Tethered to Him (Alphamen in Suits Book 2)

by Michelle F. Adams

  Chapter 3

  Julia

  “I’m so glad to be back home,” I say as I watch James and Clarissa seated close to each other on the couch in the living room. “Oh, and I forgot to congratulate you on getting your first novel published.”

  Clarissa looks up at me and, her eyes twinkling with mischief, replies, “Well, I did have some help.”

  She gives James a sidelong glance, pretending to be upset, but he just smiles lovingly at her. And I know this must be an ongoing topic of discussion between them.

  I’ve missed so much. The love in this house is enough to spark joy in the air. I’ll be content here, I think. But I want to be happy, I add to myself as I glance helplessly in the direction of the stairs where Brandon disappeared to earlier.

  James catches me looking and misinterprets it. “You must be tired from the flight. Go on and have some rest. We’ll talk more at dinner.”

  “Oh, yes. And I must get back to my second book. I still need to complete that chapter to meet today’s deadline,” Clarissa joins in.

  James grabs her hand and gently pulls her up to stand with him. “You need a nap first, baby. You look tired too.”

  “I’m not tired,” she protests, but he simply starts pulling her out of the room behind him, her hand firmly held in his.

  I follow them with a smile on my face. As they turn right at the first-floor landing, I turn in the opposite direction where my room is. Suddenly, a dark, tan hand comes out and grabs my arm, pulling me into an empty office. The door clicks shut behind me.

  “Brandon, what are you doing? This is James’s office. He could come in at any time,” I protest.

  “He hardly ever comes in here anymore. When he’s at home, he’s always with Clarissa,” he says as he takes a step toward me.

  I’m still standing with my back to the door, stunned at how quickly he pulled me in here without anyone noticing. He keeps prowling closer until I’m caged between his body and the door, his arms on either side of my head.

  He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes keep roaming over my face. It seems as if he’s committing every feature to memory. I start to feel self-conscious under his intense stare and lift a hand to tuck some stray hairs behind my ear.

  Brandon catches it and brings it to his chest, putting his hand over mine so my palm is pressed flat to his shirt, right over his heart. The steady thrum, thrum, thrum is reassuring.

  “How did I let you go?” His voice is pitched so low it’s as if he’s speaking to himself. “How did I let you stay gone for three years?”

  “Why did you then?” I ask, old resentment bubbling up inside me.

  I remember the time after my eighteenth birthday, the uncertainty and the anticipation as I waited for him to make his move. To tell me his feelings for me. But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and I finally accepted he wasn’t going to say or do anything.

  I thought it was all in my head—the sizzling attraction, the stolen looks, the thinly veiled desperation and hunger in his gaze. I convinced myself I had imagined it all. And with a heavy heart, I applied to study abroad, needing distance and time away from him.

  I never expected this behavior from him upon coming back. I thought he would remain his cool, calm, collected self. It’s why I spent months delaying my return home. I was initially supposed to come back one month after James’s wedding, but I gave him the excuse that I needed some more time to pack up and say my goodbyes. He wasn’t happy about it, but he understood.

  Months. I spent months preparing myself to see Brandon again. For the return of all those feelings and knowing they weren’t reciprocated.

  And now his actions are telling me different, and I have no idea what to think.

  He remains silent, his eyes full of fear and regret. It’s the fear I see in them again that has me even more determined to get some answers from him. What is he so afraid of?

  “Why, Brandon?” I ask, more firmly this time.

  He opens his mouth to answer, but no words come out. He swallows and looks away from me before saying, “I needed to… You needed more. More from your life. You had ambitions. You studied so hard, and you wanted to complete your education, get your degree. I couldn’t get in the way of that. I had to, Julia.”

  Suddenly, he yanks on my hand still pressed to his chest, and my body moves forward, colliding with his. He wraps his other arm around my waist to keep me there.

  “Don’t you get it?” he asks. “I had to let you go live.”

