Follow Me Always

by HELEN HARDT

  “All right. My father set our house on fire when he was drunk once. My mother…”

  Shit. His mother. The mother he won’t talk about. “What? What about your mother?”

  “She was badly burned.”

  “Oh my God. Did she…”

  “No, she didn’t die. Not at that time, anyway.”

  His response puzzles me. “Your father… He didn’t…do it on purpose, did he?”

  He shakes his head. “It was an accident. A drunken accident. But insurance wouldn’t pay because they called it arson, and my father couldn’t prove he hadn’t set the fire on purpose, so he lost the house. Then, my mother’s medical bills were so outrageous…”

  “And that’s how you ended up going to the food pantry.”

  He nods. “My mother always wore a scarf over her face to hide the scarring.”

  I swallow, choking back tears. Poor Braden. Poor Ben. Poor Mrs. Black. She must have been beautiful to produce such beautiful children.

  I stop at a red light. “How did you ever forgive your father?”

  He turns toward me, his sapphire gaze burning. “What makes you think I have?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “He works for you,” I say. “I just assumed—”

  “He got sober. He’s smart. He works hard. He’s my father. I wouldn’t exist if not for him. So I let him ride on my coattails, and he’s good at his job. Doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him.”

  “And Ben?”

  He chuckles. “Your turn.”

  How is this not public knowledge? Dozens of publications have written extensively about Braden and his family, and of course, I’ve read them all.

  “Braden…”

  “Nope. Your turn.”

  I can’t top that. My father isn’t a drunk. My mother isn’t scarred. Sure, they separated for a few months when I was young. I still don’t know why, but we never lost our home, and we always had food on the table.

  Things I took for granted all those years. Things I still take for granted now.

  I turn onto the main road, and our small town comes into view. “Welcome to Liberty. Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”

  “It’s charming,” he says.

  “It has a bit of charm,” I agree, “but the charm goes to shit when you’re looking for a good cup of coffee and all that’s available is Mrs. Temper’s black water at the Sunrise Café.”

  He chuckles.

  Funny. I’ve seen him laugh more since I got home than I have in the weeks we were together in Boston.

  I drive to the tiny hotel. “Only four rooms. You were lucky to get one.”

  “Are they usually booked?”

  “I was being sarcastic, Braden. No one comes here.” I pull into an open spot on the street. “Here you go.”

  “Want to come up?”

  “Don’t you think my father will notice if I don’t come straight home?”

  “I’m not asking you to have sex, Skye. I’m just asking…” He sighs. “Hell, I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m asking.”

  “Aren’t they expecting you in New York?” I ask.

  “They are. But they’ll wait. Not like they have a choice.”

  “I suppose not.”

  He grabs the car door handle but holds onto it, not opening the passenger door. “Skye…”

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you, either.”

  “At the dinner table, watching you… God, I want you so much.”

  He’s anguished. Not unnerved—or perplexed, as he likes to put it—as I’ve seen him many times before, but truly anguished.

  “Braden, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

  That’s a lie, and we both know it. “Thank you,” I say.

  “For what?”

  “For telling me about your mother. It means a lot to me.”

  “Oh, Skye… In the grand scheme of things, I’ve told you nothing.”

  He doesn’t grab me or try to kiss me.

  I’m disappointed, but part of me understands. He’s in a weird headspace. He told me things he probably doesn’t let himself think about often. In fact, I know that to be true, as neither he nor Ben talk about their mother.

  “When are you flying to New York?” I ask.

  “Sometime tomorrow.”

  I clear my throat. “Would you like to—”

  “Take you with me?”

  I gasp in astonishment. “No! Where did that come from?”

  “You begged me to take you to New York last week.”

  “Yeah, and we all know how that turned out.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  Is he having regrets?

  “Why is everything black-and-white with you, Braden?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I asked you for something you didn’t want to give me. Instead of working it out, finding a compromise, you ended our relationship.”

  “I wouldn’t have ended it if you could have answered my question.”

  “Maybe I need your help to find the answer.”

  “Do you?” he asks.

  “I…don’t know. Maybe.”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t. If you needed me, you wouldn’t have come here. To your hometown. You would have come to me.”

  And it dawns on me then.

  Maybe I don’t need him to find my answers.

  But he needs me.

  And he hates that he needs me. It disturbs him. It perplexes him.

  “Stop fighting yourself, Braden,” I say.

  “I don’t know how to.”

  I lift my brow. Not the response I expected. I was thinking more along the lines of, You don’t know what you’re talking about, Skye.

  Apparently I do know what I’m talking about.

  As much as my own psyche confuses me sometimes, perhaps I know myself better than Braden knows himself.

  “Will you come up with me?” he asks once again.

  “My father—”

  “Your father knows you’re an adult.”

