a girl for all of you?”

  I nod. “Then let me prepare you.”

  Relief is the furthest thing from my mind when I pull her in for a kiss. She strokes her tongue over mine as I cup her breasts. Blood races from my brain. Carefully, I rub my thumbs over her nipples. Her hands are back on my dick, stroking. I let go of one of her breasts to guide her movements. It takes no time at all to get too close. I pull back, and my dick bobs free from her hot hold.

  “Now I’m going to taste you.”

  She stands, waiting, and believe me, I’d kneel and worship her pussy until she’s calling my name. But we can’t do it here. Not the first time.

  “Take me to your room,” I say.

  I’ve never been to her inner sanctum, other than briefly to put her to bed when she’d fallen asleep during a movie, and that alone gets my heart b
eating. We’ve never crossed any lines of propriety. She’s a good Southern girl, and I’ve respected that. Now I plan to violate her in every way.

  I have to coax my feet to move, mesmerized as I am by her sweet little ass swaying as she walks. I fist my cock and hold up my jeans, eagerly following wherever she wants to take me.

  We enter the first door to an elegant space that suits her and isn’t overdone. Solid furniture that’s not too girly, and looks like it will stand the test of time, dots the room, not crowding it. What’s better is that I don’t feel as though I can’t touch anything. All the pillows on her bed will have to go to make space for what is coming next. Still, it’s a room worthy of her name.

  “Take off your dress.”

  It’s a light sort of thing that spins when she turns to face me. And then she peels it over her head with no hint of shame.

  “Damn, Jenna. No bra and no panties.”

  She’s dangerous when she looks at me this way. She could tell me to get on all fours and bark like a dog, and I might do it with my brain short-circuiting at the sight of her.

  “I come prepared,” she says with a smile half-cocked that has my dick harder than the diamonds of her eyes.

  My chuckle is dark, my needs darker. “Spread yourself on your bed and wait for me.”

  She struts the distance and lays out like a banquet feast before me. I kick off my jeans, stroking myself and enjoying the view as I make my way to her.

  In invitation, she lifts her arms over her head like she wants to play. My eyes drift over every inch of her skin, from the tips of her fingers to her lovely breasts, to her navel, and down to the pink treasure between her legs. It’s like Christmas as I kneel before the bed, pulling her until her pussy meets my face.

  Diving in like a deep-sea diver, I search for gold, or in this case, her first of many orgasms. Her honey is so damn addictive, I’m sure I’ll come as I glide the condom on, way too turned on by just licking and sucking her. But if I ever want to feel what it’s like to be inside her, I have some work to do. My tongue leaves her pretty pussy and circles her clit as I push two fingers inside.

  Curling my finger to stroke her G-spot, I scissor my fingers to widen the way. I almost lose it watching her writhe on the bed. Her soft moans are like music to my ears and gas for the fire burning inside me.