  The last word comes out hoarse and raw with suppressed emotions. He abruptly closes his mouth and stops speaking. I know there’s more to it than that, more that he’s not telling me, but I let it go for now.

  “What now?” I ask him instead.

  His forehead creases into a frown. “I don’t understand what you mean. You’re back now. For good,” he emphasizes. His arm tightens around me more.

  I revel in the possessive hold. Yes, don’t let me go. Hold me forever, I want to tell him. But there is still so much between us left to solve. The matter Brandon is hiding from me. How we will tell everything to James. The prospect of my future career. I’m silent as all these thoughts race through my mind.

  Brandon’s face crumples, and his hold on me tightens even more, his fingers digging into my side. “No, you…I can’t… You can’t be thinking of leaving again.” His eyes are desperate, pleading with me.

  Despite the uncertainty of the future, I can’t bear to see Brandon in distress. I rush to reassure him. “Brandon, no. I won’t leave again. I was just thinking of the future. James has offered me a job with his company, but I still haven’t decided if I want to take it. And then we haven’t told James anything about us. Not that there is an us—”

  His low growl stops me from going further. His arm around me is constricting my breath. I put my hand over his at my waist and squeeze gently. He immediately lets go and moves his hand upward, tangling his fingers in the strands of my hair.

  “There is an us. There was always an us.” His voice is like steel, unyielding and firm.

  I want to deny his claim. Insist there wasn’t an us before I left because he made us wait. But denying him would mean denying my feelings too, and I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen. That truth has been so deeply rooted inside me, it seems as if it’s become a part of my existence.

  “There is a lot we need to talk about, Brandon. So many things.” My eyes try to convey my meaning to him, and I know he gets it when his gaze becomes hooded. But he dips his head in acknowledgement, and a sigh of relief escapes me. At least he agreed that we do need to talk. It doesn’t have to be right now. I can be patient.

  “Just tell me it was worth it,” he says. “Three years without you. A thousand days of trying to breathe without your light surrounding me. I did it for you, Julia. Tell me it was worth it. Tell me you lived.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. Yes, I enjoyed my time abroad. I studied accounting and received my bachelor’s degree. I made friends and went out and had fun. But I could have done all those things here too. Without the emptiness I always felt accompanying me wherever I went. I could have stayed here and lived too.

  But I know Brandon believes I needed to go out and experience life, and I can’t deny the years apart made me stronger. I always knew I loved Brandon, but I needed to live life without him to see I didn’t simply need him with me. I wanted him, with every breath in my body and every beat of my heart. I chose him.

  “It was a beautiful experience, yes.” I press closer into his embrace. “I missed you sometimes,” I tease lightly.

  He crushes me into his arms, his mouth resting at my temple. “I missed you every day. Fuck, every second.”

  I trail my fingers down his broad back. He shudders against me. “We could have talked on the phone every day. If you had told me how you felt before I left.” My voice is still teasing, but there is a gentle rebuke in it. I always wondered if he would ever call. But he never did.<
br />
  He nuzzles the hair at my temple. “I couldn’t, Julia. Please understand that. If I had heard your voice on the phone, I would have gotten on the next available flight and come to you.”

  A thought suddenly occurs to me. It’s silly because I now know Brandon feels the same way for me as I feel about him. Has always felt that way. But once the question comes to me, it gets planted in my mind, spreading its roots until I’m consumed with it. I have to know the answer. I need to know it.

  I push slightly away from Brandon’s body curved around mine, my smaller frame completely engulfed by his. He protests the move, raising his head from where he was nuzzling my hair to look at me.

  “What about you? How much living did you do while I was gone?” I ask him.

  He draws back, his expression one of shock. It quickly turns to disgust. “You think I could touch anyone while you were gone? You think I would betray you like that?”

  My heart softens in the face of his ferocity. Of course I believe him. I saved myself for him. Why would I think he wouldn’t do the same? I shouldn’t have ever doubted him or our connection. From the moment I first saw him, all those years ago, he was mine. And I was his.

