The Wrong/Right Man

by Aurora Rose Reynolds

  DAKOTA

  I FEEL MY cell phone buzz in the back pocket of my jeans, and I don’t even bother checking to see who it is. Braxton has been calling and messaging for the last hour and a half. I messaged him back after the first text, letting him know I was getting a drink with a few of my coworkers but would be at his place for dinner and conversation about him sending Hanna down to talk to Kathy and me.

  Unsurprisingly, he sent a message immediately asking where I was having a drink, who I was having a drink with, and informing me that we didn’t need to talk about Kathy or Hanna. I didn’t bother disagreeing with him, since I want him to see my face when I reinforce my point.

  When someone laughs loudly, I come out of my head and look around the table, finding everyone cracking up; about what, I’m not sure. I’ve always been a little awkward when getting to know new people. I have a tendency to watch and listen before I let people in—a trait that makes people think I’m a bitch when I’m not.

  Tonight, hasn’t been any different. I don’t know where I fit in. They’ve all been working together for a while. They have built friendships, have inside jokes, and are all alike in a way that makes me feel like an outsider.

  “I think I’m going to call it a night,” I say, and all eyes come to me.

  “It’s still early,” my coworker Samantha replies, glancing at her watch. “Don’t you want to at least finish your drink?”

  I look at my second beer, which I only took a couple sips of, and shake my head. “I really should get home, I need to eat dinner and I want to get some sleep so that I’m ready for my show tomorrow.”

  “Don’t overthink the shit Kathy says,” Mat tells me with a shake of his head. “I’ve been working here for three years, and she’s never liked any of my ideas, which sucks. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. She doesn’t have the final say, what matters are ratings and sales.”

  “Really?” That surprises me.

  “Yeah, and the bigwigs know she’s stuck in the past, but since her niece is sleeping with the CEO, it doesn’t matter.”

  My stomach turns. Still, I manage to ask, “What do you mean?”

  I know Braxton said that he and Hanna are not together and haven’t been intimate, but could they be sleeping together? I didn’t think Troy was cheating on me. I didn’t have a clue until I saw photos.

  “Mr. Adams and his assistant Hanna have been together forever. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are wedding bells at some point soon.”

  “I would be,” a deep voice says from behind me, making me jump while Mat’s face pales.

  Knowing who just arrived, I turn on my stool and glare up at the handsome guy who looks ready to pick me up and drag me out of here.

  “Dakota.”

  “Braxton,” I say, and his eyes narrow. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been calling you,” he replies, and I hear a gasp come from behind me. “You’re not picking up your phone.”

  “I’m with friends.”

  “I see that.” He looks around the table, and I have no doubt everyone is wondering what the hell is going on, how I know the CEO of IMG, and why he would be calling me. No doubt, they are coming up with a million different scenarios, and I’m sure that most of them would be correct. “Dinner is ready at my place.”

  So much for keeping things between us on the low. “You are unbelievable.”

  “So you’ve said.” His eyes lock with mine. “Are you ready to go or would you like to have a conversation here?”

  “I hate you,” I hiss just loud enough for him to hear as I stand, and then I turn to face the table, grabbing my bag. “I’m sorry, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

  “Yeah… sure,” Chris and Mat say in unison while the rest of the table of women stare at me in disbelief, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth between Braxton to me.

  “Night.” I turn and stomp past Braxton, wondering exactly what I would have to do to hurt him without hurting myself, because I swear to God the minute I get outside, I’m going to kick his ass for what he just did. Once again, he ignored me and what I wanted so he could get his way.

  “Dakota.” He tries to take my hand when I push out of the bar, but I jerk away, not wanting everyone I can feel watching from the windows of the bar to see me lose my mind.

  I march swiftly down the block then hurry across the street, glancing at Braxton out the corner of my eye. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world; then again, I guess he doesn’t. His coworkers are not going to think he got his job by sleeping with the boss and that he’s possibly a home-wrecker. “Might I ask where we’re going?” he prompts when we reach the elevator in our building and step inside.