  “True, but—”

  “Please, Skye. Come up with me. Make love with me.”

  “You just said you weren’t asking me to have sex.”

  “I’m not. I’m asking you to make love.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “Meaning just you and me. No toys. No games. No bindings and no commands. Just the act itself. I want to experience something special with you.”

  “What’s so special about vanilla sex?”

  He pauses a moment, staring out the windshield, and finally, when I’m convinced he’s never going to speak again—

  “I’ve never done it before.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  My mouth drops open. “Never?”

  “How can that possibly surprise you?”

  “I…” Words don’t come. Should it surprise me? I already know that he and Addie got kinky, but I know nothing about any of his other conquests. He owns a BDSM club. Why is his revelation so surprising?

  Because everyone begins at the vanilla level.

  Right?

  Everyone, apparently, except Braden Black.

  “You’ve really never just made love? Without all the…”

  “The word you’re looking for is kink, Skye. Without all the kink.”

  I clear my throat. “Yeah. The kink. The dominance.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because”—he clears his throat—“I’ve never had the desire to. Not until now.”

  My flesh warms, and a tingle flashes through me. He wants to make love. Just make love. And he wa
nts to do it with me.

  “All right, Braden. I’ll go up with you.”

  A few moments later we’re in his hotel room. The bed is queen-sized, not what we’re used to when we’re together, and the décor is Early American, not the sleek sophistication that graces Braden’s bedrooms.

  Still, it seems perfect.

  He stands and stares at me.

  “Well…?” I say.

  He smiles. Yes, a smile. Kind of a shy smile. Very un-Braden-like. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “You’ve never had that problem before,” I say.

  “You’re right, because I’ve always known where I’m going. Even when you challenged me at every corner, I knew where I was going and I ultimately got there. The fact that you made me work for it was part of the game.”

  “We were a game?”

  “I don’t mean it in a bad way, Skye, but you know as well as I do that we were playing a game of cat and mouse.”

  I sigh. He’s right. I’m as guilty as he is of manipulation.

  “Somewhere along the line I fell in love,” he says. “And not because you succumbed to me eventually.”

  “Then why?”

  He chuckles. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve asked myself that question? And the only answer I’ve come up with is that love isn’t always rational.”

  “So loving me is irrational? That’s not really a compliment, Braden.”

  “That’s not what I mean. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful. You’re talented. And God, you’re a challenge. I once told you that you’re my Everest. You are. Even after you gave up all your control to me, you’re still a challenge. I just didn’t expect…”

  “What?”

  “To fall in love.” He pauses a moment. “Usually, after I conquer something, I go on to the next thing.”

  “And you feel you’ve conquered me?”

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “What exactly are you saying, then?”

  “Whether I conquer you is no longer the issue. The issue is that I’m in love with you, and I have no desire to go on to the next thing.”

  Again I feel warm and tingly.

  “Never in my life have I had a desire for vanilla sex. But damn it, Skye, I want to make love to you. I want to touch you and I want you to touch me. I don’t want to take away any of your senses. I don’t want to deprive you of an orgasm or punish you. I don’t want to tie you up this time. I just want to lie next to you, as your equal, and make love to you.”

  Again, he pauses. I open my mouth, but he gestures me not to talk yet.

  “And Skye?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m fucking…”

  “What, Braden? What?”

  “I’m scared, Skye. Fucking scared, and I’ve never been scared of anything in my adult life.”

  His eyes are tormented, and I melt into his arms. Braden Black just admitted vulnerability. To me. To Skye Manning.

  Something he’s probably never admitted to another human being, including himself.

  “It’s okay,” I say against his chest.

  “It’s not,” he says. “I don’t like this feeling.”

  I pull back.

  “I don’t mean the love I feel for you. I just mean… I’m not sure I can put it into words.”

  I nod. “I think I can. Vulnerability means you’re not in control. I went through this same thing a few weeks ago when we began. It’s difficult, but it’s not insurmountable.”

  “I feel like I’m not myself.”

  I can’t help a soft laugh. “Boy, do I know where you’re coming from.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to take you to bed and make love to you.”

  I smile. “Okay.”

  He leads me to the bed. He doesn’t command me to undress or to undress him. We undress each other. Slowly. Methodically. Relishing each new inch of flesh we expose on the other, until we both stand naked. Naked and vulnerable.

  Braden takes my hand and places it on his shoulder. “Touch me, Skye. Please.”

  So many times I’ve been bound and unable to touch him. How I’ve ached for a moment like this. I’m trembling—actually trembling.

  I trail my fingers over the golden warmth of his muscled shoulder and down his upper arm all the way to his perfect hand, where I entwine my fingers with his.

  He closes his eyes. “I ache for your touch, Skye. I fucking ache for it.”

  “Why do you bind me, then? Why do you make it so I can’t touch you except on your terms?”