  I want to tell him how I feel, but he doesn’t give me a chance. “You think I could even look at someone else after I had seen you? Your innocence. Your beauty. Your light. Since the first day I saw you, I haven’t even thought about anyone else. You take up all the space in my mind. My heart.”

  His words make me feel dizzy with love, but it’s the glint in his eyes that sends a tremor of lust down my spine.

  “And you know what that means?” he asks in a low tone.

  I mutely shake my head, my tongue turning leaden as heat builds between my legs.

  “It means you owe me five years. I couldn’t touch you when you were sixteen, but you knew you were still mine, didn’t you?” His hand makes a fist in my hair, tugging my head back, exposing my neck. “You knew I owned you when you were doing your homework on the couch, knowing I was watching your every move. You knew you were claimed when you would come downstairs at night in those skimpy, little shorts you wear to bed. Drinking water so slowly. Swallowing in front of me.”

  He bends down and licks a long, slow line up my throat. I moan, and he does it again.

  “That’s right. You owe me five years of being mine. And I always collect my due.”

  His hand trails down my back, his palm coming to rest above my ass. He pushes inward, pressing me forward into the cradle of his groin. His hard, throbbing member is bulging behind the fly of his jeans. He uses both hands to capture my hips and moves them in a circle. Slowly. Forcefully. My clit aches with the delicious pressure, throbbing in sync with my pulse.

  I wrap my arms around his neck and try to move again, but he is holding onto my hips tightly, preventing any movement. The message is clear. He’s in control.

  “Brandon, more,” I whisper into his ear.

  He rotates my hips once. Twice. Sparks shoot through my bloodstream at the blissful pressure. And then he stops again. “Did you make yourself come in the three years you were away from my reach?” he asks.

  I can barely concentrate on what he’s saying, need coursing through my body in waves that threaten to drown me.

  “No,” he answers himself. “Because you are a good, sweet girl who knows she is owned.”

  His hands slip underneath my shirt and glide up to my breasts, my nipples tight and hard and begging for his touch.

  “Let’s see what I own. What you’ve been saving for me.” He bends down and lightly grazes my mouth with his lips. “And if you’re really good, I’ll show you what I’ve been saving for you.”

  Slowly, he lifts my shirt up over my head and removes my bra. I don’t have a second to feel self-conscious at baring my body to a man for the first time. The look in Brandon’s eyes as he gazes at my exposed breasts is a mixture of pure wonder and undiluted hunger. In the next instant, he leans down and devours my right breast, sucking as much as he can get into his mouth. Tiny tremors of pleasure race through my veins, and I arch my back, offering myself up to him.

  “Brandon,” I moan, my fingers digging into the back of his head.

  He suckles harder in response, his tongue flicking against my nipple, hardening it further. His hands go to the button of my jeans, undoing it and lowering the zipper. It isn’t until he lifts one of my legs into the crook of his elbow that I realize he’s dragged my jeans and panties down and off me, throwing them haphazardly behind him. I’m lost in the magic his mouth is creating as he switches back and forth between my breasts, sucking and nipping at them. Stopping to rub his closed lips against the tips. Kissing them reverently.

  One hand clenches at my back, and I know he’s trying not to grip me too tightly, like before. It’s that restraint he shows, the care he takes with me when I can see he’s struggling to control himself, that makes me trust him completely. I open myself up to him, my body melting in his arms, pliant and limp. He senses the change immediately and slips his other hand down my stomach toward the small patch of hair I keep neatly trimmed.

  His fingers sift through them at a lazy pace, driving me mad. I roll my hips closer to him to urge him on. He lifts his head and tuts at me with a grin on his mouth. The wet he left behind on my nipples has them puckering in the cold air.

  “So impatient,” he rebukes. “I haven’t even kissed you properly yet.”

  With that, he swoops down and captures my mouth, his tongue driving inside me with wild abandon. This was not what I expected. I thought my first kiss with Brandon would be soft and sweet. This is so different from what I imagined that for a moment I freeze.

