by J. J. Sorel
She nodded with a sweet smile.
As I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, I let out a long, slow breath. I’d nearly fucked up the most important thing in my life.
After a final kiss, I stood there and watched Ava walk off into the morning light. Her shapely ass with that natural sway made me hot again.
When I got back, I returned a call I’d missed from James.
“Hey, Bronson, I got a call from Caswell’s Consulting.”
“And?”
“There’s a formal event tomorrow night. They’ve invited us so that we can rub shoulders with a few of the councilors, who are on the same page as us with regard to this project.”
“Do I need a tux?”
“You do. It’s a dinner. You can bring someone. I’ve invited your mom.”
“I’ll ask Ava, then.” An uncomfortable knot formed in my gut. “I hope Mom will be cool, considering Ava was with Justin only a few weeks ago.”
“She knows.”
“You told her?” I asked.
“Alice was worried she hadn’t heard from you, and Justin was acting all weird on her about things, so I told her everything. She’s with me now, Bronson. We have no secrets.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’m good about that. Ava’s part of my life. Mom had to know sooner or later, I guess.”
“Then get out your swankiest suit.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea? Aren’t you the front man? The clean guy.”
There was a pause. “Look, Bronson, the designs and ideas are all that matters. Even though I’m bankrolling it, we’re in this as a partnership.”
“If someone asks what I’ve been doing for the past year, I’ll tell them I’ve been making furniture. Which is kind of the truth.” I chuckled.
“It will be fine, Bronson. The designs speak for themselves. People aren’t as interested in what one does in their private lives as you may think, especially where there’s a buck to be made.”
A tight breath left my lungs. “Send me the details. I’ll be there.”
I got off the phone, changed into my work gear, and headed off to the site.
“I’d love to see you in that pink dress you wore to Marc and Cassie’s engagement party,” I said, watching Ava swan about in her tiny apartment clearing away clothes as she looked for something to wear for my business function.
Having always been a clean freak, I found sitting amid her mess challenging.
The interior, at least, wasn’t half as bad as the exterior.
From the moment I’d arrived at her apartment’s ground-level entrance, which didn’t require a key or card, I’d started to worry. As I stood before the non-descript seventies building that would have been cheaper to bulldoze than to renovate, I checked out the dirty neighborhood. It was packed with lowlifes offering everything from cheap blowjobs to drugs. For a moment there, I even forgot that I was visiting the flower that was Ava, and that I was back in prison, considering one scumbag was like any other in my book.
When I finally made it to the fifth floor, I had to take a moment to steady my breath, given that the elevator didn’t work, after which I told Ava that I hated her living there.
She led me inside and let me kiss her, or I should say devour her lips. They were hot and moist and filled with so much promise that I instantly forgot about everything else.
Ava said, “I’m moving soon.”
“Why don’t you move in with me?” I asked, stepping out of her way as she cleared some room for me to sit on the couch.
A frown touched her pretty brow. “Look at all my stuff.”
I stretched out my tired legs. It had been a big day on the site. Every day was.
My eyes did a sweep of her space. She had a point. I couldn’t even find the wall, there was so much stuff strewn about.
“Are you a collector?” I asked, looking at the bookshelf that not only held countless volumes of hardback books but all kinds of bric-a-brac. It was too much for the eyes to take in.
She laughed. “No. But I don’t like getting rid of things.”
I nodded pensively. Opposites attract, I thought to myself.
“I can live with that. I could always get a cleaner,” I said as my eyes wandered into the kitchen, settling on the stacked-up dishes.
Ava looked embarrassed. “I’ve been busy writing and working. And I’m shit at dishes. Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s all good. I love doing dishes. Here, I’ll do them for you.”
“What?” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “No you won’t. I didn’t invite you here to wash my dishes.”
“Then why did you invite me?” I raised an eyebrow and smirked.
Her cheeks reddened slightly, which made heat travel down to my groin.
I patted the couch for her to sit.
From there, it got seriously dirty as my hands crept under her bra and unclasped it. I let out a deep sigh as I caressed her soft, full breasts. My mouth watered at the thought of her erect nipples. I’d been dreaming about this moment all day.
Her nipples spiked against my tongue as my fingers walked up her velvety thighs, where I felt a moist wonderland of womanliness.
My chest collapsed with desire. I needed to smell her, taste her.
She wriggled out of my hold. “I haven’t showered.”
I took her back into my hands. “All the better.”
Before she could respond, my tongue licked slowly over her bud, and after a tiny bit of tension, she surrendered by allowing me to make a meal of her pretty pussy.
I clasped her ass and held her close to my face as she gyrated through a release. Her breathy moans sent my cock into a frenzy.
Remaining with her legs apart, Ava began to close them, and I shook my head. “Please don’t.”
My cock went blue as I eyed her creamy pink opening, which was slick with a mixture of saliva and cum.
She remained there all rosy cheeked and heavy-lidded as she looked at my cock, which throbbed impatiently.
“You look so fucking hot, Ava,” I said.
“So do you,” she said with a breathy voice.