  His eyes still closed, he sighs. “I ache for that, too. I’ve always wanted women that way. But it’s different with you. I want the darkness, but I also want the light.”

  “And that frightens you,” I say more to myself than to him.

  He nods. “Please. Touch all of me.”

  I lean into him and kiss his muscled chest. I’ve kissed his lips before, sucked his dick, but I’ve never been allowed to touch him all over. Every beautiful and magnificent part of him.

  His cock is hard and gorgeous, as usual, and though it beckons me, I choose to do as he asks. I touch him. Simply touch him, all ten of my fingers sliding over his majestic male flesh. He’s warm, and he shudders at my caress.

  I shake my head in amazement that my simple touch affects him like this, makes him tremble and softly moan.

  His pecs are hard and muscled, and when I flick over one nipple, it hardens beneath my finger. I move downward, over his six-pack abs to the triangle of black hair. I entwine my fingers through it, avoiding his cock even though I want more than anything to fall to my knees and suck him deeply.

  I move around his waist to his back, caress the cheeks of his perfectly formed ass, and then press into him as I glide around his back to his shoulders once more. I brush my lips over his chest, and another slight shudder racks through him.

  I kiss his chest again, moving my lips slightly each time, until I press a kiss to a nipple.

  He inhales. “Damn.”

  I flick my tongue over the nipple, relishing its erection, and then I close my lips over it and softly suck.

  He trembles again, sucking in another breath.

  “Tell me what you want,” I whisper.

  “You’re doing it. I want your touch. Everywhere.”

  I lift my chin and kiss his lips softly. He opens and our tongues meet gently for a few seconds. Then I end the kiss and rain soft pecks along his stubbled jawline, giggling as his stubble tickles me. I move to his neck then, kissing down to his broad shoulder once more. Where before my fingers led, now my lips take over, as I sprinkle soft kisses over his chest and abs. When I reach his cock, I give the head a few flicks of my tongue, resulting in more sucked-in breaths and groans, and then I head downward to his hard-muscled thighs. I explore him with my hands and lips simultaneously, delighting in the pleasure of pleasing him.

  Giving him something he’s never asked for before. Something he’s probably never experienced with any other woman before.

  And I feel power.

  Power in the fact that he wants my touch.

  Power in his surrender to me.

  So it’s not technically a surrender, as we’re going to make love to each other, but for Braden? It’s a relinquishment of his control.

  This must be huge for him. No wonder he’s scared.

  He’s as scared as I was when I first gave up control to him.

  And now it’s my turn.

  My turn to take control. Not just over his body for these few precious moments, but over my life. It’s time to figure out Skye Manning.

  I’ll begin here. In this hotel room with the man I love.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I travel down his thighs, over his knees, down his
calves to his bare feet, touching, kissing, pleasing him.

  Then I stand, entwine both my hands with his, and lead him to the bed.

  Yes, I lead him.

  His magnificent body is mine tonight. All mine, just as mine is his. “You’re so beautiful, Braden,” I say breathlessly.

  “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

  I can’t help a chuckle. “Probably because you don’t let them speak.”

  He smiles. That smile I saw tonight at dinner. That smile I so seldom see. He’s letting a part of himself out with me tonight, a part he keeps trapped inside. I don’t yet know why he does this, but I’m honored that he’s sharing it with me.

  Which means I owe him the same. I need to find out why neck binding and breath control are so important to me so I can share it with him. Make him understand.

  “Touché,” he says. “But as far as beauty goes, I’m nothing compared to you. You’re lovely, Skye, and not just on the outside.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m a challenge.”

  “That’s part of it, but you go deeper than that, and you know it.”

  Warmth envelops me. “Thank you. I’m not sure anyone’s ever given me a more profound compliment.”

  “I mean it. Yeah, you drive me wild, sometimes to anger. But it’s because you’re so provocative.”

  “I provoke you, huh?”

  “God, yes.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “It’s both.” He sits up and flips me onto my back. “My turn to touch you all over.”

  I moan softly. “Please, Braden. Please touch me.”

  He begins at the top, gently kissing my forehead. It’s an almost nurturing feeling, as if he’s checking if I have a fever. Yet it’s not nurturing at the same time. It’s sensual because it’s Braden—the man I love and who loves me back.

  I let my eyes flutter closed, and then his lips touch my eyelids in the softest of caresses.

  He kisses my eyes. Such a minor thing, but it sends me reeling. Goosebumps erupt all over me, and my core pulses with aching need.

  How will I survive this? Braden kissing and touching me all over when I need him inside me, fucking me?

  I sigh as he moves his lips down my jawline while cupping my breasts at the same time. Fingers tease my nipples, and then he pinches them. I lift my hips with a moan. He’s kissing my neck now—that sensitive neck—and I shiver.