  “To your place, so I can kill you without anyone watching,” I bite out, getting even more pissed when his lips twitch. “This isn’t funny, Braxton. I’m so mad at you right now.”

  “I know.” He turns to face me after waving his watch across the front screen of the elevator, causing the doors to close.

  “Why would you do that? Why would you show up when I told you just last night that I want to keep whatever this is quiet?”

  “Dakota, I own this building, and this morning you made a show of leaving the gym with me. You don’t think some of my employees witnessed that?”

  Shit, I didn’t even think about that. Why didn’t I think about that? Oh right, because normal people don’t own buildings. Normal people own houses or condos. I cross my arms over my chest and continue to glare at him.

  “I’m sure the people who saw us leave the gym together have already started to spread rumors about you and me and what our relationship might be. You’re not my dirty little secret, and I refuse to have anyone believe you are.”

  “It should have been my choice, Braxton.” I shove a hand against his chest, and he captures it, holding it over his heart. “I really don’t like you.”

  “That’s okay. I like you enough for the two of us.” He captures my other wrist when I try to push him away then begin to pant when he maneuvers my hands behind my back, bringing us chest-to-chest and face-to-face. “You make me crazy.”

  “Then we’re even,” I hiss, pushing up on my tiptoes—something I realize was the wrong move as his breath brushes my lips. “Let me go.”

  “Never.”

  “Braxton.” I start to panic as desire begins to swirl in my stomach.

  “Dakota.” I swallow and drop my eyes to his mouth.

  “Tell me you want it, tell me to kiss you.”

  I lick my lips then whisper, “Kiss me, Braxton.”

  His mouth crashes down on mine and he kisses me, forcing his tongue between my lips as he drags me out of the elevator, my bag slipping off my shoulder. He catches it, and I get one of my hands free, using it to pull his shirt out of his slacks so I can run my hand up over his abs. He uses his free hand to toss my bag away before he tangles his fingers in my hair at the back of my head, keeping me right where he wants me.

  “Braxton,” I breathe when he lets my mouth go to kiss down my neck.

  “Don’t deny me, Dakota.” He sounds desperate as he lets go of my other wrist so he can slide his hand under my shirt to the waistband of my pants. “I need you.” He moves around my waist and he flicks open the button of my grey slacks before sliding his hand into my panties, his fingers finding my clit, making my knees weak as he rolls over it.

  I latch onto his shoulder, digging my nails in as he turns us and walks me backward, his mouth coming back to mine while I work at getting his shirt unbuttoned.

  Obviously fed up with us fumbling our way to his bed, he scoops me up and carries me across the room to a wall of smoky glass doors. He slides them open one-handed and takes me to the side of the bed, dropping me to my feet at the side.

  “Clothes off.” He steps back and slips out of his shirt before working his belt buckle loose. I watch him with fascination, his body like a work of art that needs to be appreciated. “Dakota,” he growls, making me
jump. “Take your clothes off if you don’t want me to shred them.”

  I lick my lips and slip off my flats before I slowly pull my top over my head. When he has nothing on but his pants, I push my grey slacks down my thighs.

  “Fuck, I can see how wet you are.” His eyes devour me from head to toe as I stand before him in nothing but my panties and a bra, breathing heavy. I wait for him to touch me, my skin already on fire with anticipation. He steps toward me, his hand balling into a fist like he’s not sure where to start, where to touch me first.

  I put my hands behind my back and unclasp my bra, letting it fall from my shoulders. His eyes darken and his jaw tics as the material lands on the floor. I don’t hesitate to slip off my panties, and I’m so wet the cool air makes me shiver.

  “Now what?” I question.

  “I’m trying to figure that out.” He reaches for me, his finger skimming the tip of my nipple, and it tightens. “I don’t know where to start. I don’t know if I want to eat you first or bend you over the bed and fuck you until you scream my name.”

