Chapter Twenty

“I… I have to tell Tessa.”

He takes my hand and leads me back to the ballroom. Tessa is sitting at our table when we get there.

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

“We’re leaving,” Braden says. “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?”

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

There she goes flirting again. Braden is pretty scary, though not in the way Tessa means.

“He just wants a contract with my company,” he says, “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?” she asks.

“He will.” Braden turns to me. “Ready?”

“Yeah, sure. See you, Tess.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says.

Within a few minutes, I’m sitting in the back of Braden’s car again with Christopher at the wheel. I inhale. Braden’s ridiculously masculine scent is now my favorite cologne in the world. I yawn inadvertently.

“Tired?” he asks.

“No, I’m okay.” Though I am a little tired, probably from the Wild Turkey. Not drunk but sleepy.

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

I suppress a quiver. I’m already wet. So ready.

We’re quiet the remainder of the trip. Braden leaves me alone…until we get safely to his place.

We’re not even through the door when—

“Fuck,” he growls and pins me 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.”

I tremble. “It’s Tessa’s.”

“Don’t care. I’ll buy her a new one.”

“But I like—”

“Still don’t care.” He crushes his mouth to mine, grabs one of the straps of my dress, and pulls sharply as he thrusts his tongue between my lips.

The low screech of the ripping fabric. No, not Tessa’s dress!

But that’s the last thought of Tessa’s dress. That’s the last thought for a while as pure emotion bubbles through me, taking away all logic and rationale. All I want is this kiss, this raw meeting of our mouths, our lips, our tongues.

I melt into the kiss as he deepens it. Braden’s kisses are not average kisses. Nothing about Braden is average. His sheer will and ambition take over with everything he does, including kissing and fucking.

I can’t wait to get to the fucking again.

For now, though, I surrender to his lips, teeth, and tongue, let my hunger take over as our mouths slide together in a haunting rhythm that matches the cadence of my rapidly beating heart. His mouth is rough and merciless, and as he devours me, he rips the other strap and pushes it over my shoulder. My dress is banded around my waist, my strapless black bra in full view.

He slides his hands up my sides and cups my breasts, and then he pulls back, our mouths parting with a pop.

He gazes at me, focusing on my 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.” He drops his gaze. “And these tits. Spectacular.”

I’m panting at his words, my panties melting from the heat. “Bra,” I say.

“Yeah, fucking sexy. Made for your tits.”

“Bra. Don’t rip it.” The bra is mine, and it wasn’t cheap. Finding a strapless bra to adequately support my Cs wasn’t easy.

But please rip it.

He follows my thought instead of my spoken plea and rips it off me anyway, freeing my 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.”

My nipples are tight and hard, so ready for his touch. But he doesn’t touch them. Can’t he see them reaching for him? Instead, he’s still cupping the rosy flesh of my breasts, still gazing at them.

“Please,” I say when I can no longer take the ache.

“Please what?”

“My nipples. Touch them.”

His lips turn up into a surly smile. “You want me to touch your nipples, Skye?”

“Yes, God. Please.”

He brushes his lips against the top of my throat. “How do you want me to touch them, baby?”

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

“What if I don’t? What will you do?”

What? What can I do? Nothing. I can do nothing if he doesn’t touch my nipples. What kind of mind game is he playing with me? Perhaps he’s simply teasing me, and I’m so not in the mood for teasing. I meet his fiery blue gaze. “I… I’ll leave.”

He moves backward, releasing my breasts. “Go ahead. You’re not obligated to stay here.”

Seriously? He gets me all hot and bothered and then wants me to leave? I’m ready to call him out on this little mind fuck until I drop my gaze to his crotch. His tux trousers are tented. Big-time.

He doesn’t want me to leave.

Two can play this game.

I clear my throat. “Fine. But I’ll need a…shirt or something.” An overcoat would be better.

He shoots darts at me with his eyes.

Do I repeat myself? He knows I can’t leave here without something covering the top of me, and my bra and dress are in tatters. I open my mouth to speak, but he pushes me back against the wall, his hands gripping my shoulders. He moves toward me slowly until our lips are only millimeters apart. He’s playing again. I know because his lips are trembling. He’s using all his will to keep from kissing me. I’m not completely sure, but that’s my take.

I close the distance and press my lips to his.

He pulls back, still gripping my shoulders. “I thought you wanted to leave.”

“I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“When did I say that?” he queries. “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?”

I gulp. How much will I give up to remain in charge? How fucking much?

“I’m afraid so.”

His bulge is still apparent. He won’t let me go. He won’t.

He releases me, walks through the entryway to a large door, and opens it. He pulls something out and walks back, handing it to me. It’s a blue cardigan.

“Go ahead, Skye. Leave.”