Darkly (Follow Me)

by HELEN HARDT

  “Oh?” Skye says. “What do you do?”

  “I’m an attorney.” She slides a card toward Skye.

  Nicely done. Skye probably has no need for a corporate attorney, but Laurie’s thinking bigger. She’s getting her name out everywhere she can. I admire that.

  “I interned with Brock Ames when I was in law school,” Laurie continues. “He got me set up with my current firm.”

  “So how do you two know each other?” Skye asks sweetly.

  “We don’t, actually,” I say.

  “Oh?”

  “Shameless self-promotion.” Laurie smiles. “Of course I recognized Braden and had to come introduce myself.”

  “As I said, Ms. Simms, I’m happy with my current representation.”

  She stands. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. Nice to meet you, Skye.”

  “You too.” She smiles back. This time it seems more genuine.

  Skye has a beautiful smile. Her whole face lights up, and her lips… I resist the urge to cup her cheek right here in the middle of the MADD Gala.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “For what?”

  “For getting back here. Seemed like you were gone forever. When I’m alone, people pounce. Laurie is the umpteenth person who came up to me while you were gone.”

  “Were the others beautiful females as well?”

  I smile. “Does it matter?”

  She looks at her drink. “I suppose not.”

  “One was Peter Reardon. Apparently he was waiting outside the ballroom, and when he saw you and Tessa leave, he came back in and sought me out. He apologized for dancing with you.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. That’s ridiculous. He had a perfect right to dance with me. I enjoyed his company.”

  “I’m sure he enjoyed yours as well. He just didn’t know you were with me.”

  “I wasn’t with you.”

  “You are now, and I aim to keep it that way.”

  She squirms in her chair. I can’t tell if she’s angry or turned on by my comment. Most likely both, which is exactly what I was hoping for.

  “Have you thought any more about coming back to my bed?” I ask.

  “I don’t want to talk about that here,” she says.

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because we’re nearly screaming at each other to be heard above the band.”

  She’s exaggerating a bit, but I’ll indulge her. “Let’s go out to the lobby, then.”

  “I can’t. I have to watch Tessa’s bag.”

  “Tessa’s bag will be fine. If it’s not, I’ll replace everything in it.” I rise. “Come on.”

  “She’d never forgive—”

  “For God’s sake.” I reach for her hand and tug her behind me.

  We walk along the outer edge of the ballroom to the entrance and then through the hallway into the lobby.

  “Why did you come here, Braden?”

  “I already told you. To keep you from getting into someone else’s bed.”

  She tilts her chin upward. “Why is that any of your concern?”

  “Because I want you in my bed, Skye. Haven’t I made that clear? And I’m not very good at sharing.”

  “What about what I want? Has that occurred to you?”

  “You seemed to have a good time in bed with me.” I’m tempted to mention her first orgasm, but I keep that to myself.

  She doesn’t reply.

  “You’re not denying it,” I prod.

  “No, I’m not. The actual act itself was…acceptable.”

  I let out a boisterous laugh. Acceptable? Given her responses and reactions, I’d wager it was way more than simply acceptable. I’ve got to hand it to Skye, though. I’ve never met a woman yet who can hurl it back at me as well as she can. I never realized I’d find that trait so attractive.

  I finally curb my laughter. “Acceptable? You’re something else, Skye.”

  She crosses her arms. “Making fun of me again?”

  “No, I’m not, actually. You are a challenge, Skye Manning, and I never back down from a challenge.”

  Never have I meant words as much as I mean the ones that just left my mouth. I will have Skye Manning. She will submit to me.

  It’s just a matter of when.

  “The act itself was acceptable,” I continue. “Are you saying something else about our time together wasn’t acceptable?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  I smile. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”

  She clears her throat. “Fine. I didn’t like how it ended.”

  “I seem to recall it ended with both of us climaxing. What was wrong with that?”

  “That’s part of the act. The act was acceptable, as I’ve told you. I’m talking about after the act.”

  Interesting. I didn’t behave any differently than I ever do when I’m done with sex. I said goodbye and I contacted Christopher to take the woman home.

  “I believe you left,” I say.

  “That’s not how I’d phrase it. You didn’t say a word to me other than to tell me Christopher would take me home. You left me alone to get dressed—”

  “Did you want help dressing?”

  She uncrosses her arms and extends her fingers. “Would you let me finish? God.” She pulls her hair off her neck.

  Her neck is fabulous—long and creamy and ready for my kisses. “Fine. Go ahead.”

  “You kicked me out, Braden. It was…”

  “It was what?”

  “Humiliating, all right? It was fucking humiliating. I felt…disposable.”

  Humiliating? I treat women well. I always have. I leave them satisfied. Every fucking time. Besides, I will never be held responsible for someone else’s feelings. I stopped that long ago.

  “I don’t regulate how you feel, Skye. You do.”

  She shakes her head and glares at me. Damn, she’s beautiful when she’s angry. All hot and bothered and ready for a good fuck.