“Sit on my lap,” I said.
I held my cock so she could lower slowly onto it. My chest collapsed from the fiery pleasure of her tight, wet opening.
Ava was hot and responsive. I’d never felt a woman like her before.
Her breasts fell onto my face. I’d always loved big breasts, and Ava was stacked. They were natural and soft. Sheer perfection.
I moved her up and down slowly at first. Her hair was loose and wild.
Ava’s eyes had that sexy glow of lust as my unshifting gaze remained on her pretty face, while blood pumped furiously down to my groin as her tits bounced up and down.
Her hips gyrated in my hands as I held on. The friction from our frenzied pace took me over the edge. Ava’s lips parted, and her eyelids fluttered as her pussy went into a spasm and squeezed my cock senseless.
I blew with such intensity that a loud groan left my lips.
“You’re mine,” I gasped, holding her tightly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AVA
Bronson turned heads as he entered the room. It wasn’t just his six-foot-two frame but that he radiated charisma. Self-effacing to a fault, Bronson was totally unaware of his charms. He wasn’t exactly the most affable person, more bad boy than anything else. But for some reason, probably to do with primitive urges, women went gaga over raw testosterone. And Bronson had plenty of that.
The fact that he looked ridiculously handsome in that snug black suit that fitted his body in all the right places, made it impossible not to stare.
I forgave all the women in that room for ogling him despite a little jealous muscle tweaking within. That was new. I’d never been jealous before. But then, I’d never felt that type of profound attraction before.
Dressed in the classic pink gown that Aggie had given me, I felt out of place, given that most of the women wore tiny bits of fabric exposing plenty of flesh.
Bronson clutched my hand almost possessively. I didn’t mind. If anything, I gloated at the envious pouts directed my way.
“I feel old-fashioned in this dress,” I said.
“You take my breath away. You look beautiful. Like a princess.” He kissed me on the cheek. “A sexy one.”
His hot breath caressed my ear. “And you fill that suit in ways that are making me melt. Women keep looking at you.”
“They don’t even register, angel.”
His eyes held a sweet twinkle, which I’d never noticed before. Bronson seemed relaxed. He was nothing like the tense person who’d faced me a few days back. Not that I’d forgotten that bone-chilling moment he’d turned antagonistic within a breath. But I could do little but stay close. I couldn’t run away from him.
The tattoo had touched me profoundly, even if it did also freak me out. Cassie’s jaw had dropped when I told her. She even admitted to feeling jealous at how intensely romantic my connection to Bronson had become.
The function was in full swing when James came to join us with Alice close by his side, who cast me a reassuring smile. It did feel rather awkward considering that she’d met me when I was dating Justin. But then she whispered, “Life is strange like that. In some families, love can sometimes be shared.”
I returned a faint smile. Her comment reminded me of Aggie and her romance with a half-brother, which seemed incestuous, even if they weren’t related by blood.
James said, “Bronson, there are a few people I’d like you to meet.”
Bronson squeezed my hand. “Back soon.”
“I’ve never seen him look so happy,” said Alice.
“His designs are visionary,” I said.
Alice nodded. Her eyes filled with admiration. “As a boy, Bronson spent most of his spare time making things. He made us so much furniture. All very useful and well made. He was a good boy.”
Visualizing a scruffy dark-haired boy, I smiled. But as I observed him across the room with that tall, almost noble bearing and his hair with enough product in it to make it look suave, Bronson could have made a perfect James Bond. And it was patently obvious that every female there seemed fixated on him. I couldn’t help but notice their eyes following him with unshifting attention.
“It’s a shame about what happened.”
I looked at her. “His imprisonment, you mean?”
She nodded grimly. “Yeah. It’s broken him. I saw the same desperate look on his face when he came to us as a five-year-old. He just covers it up well by showing a tough exterior. But when no one’s looking, he reverts inward again.”
I’d seen that remote expression on many occasions. Although it made me recoil, it also made me want to take Bronson into my arms and hold him all night long.
“Do you think he suffered?” I asked.
“In prison? Or as a child?”
“As a child,” I answered.
“He did. For the first year, he screamed at night and slept with us. That was when Justin’s resentment began. I had a hard time convincing Justin that I loved them equally. I don’t think he could ever come to terms with the fact that we’d let someone else into our inner sanctum.”
“Do you regret it? I mean, it sounds like it caused problems.”
She shook her head. “No. Elliot, Bronson’s father, was also adopted. And he wanted to help make a difference for one of those little lives. Those places aren’t nice.”
“No.” I thought about a young Bronson and those remote looks I’d grown used to. “Bronson speaks often of his need to find his biological parents.”
“I know.” A sad smile cast a shadow over her face. “All that was found in his crib was a memento. No note.”
“A memento?” I asked.
“A cameo. It’s beautiful. Bronson would often spend hours looking at it as a child. It broke my heart. He has such a sensitive soul underneath that tough-guy exterior. I just don’t know what to do about Justin,” she said, frowning.
“How do you mean?” I asked, uncertain whether Alice knew of Justin’s drug issues.
