On the opposite wall sit two wingback chairs in navy with gold flecks. The bed is flanked by two mahogany end tables with lamps on each.
“This is amazing,” I say.
“It’s a nice place to come home to at night.”
“I’ll say. If this were mine, I’m not sure I’d ever get out of bed.”
A soft growl emerges, seeming to come from his chest as he takes off his suit jacket. “I like the sound of that.”
I hold back a quiver.
I’m already wet between my legs. Have been since he picked me up at Addie’s office. Everything about Braden is sex on a stick—his silky dark hair, his searing blue eyes, the baritone timbre of his voice, his masculine hands, the way his suit hugs his body.
Yeah, I’ve seen his body.
The GQ spread included a shot of him on the beach. Yum. I’m about find out how much he was Photoshopped.
Not much, I hope.
Actually, it doesn’t matter. I’m doing him no matter what. I made that decision in the restaurant last night, even if I postponed it twenty-four hours.
Or did he make the decision for me?
I erase that thought from my mind. I need to think I’m the one who decided, to save at least some semblance of being in charge.
I’m going to fuck Braden Black.
“Take off your clothes,” he says, “slowly.”
My face heats. Am I actually going to do this? If the pounding of my heart is any indication, the answer is a very resounding yes. I unbutton my blouse. No problem. I can still stay in control. Though I don’t want to disobey him. I want to obey him without question, which scares the hell out of me.
One button. Two buttons. Three—
Until he yanks the shirttail out from my jeans and finishes the job by ripping the two halves apart. Buttons fly, one pinging the wardrobe door but most of them falling quietly onto the plush ivory carpeting.
“Couldn’t wait,” he says huskily.
My nipples harden and press against the lace of my bra. Braden flicks one over the fabric, and my knees buckle.
“Take it off,” he growls. “I want to see those tits.”
Again, I obey without question. I unclasp the bra slowly, ease my arms out, and let it fall to the floor at my feet. My ample Cs fall gently against my chest.
Braden’s eyelids lower, and the soft growl comes from his chest again. He loosens his tie and removes it, tossing it on the floor. Then he unbuttons the first two buttons of his crisp white shirt. Black chest hair peeks out. The perfect amount, like I saw in the GQ photos. Braden Black doesn’t manscape, and for some reason that’s a huge turn-on.
He reaches toward me, and I shiver as he cups my breasts.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs and thumbs both my nipples.
I sigh softly.
“Do you like your nipples sucked? Or pinched?”
“All of the above,” I say.
“Oh, baby. We’re going to get along just fine.” He twists my nipples just hard enough to make me groan. “You like that?”
I close my eyes. “Mm-hmm.”
“Say yes, Skye. Always say yes. I need to hear the word.”
Why? I wonder briefly before I say, “Yes. I like that, Braden.”
“Your voice is sexy. I love the way you say my name. Say it again.”
“Braden.”
“Again.”
“Braden.”
“Now, tell me what we’re going to do here tonight.”
“You’re going to fuck me, Braden.”
“Yes, I’m going to fuck you.”
My body turns to gelatin. I’m standing in front of Braden Black, my sandals and jeans still on, my breasts exposed, my nipples hard and ready.
“You say you like your nipples pinched.”
“Yes,” I say on a soft sigh.
“What else do you like?”
“Whatever you want to do to me.” The words fall off my tongue with no thought or effort.
I can’t deny the truth of them.
I’m here.
He’s here.
And he can do whatever he wants to me.
“Take off the rest of your clothes, Skye.”
“Are you going to take yours off?”
“Does it matter?”
I open my mouth to respond, but he stops me with a gesture.
“Undress.”
I swallow, my heart thundering, and I kick off my sandals and then unsnap and unzip my jeans. I slowly lower them over my hips and peel them off my legs until I’m standing only in my panties.
“Keep going,” he says.
I wiggle out of the panties and kick them a few feet away, next to Braden’s tie. I haven’t shaved my vulva in a few days. Will he be turned off by the ugly brown stubble?
“Very nice,” he says, licking his lips.
Apparently not turned off. Good.
“I can smell you,” he says. “You’re ripe. Wet. Aren’t you?”
I bite my lower lip. “Mm-hmm.”
“What did I tell you?” he says sternly. “About using the word?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m wet.”
“Who are you wet for, Skye?”
I clear my throat. “For you. I’m wet for you, Braden.”
He grabs me then and crushes our mouths together. My tongue wanders out to meet his in another raw kiss. Raw and beautiful. His full lips slide against mine as he plunders my mouth, and I want him to do the same to my body.