  But I glare right back at her. No way will I take the blame for how she’s feeling. “I don’t consider you disposable, so why do you?”

  She curls her hands into fists. “I don’t consider myself disposable, which is why, Braden, if you want me in your bed so badly, you can’t treat me as if I am. You can’t just kick me out when you’re done.”

  “We were both done.”

  “Maybe you were,” she says. “Personally, I had several more orgasms left in me.”

  Really? I resist the urge to chuckle. Does she truly think I’m that ignorant? That I can’t tell when a woman experiences something she’s never experienced before? She’s young. So young. Eleven years my junior. I need to remember that. She’s not nearly as experienced as I am, and she probably thinks I don’t have a clue that she never climaxed before me.

  I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t normally let anyone spend the night at my place.”

  True. I don’t. It’s nothing personal. I’m just not wired for a long-term relationship, and the sooner a woman understands that, the better. Allowing a woman to stay the night—to sleep in my bed—sends the wrong signals. It’s not that I don’t want a woman to spend the night. I believe I’d enjoy it—holding her, waking up next to her, fucking her in the morning. Of course I’d enjoy it. But so would she, and she’d continue to want more that I can’t give her.

  “Then don’t,” Skye says, her brown eyes glowing. “I won’t go back to bed with you if you’re going to make me leave afterward. Simple as that.”

  Fighting words. True fighting words. And if any other woman stood before me and said them, I’d nod, tell her goodbye, and walk away.

  But I can’t walk away from Skye. My feet feel like they’re mired in cement, and the rest of my body seems caught in a force field.

  This woman—t
his young and focused and, in some ways, immature woman—holds me in some kind of a thrall, which should bother me a lot more than it does.

  I don’t beg women to go to bed with me. Ever.

  But Skye somehow planted a feeling inside me, and it’s growing.

  I want her back in my bed.

  I will do whatever is necessary to get her back there.

  I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to get you back in my bed, you can stay until morning. Does that suffice?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t have to stay. I just would like the option.”

  I cock my head, resisting a smile. I understand this woman better than she realizes.

  It’s control she wants.

  She won’t get that with me, but for the moment, I’m willing to give her the illusion of control.

  “I’m beginning to see what you really want,” I say. “It’s not so much that you want to stay. It’s that you want to be the one to decide, isn’t it?”

  She stays silent for a few minutes as people bustle around us in the lobby. The MADD Gala must be breaking up.

  Finally, when the chaos in the lobby settles a bit, “I can’t go back to your bed, Braden.”

  I sear her with my gaze. “You can.”

  “No, I can’t. It just doesn’t feel…”

  I move into her space, feeling the heat that surrounds both of us. “You want to say it doesn’t feel right, Skye. But you’re not that good an actress. It’s a lie, and you know it.”

  I close what little distance remains between us, bend down, breathe onto her ear.

  “Come home with me,” I whisper, “and you can leave whenever you want.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  She goes limp in my arms for a timeless moment.

  And I know I have her.

  I pull back slightly.

  “I…have to tell Tessa,” she says.

  I take her hand and lead her back to the ballroom. Tessa is sitting at our table when we get there. Her purse is still there, too, and she doesn’t seem the least bit annoyed at Skye for abandoning it.

  “What have you two been up to?” she asks.

  “We just—” Skye begins.

  “We’re leaving,” I say. “Can I give you a lift home?”

  “I think I’ll stay, actually. Garrett and I are hitting it off. Peter’s a mess, though.”

  “What’s wrong?” Skye asks.

  “He’s terrified of you,” Tessa says to me, smiling. “Though you don’t seem all that scary to me.”

  She’s flirting, and Skye doesn’t like it. I can tell by the way she goes slightly rigid.

  I like that Skye doesn’t like it. I like it a lot.

  As for Peter, good. I want him scared of me. I don’t want him near Skye. I don’t particularly want Garrett near Tessa, either, but that’s not my business.

  “He just wants a contract with my company,” I say, “and he thinks I won’t give it to him because he was dancing with Skye.”

  “Oh. Is that true?”

  “No. I’m not giving it to him anyway. The decision has already been made.”

  “Does he know?” Tessa asks.

  “He will.” I turn to Skye. “Ready?”

  “Yeah, sure. See you, Tess.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Tessa says.

  Within a few minutes, we’re sitting in the back of my car again with Christopher at the wheel. I inhale and get a whiff of everything Skye. Her raspberry-scented hair, her soft floral cologne, a hint of bourbon, and…her sweet musk.

  Skye leans into me and yawns.

  “Tired?” I ask.

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “Good. You need to be awake for what I have in mind tonight.”

  She quivers. Just a touch, but I can’t help but notice. I’m always tuned in to my women, but with Skye? I’m on a whole different level. I feel everything with her.

  And I’m disturbed at how much I like it, how much I’m beginning to crave it.

  Christopher stops the car in front of my building, and we stay quiet as we walk through the lobby toward my private elevator.

  We stay quiet as I slide my card.

  We stay quiet as we step into the elevator and it zips up to my penthouse.