“He’s now with Candy, as I’m sure you know. He seethes at the mention of Bronson.”
My legs tensed. “Is that because of me?”
“That, among other things. He’s become aggressive and difficult to talk to. He keeps accusing me of favoring Bronson, something that he always did as a child. Mainly after I’d reprimanded him for misbehaving. He was out of control as a child. I think he may have suffered from attention deficit disorder. Justin could never focus on one thing for too long.”
He still suffered that, I thought. “But he became a lawyer,” I said.
“He did. I think that cocaine is a form of medication for Justin.”
“Oh, you know about that?”
“Of course. I also suspect he was responsible for Bronson’s incarceration.”
My eyes widened. “Have you told Bronson?”
She shook her head. “What good is it going to do? It will destroy Justin’s career. And I’m frightened to think of what Bronson will do to him.”
“Bronson’s obsessed with clearing his name.”
A deep sigh left her lips. “Don’t I know it.” She looked at me with a mock smile of resignation.
James and Bronson came to join us.
“It looks like the sky’s fallen. What are you two discussing?” asked Bronson, scrutinizing us both.
“It’s all good,” said Alice. “We were discussing what a handsome figure you cut in that suit.”
A half grin claimed his face, which was always Bronson’s response to compliments. For a seriously handsome guy, he didn’t have a vain bone in his body, which was another thing I loved about him.
“That went really well,” James said, looking at Bronson.
Bronson nodded before casting his attention to me. “With a bit of luck, this time next year, I’ll be a rich man, and then we’ll be set.”
Alice looked at James and then at Bronson. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”
Bronson took my hand and kissed it. “We’re good.”
That question came flooding back to me.
Was I ready to marry Bronson?
After his meltdown, warning bells had rung in the distance, even though the throbbing of my heart whenever he looked at me or stood close drowned them out.
It was midnight when we got back to Bronson’s place. Watching him pacing about restlessly, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He combed through his tousled hair, which I was dying to do too. A glimmer of a smile chased his frown away. “I love you in that dress.”
I rose from the couch and held him. “You seem a little tense.”
He kissed my neck. “Not when you’re close. I need you close all the time, angel.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, looking into his eyes, which had gone black in the night.
“Then why will you not give me an answer?”
“It seems too soon. We’ve only been together for less than a month.”
He nodded with that remote, glazed look.
“Is that why you’ve gone all moody?” I asked.
Bronson exhaled. “I’m pissed off that I can’t stand proud and own my project because of that fucking conviction. That’s all.”
It was a stalemate. There it was again. Always the same ball and chain. I wished I could find a way past it for him.
“James will do the right thing by you, Bronson.”
“I’d trust him with my life. It’s not that. I would have loved to have registered the company in my name. I’m a lone wolf in many ways. Always have been.”
“I’m here,” I said with a tight smile.
“That’s different. I need you like I need air.”
I collapsed into his arms, and our lips met in a tender kiss that quickly turned hot and devouring.
He tilted my head back so his tongue could enter deeply.
His hands stroked my breasts, and he said, “I n
eed you naked.”
Bronson removed his jacket, and I loosened his tie.
Standing back to watch him, I indulged in some blood-pumping arousal as I undid a couple of his buttons. His tanned face stood out against the crisp white collar.
He lifted a layer of my silk dress. “I don’t know why, but seeing you in this dress makes me feel safe.”
“Ha?” My brow puckered.
“You look so familiar to me. Like I’ve known you forever,” he said.
My mouth opened, but no words followed.
“Dance for me,” said Bronson.
I was still getting over the earlier comment. “I’m not sure if I can.”
“And all those years of dance classes, then?” He cocked his head.
His smile was so encouraging, I spun around, becoming lightheaded and giggly while my skirt swished about, floating in the air.
I stopped. “I need music to dance.”
Bronson went to his laptop and pressed a few buttons and the song “Happy” came on.
A big smile filled my heart. I loved that song. Dancing wildly suddenly, I let myself go, performing all the moves I’d collected—some silly, some really practiced. Spinning then shimmying my shoulders and moving my head side to side, I clapped along just as the song told me to. Because I was happy, all right.
Looking amused, Bronson sat with his long arm stretched out over the top of the couch. I crooked my finger, and taking him by the hand, I coaxed him into joining me.
At first, he stood there with that sultry grin. Then his shoulders moved ever so slightly in a sexy shimmy. Oh, my God, he was such a stud, he made me go dizzy with desire. He lowered his head toward my face. Our foreheads were close to touching. His hips moved slowly and sensually like they did when he entered me. Bronson looked so bashful and manly at the same time that I wanted to eat him.
Holding onto my waist, he lifted me up and swirled me about, making me giggle like a child.
When the song ended, I fell breathlessly into his arms, and he carried me to the bedroom. There, Bronson sat back watching my slow, sexy striptease. The dark, lusty glow in his eyes made the whole performance worth it.
Especially a few moments later when, unable to wait, Bronson was so hard he entered me in one hungry thrust and sent me soaring.