  I don’t tell him I’ll be happy either way, but judging by the way his lips curve up ever so slightly, he knows what I’m thinking. I hold my breath as he walks around me and moan when he cups my breast from behind, lowering his mouth to my shoulder. My head tips to the side, giving him access to my neck as one of his hands travels slowly down my stomach to between my legs.

  The first touch of his fingers makes my head fall back and my eyes slide closed. He nips my earlobe as his fingers slide past my clit to fill me, and I start to open my legs wider, to give him more room, but his teeth sink into my flesh in a silent demand not to move. I grab hold of his forearm, willing myself to hold strong. The pleasure builds, threatening to bring me to my knees as his fingers thrust into me slowly and his thumb rolls over my clit.

  Just as I’m about to fall over the edge, he moves me around to face the bed and bends me over. My core tightens right before I cry out in frustration when he removes his fingers from me, and then I cry out for a different reason when he drops to his knees and his mouth latches onto my clit from behind. His fingers dig into my hips to hold me in place as he devours me like he’s starving, his tongue, teeth, and lips sending me closer to the edge.

  My body shakes and my toes try to find purchase against the wood floor as my head thrashes from side to side. When his thumb presses against my entrance, I fall over the cliff, shouting his name. Stars fill my vision, my body feels light as a feather, and my skin tingles from my hips to my toes. Just as I’m starting to come back to myself, his body covers mine and he enters me without warning in one smooth thrust.

  The head of his cock bumps my cervix, and I feel him throb inside me, seeming to take up every inch of space. Wanting more of him, needing more of him, I lift up on my hands and push back against him, listening to him groan. He wraps his hand around my hair when I toss my head back, and then he pulls me up, angling my head so he can cover my mouth with his. His mouth is hungry, desperate, and branding as he kisses me, and in that moment, I know I’m already his.

  He fucks me harder and harder until I’m once again stumbling over the edge of pleasure, only this time he falls with me, locking his hips against mine after one final thrust. We both tumble forward onto the bed, his body heavy on top of mine and our breathing erratic as we soak up the last pulse of pleasure.

  When he rolls away, I miss his weight but then relish the feel of his skin against mine as he drapes me across his chest and once more tangles his fingers into my hair. I rest my forehead in the crook of his neck and wrap my hand around his side, feeling sated and sleepy.

  “Are you okay?” His voice is gruff but warm, and I tip my head back to meet his gaze.

  “Yeah, are you?”

  “Better, now that I’ve had you again.” He smiles when I smack his chest. “What? I missed you.”

  “You missed the vagina.”

  His eyes lock with mine, looking deadly serious. “No, I missed you.”

  I chew on my bottom lip then swallow. I want to tell him that I missed him too, that I missed connecting with him like we just did, even if we only shared that for one night, but I manage to keep my mouth shut.

  He sighs then smooths a finger across my forehead to behind my ear. “I can wait.”

  I somehow doubt that. Instead of pointing out his behavior, I rest my head back against his chest, and then my stomach growls when I smell something delicious. It reminds me that I didn’t eat anything but a package of mixed nuts at lunch today, because I was anxious to get back to work so I could try to impress Kathy with some new ideas for tomorrows show. “I’m starving.”

  “You wouldn’t be so hungry if you’d just come here when you were supposed to.”

  “I didn’t give you a time when I would be here,” I remind him, lifting my head off his chest to narrow my eyes on him. “And I went out, because I wanted to try to get to know the people I work with, since I do have to work with them and wouldn’t mind having some friends.”

  “I’m your friend.”

  If I’m not wrong, there is a little bit of jealousy in his tone, like I couldn’t possibly want to be friends with anyone else when I’ve got him.

  “You’re also the CEO of IMG. I can’t talk crap about my job or your company to you.”

  “Why not?” he asks, kissing me swiftly before rolling me off him and getting out of bed.