  We stay quiet, and with every passing microsecond, my need for Skye grows ad infinitum.

  The elevator halts, and the doors slide open, revealing my foyer and living area.

  We’re hardly through the door when—

  “Fuck,” I growl and pin her against the wall beside the entryway, the door still hanging open. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all night. That sexy mouth of yours…and this dress. I ought to rip it off you so no other man can see you in it.”

  She trembles. “It’s Tessa’s.”

  “Don’t care. I’ll buy her a new one.”

  “But I like—”

  “Still don’t care.” I crush my mouth to hers, grab one of the straps of her dress, and pull sharply as I thrust my tongue between her lips.

  The low screech of the ripping fabric turns me on almost as much as this kiss. It means the dress’s days are numbered. Soon I’ll have a naked Skye in my arms…

  She melts into the kiss as I deepen it.

  This is a kiss of determination—a kiss of my will over hers—and I groan when I feel her surrender. Surrender to my lips, teeth, and tongue as our mouths slide together. Her heart beats rapidly, so strong that I feel it as we’re mashed together, her body still pinned against the wall.

  Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump.

  Her heart’s cadence matches my own.

  I’m rough and merciless as I devour her. I rip the other strap of her dress and push it over her shoulder and then downward, until it’s banded around her waist. I slide my hands up her sides and cup her breasts, and then I pull back, our mouths parting with a pop.

  God, a black strapless bra that barely contains her ample tits. Her cheeks and chin pink from the roughness of my stubble against her soft skin. And her lips…

  I gaze at her, focusing on those full lips. “I wish you could see your mouth right now, Skye. Your lipstick is smeared, and your lips are swollen and glistening and parted in that slight way that’s all you.” I drop my gaze. “And these tits. Spectacular.”

  “Bra,” she says, panting.

  “Yeah, fucking sexy. Made for your tits.” In my head are images of the many ways I can relieve her of it, none of them ending with the garment intact.

  “Bra,” she says again. “Don’t rip it.”

  I ignore her command and rip the black lace off her, freeing her breasts. “I’ll buy you a hundred bras, Skye. A new one for every time I fuck you, just so I can rip it off.”

  Her nipples are tight and hard, so ready for my touch. But I don’t touch them. I’m still cupping the rosy flesh of her breasts, still gazing at them.

  “Please,” she says.

  “Please what?”

  “My nipples. Touch them.”

  I can’t help a surly smile. “You want me to touch your nipples, Skye?”

  “Yes, God. Please.”

  I brush my lips against the top of her throat. “How do you want me to touch them, baby?”

  “I don’t care. Just touch them. Please.”

  “What if I don’t?” I tease. “What will you do?”

  She meets my gaze. “I… I’ll leave.”

  Interesting choice, and one I’m not expecting.

  I don’t like games as a rule, and Skye is definitely playing one. I want to get in her pants more than I want my next breath, but I will remain in charge here. Even if it means blue balls tonight.

  I move backward, releasing her breasts. “Go ahead. You’re not obligated to stay here.”

  Already I know she’ll
renege. She clearly wants me as much as I want her. Her breasts are swollen and her nipples erect. A sheen of perspiration shines on her flesh, and her fragrance. Damn. She’s wet and hot and ready.

  No, she doesn’t want to leave. But she’ll claim to, because she doesn’t want to give me the upper hand.

  Fuck. Skye Manning. A challenge.

  And I love a challenge.

  She clears her throat. “Fine. But I’ll need a…shirt or something.”

  I glare at her. How far is she willing to take this? Because I will win this battle.

  She opens her mouth, but I push her back against the wall, my hands gripping her shoulders. I move toward her slowly until our lips are only millimeters apart. God, I want to close the minute gap and kiss her, slide my tongue between those luscious lips and head into the bedroom. And I know she wants the same.

  But I didn’t get where I am today by giving in, and I won’t give in now.

  She will.

  And she does.

  She closes the distance and presses her lips to mine.

  I pull back, still gripping her shoulders. “I thought you wanted to leave.”

  “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

  “When did I say that?” I ask. “You’re the one who brought it up. What kind of a game do you think I’m playing, Skye?”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “That’s because I’m not playing a game. You may think this is a cat-and-mouse thing, but it’s not. I enjoy making you want me.”

  “Braden, you know I want you, but if you ever tell me to leave again, this whole thing is over.”

  “Is it?”

  She gulps. How far will she truly go? Will she leave just to remain in control?

  “I’m afraid so,” she finally says.

  I’m hard as a rock. I could so easily whip out my cock, push her against the wall, and shove into her from behind. She’d let me, and God, I want her so badly.

  But I release her, walk through the entryway to a closet, and open it. I pull a blue cardigan out, walk back, and hand it to her. “Go ahead, Skye. Leave.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I don’t want her to leave.

  She doesn’t want to leave.

  Her eyes tell the tale—their bourbon-hued depth defies her and shows the truth. She glances downward and then toward the blue sweater I hold.