  Brandon stops and lifts his head, an apologetic expression crossing his face. “Need to take care with you. Need to remember,” he murmurs as he presses his lips to my forehead. He trails kisses along my hairline. “Want to give you slow and gentle.” His lips move down my nose. “And hard and fast.” A kiss to my left cheek. “A little rough.” A press of his lips to my right cheek. “I want to give you everything, Julia.”

  Finally, his mouth lands on mine. But he doesn’t kiss me, simply moving his head from side to side.

  “Will you let me do all that to you?” Pressure at my upper lip and then a swipe of his tongue to my lower one. “Will you, Julia?”

  “Yes, Brandon,” I answer, chasing his mouth with mine. “Yes to everything.”

  He groans and opens his mouth above mine, lightly touching the tip of my tongue with his. I close my lips around it and suck hard. His body jerks against mine, his fingers digging into my thigh where he is still holding my leg up.

  His other hand moves between my legs, sliding a finger inside me at the same time his tongue slides fully into my mouth. The double stimulation makes more wetness leak out of me, easing the passage of his finger into my body. He pumps it in and out of me a few times, his tongue moving in rhythm with his thick digit, grazing the walls of my mouth and skimming over my teeth.

  Suddenly, he tears away from me and drops to his knees. “I need to taste you,” he says in a guttural voice heavy with lust.

  I stumble at the abrupt movement, and he catches my hips, leaning me back against the door, my naked body quivering as he kneels on the carpet in front of me, fully clothed.

  “I’m so goddamn hungry for you.” He swipes a hand over his mouth, his eyes fixed on the lips of my sex, which are clearly visible in my reclining position. “Years. For fucking years, I waited for this.”

  He leans in and licks right through the middle of my folds, going to the top and circling my clit before pulling back again. “So sweet.” He leans forward for another taste. “So fucking sweet. I could drink from your well forever and still be thirsty.”

  I moan and put my hands on his shoulders, urging him forward again.

  He reaches up and swipes a finger through my pussy lips, scooping out my cream. It glistens in the light of the office before he puts it in his mouth. “Divine. You taste l
ike heaven. It’ll be the death of me.”

  He looks up at me, the hard lines of his face stark with need.

  “Reach down and pull your pussy lips apart,” he orders in a rough voice.

  I startle in shock, wondering if I could be so bold.

  His eyes narrow at my hesitation. “You want to offer your pussy for me to taste, don’t you, Julia?” he asks in a low tone.

  Silently, I nod my head, my eyes fixed on his.

  “Then do what I say. Open up your pussy.”

  I start to reach a hand down shyly when he stops me. “Use both hands.”

  Reaching down, my fingers find my wetness. I put one hand on each side of my lips and press outward. Brandon watches me from his place on his knees between my spread legs, his gaze transfixed.

  “That’s it, sweetness,” he praises.

  “Sweetness?” I ask.

  He pauses in the act of leaning forward, his mouth a hair’s breadth from my hot, aching core. His lips brush against me lightly, teasingly, as he speaks, intensifying the need. “Yes, sweetness,” he confirms. “Everyone else gets to see your sweet side. But only I get to see your dark, dirty one.”

  He emphasizes his words by licking a path with his tongue right down the middle of my sex. I moan and pull my hands further apart, spreading myself open more.

  Brandon groans and kisses the tips of my fingers. “My girl wants to be dirty for me, don’t you, sweetness? Just for me.”

  “Brandon, yes,” I encourage him.

  He moves back to my core and swipes my clit in hard, furious strokes that have me on the edge of climax. I rise up on my tiptoes, trying to escape from the blissful pressure. He follows my retreat until I’m directly above him, his head tilted back, hands clutching the cheeks of my ass. My thighs are on either side of his head, covering his ears completely. But he doesn’t seem to mind as he continues working me with his tongue relentlessly.

  “I’m so close. Brandon, s-so close,” I whisper, balancing on my tiptoes precariously, my hands still holding myself apart for him.