  I blink at the sudden change of position, unsure if he’s serious, and when I see he is, I just shake my head, not even attempting to help him understand. I get up and start to search for my clothes but stop when he hands me a T-shirt. I put it on over my head, and it hits me midthigh, long enough that I don’t need to worry about pants.

  “Let’s feed you,” he says, walking out of the bedroom, wearing nothing but his boxers, and I follow him, glaring at his back as I hop into my panties.

  “Let’s talk about you sending Hanna down to talk to Kathy.”

  “That was not me; that was all Chris. He saw your work,” he replies over his shoulder as he walks toward the kitchen.

  “You showed Chris my work.”

  He smiles. “I showed him your work, and he agreed with me and thought we should send Hanna down to try to convince you to meet with him.” He disappears as he bends at the waist, and then a moment later, he comes up with a pan covered with foil, placing it on the counter.

  “You should know that didn’t convince me. All it did was make me mad.”

  “I got that from your message.” He sighs, getting out two plates, and then he goes to the fridge, grabbing two bowls filled with salad.

  “Do you want help?” I might be annoyed, but I don’t want to be rude.

  “You can pick a bottle of wine,” he says then lifts his chin in the direction of the dining table. “I have a wine room. You’ll see it now that you know you’re looking for it.”

  “A wine room?” I repeat in disbelief.

  “A wine room.” He grins.

  “You have too much money.” I step away from the kitchen, hearing him laugh as I head around the corner, seeing a large wood-framed door with tinted glass. I walk toward it and the light turns on, allowing the bottles of wine inside to be seen. I open the door and step into the room, overwhelmed while looking around at the shelves lining the walls. I don’t even know what kind of wine goes with what foods—not that it would help if I did, since I don’t know what we’re eating.

  Grabbing one of the bottles, I take it with me out of the room toward the kitchen but stop when a large painting catches my attention. I tip my head one way then the other, trying to understand what I’m looking at. I’m not sure, but it kind of looks like a woman sitting naked on a toilet, but that would be weird.

  “Sweetheart, don’t even bother trying to figure out what it is,” Braxton says, and I look over to find him leaning his shoulder against the wall, watching me.

  “Is it a woman on the toilet?”

  “It could be.” He shrugs, pushing of
f the wall to step toward me then takes the bottle of wine before grasping my hand. “Are you ready to eat?”

  “Why do you have a painting of a woman on a toilet in your dining room?” I ask when he pulls out a stool in a silent demand for me to sit, so I do.

  “My mom painted it. She took an art class a few years ago and convinced herself that she’s now an artist,” he says, leaving me on the opposite side of the counter as he walks back around into the kitchen, still speaking. “She gave me that painting as a housewarming gift, and then she hung it. I don’t have the heart to take it or the other pieces she’s hung down.”

  He stops to inspects the bottle of wine I chose, and I blurt, “I don’t know anything about wine.”

  “You might not, but you chose well. This exact bottle of Penfolds Grange Hermitage was auctioned off a couple years ago for close to fifty grand.”

  My jaw drops. “You’re joking.”

  “Nope,” he says as he places some kind of apparatus onto the top of the bottle and starts to press the button.

  I shoot up out of my chair when he turns it on and climb up on the island. “What are you doing?”

  “Opening the wine.” He eyes me where I’m now balanced on top of the counter, reaching toward him.

  “You can’t open that.” I try to grab it, but I’m too far away.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you just said it cost fifty thousand dollars. You don’t ingest something that cost fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Dakota, it’s wine. It’s meant to be enjoyed.”

  “Well, my wine pallet isn’t refined enough to enjoy it, so give it to someone who at least loves wine enough to know what kind of wine goes best with meat or noodles.”

  “You enjoy wine.” He presses the button, and the contraption makes a whirring sound that sends my heart into my stomach.

  “I can’t believe you’re opening it,” I groan, falling face-forward onto the counter. “That’s more than what most people make in a year and enough money to put a kid through college.”

  “It’s also just wine,” he says, and I lift my head to glare at him. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t buy it. It was a gift.”