[ Truyện Tiếng Anh] Naked

Author : Raine Miller

2012 May
London
I don’t know **** about American politics. I don’t need to know. I’m a British citizen and Parliament is confusing enough. Politics don’t interest me much. But I am forced to work around the byproducts of political affairs all the time. I deal in security, both private and for the British government. I’m good at my job. I take it very seriously. In my business you have to be good because when you’re not good…people die.
United States congressman goes down in a plane crash. Newsworthy of course. But when said congressman was the probable vice presidential nominee for the challenging party and the election is mere months away then it makes world news in a viral heartbeat. Especially when people who want the power will do just about anything to ensure the incumbent never stands a second term. Scrambling for a replacement, the GOP understandably needed to fill the empty slot on their ticket. And this is how I came to discover her.
I received the email from her father first. A voice from my past extending a friendly greeting and an acknowledgement of where we’d both ended up. Fair enough. My past had been a colorful one, including both the good and the bad, and he’de into my life during one of the good parts.
A phone call came next where he told me he had a daughter living in London. He was concerned about her safety and gave some tentative details about why. I was polite and quite sure I didn’t need to involve myself. My job had me overextended as it was. Organizing VIP security for London 2012 at the XXX Olympiad pretty much consumed all my time...

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Prologue

2012 May

London

I don’t know **** about American politics. I don’t need to know. I’m a British citizen and Parliament is confusing enough. Politics don’t interest me much. But I am forced to work around the byproducts of political affairs all the time. I deal in security, both private and for the British government. I’m good at my job. I take it very seriously. In my business you have to be good because when you’re not good…people die.

United States congressman goes down in a plane crash. Newsworthy of course. But when said congressman was the probable vice presidential nominee for the challenging party and the election is mere months away then it makes world news in a viral heartbeat. Especially when people who want the power will do just about anything to ensure the incumbent never stands a second term. Scrambling for a replacement, the GOP understandably needed to fill the empty slot on their ticket. And this is how I came to discover her.

I received the email from her father first. A voice from my past extending a friendly greeting and an acknowledgement of where we’d both ended up. Fair enough. My past had been a colorful one, including both the good and the bad, and he’d come into my life during one of the good parts.

A phone call came next where he told me he had a daughter living in London. He was concerned about her safety and gave some tentative details about why. I was polite and quite sure I didn’t need to involve myself. My job had me overextended as it was. Organizing VIP security for London 2012 at the XXX Olympiad pretty much consumed all my time and I had nothing to spare for the daughter of an acquaintance I’d met at a poker tournament more than six years gone.

I told him no. I was even prepared to give him a referral to another private security firm as a personal favor when he played his hand. Poker players know when to play their hands.

He sent me her picture in second email.

That picture changed everything. I was not the same after I saw it and I couldn’t go back to the man I’d been before seeing it either. Not after we met that night on the street. My whole world altered because of a photograph. A photograph of my beautiful American girl.

1

My mother can’t see this right now and that’s a really good thing. She would freak. I’d made it to Benny’s show tonight because I told him I’d be here and I know how important it is for him. It’s important for me too. I only want the best for my friend just like he does for me. In the past three years Benny has been right there to console me, drink with me, commiserate with me, and even to help me pay my rent upon occasion by giving me work. Well, that and the fact he shot the photograph on the canvas I’m staring at right now. And it’s a picture of my nude body.

Posing as a nude model isn’t something I dreamed of doing for my life’s work or anything, but it is a way to make some extra money in between student loans. And lately I’d been getting offers from other photographers. Benny said to be prepared for more interest too, because of this show tonight. People will inquire about the model. It’s a given, Brynne. That’s my Benny, always the optimist.

I sipped my champagne and studied the really huge image hanging on the gallery wall. Benny had talent. For a child of Somali refugees who started with less than nothing in the UK, he knew how to configure a picture. He’d posed me on my back with my head turned to the side, my arm over my br**sts and my hand flared between my legs. He’d wanted my hair splayed out and my pu**y covered. I’d worn a string thong for the shot but you couldn’t see it. Nothing showed that would classify my image as p**n . The proper term is artistic nude photography anyway. My stuff was shot tastefully or I didn’t do it. Well, I certainly hoped my pictures didn’t get onto any p**n sites, but who could know for sure these days. I didn’t do p**n . I hardly did ***.

“There’s my girl!” Benny’s big arms wrapped around my shoulders and he rested his chin on top of my head. “It’s smashing isn’t it? And you have the most beautiful feet of any woman on the planet.”

“Everything you do looks good, Ben, even my feet.” I turned around and faced him. “So, you sell anything yet? Let me rephrase. How many have you sold?”

“Three so far and I think this one’s going very soon.” Ben winked. “Don’t be obvious but see the tall bloke in the grey suit, black hair, speaking with Carole Andersen? He’s inquired. Seems he’s quite taken by your gorgeous naked self. Probably going to go for a good palm session soon as he can get the canvas all to himself. How’s that make you feel, Brynne luv? Some rich toff pulling his pud to the sight of your unearthly beauty.”

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes at him. “That’s just nasty. Don’t tell me things like that or I’ll have to stop taking jobs.” I tilted my head and shook it. “It’s a damn good thing I love you, Benny Clarkson.” Ben could say the crassest thing and manage to make it come out proper and refined. Must be his British accent. Hell, even Ozzy Osbourne sounded proper at times thanks to that accent.

“It’s true though,” Ben said, placing a kiss on my cheek, “and you know it. That chap hasn’t stopped eyeballing you since you glided in here. And he’s not g*y.”

I gaped at Benny. “Good to know, thank you, Ben, for the update. And I don’t glide!”

He grinned at me in that wicked, boyish way of his. “Believe me, if he was I would’ve offered to blow him in the back room by now. He’s off the charts hot.”

“You’re going to hell, you know that don’t you?” I looked over casually and checked out the buyer. Benny was right about him; the guy oozed hotness from the leather soles of his Ferragamos to the tips of his wavy dark hair. About six foot three, muscular, confident, rich. I couldn’t tell about his eyes because he was talking to the owner of the gallery. About my picture maybe? Hard to say, but didn’t matter anyway. Even if he did buy it, I’d never see him again.

“I’m right huh?” Ben saw me looking and nudged me in the ribs.

“About the jerking off? No possible way, Benny!” I shook my head slowly. “He’s way too beautiful to have to resort to his hand for an orgasm.”

And then that beautiful man turned and looked at me. His eyes burned across the room almost as if he’d heard what I’d just said to Benny. But that was impossible. Wasn’t it? He kept staring and I finally had to look down. There was no way I could compete with the level of intensity, or whatever the hell was coming at me from where he stood. The urge to flee kicked in immediately. Safety first.

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I gulped another swig from my champagne and drained it. “I need to go now. And the show is brilliant.” I hugged my friend. “And you will be famous the world over,” I told him, grinning. “In about fifty more years!”

Benny laughed behind me as I headed for the door. “Call me, my lovely!”

I waved a hand without turning and stepped out. The street was busy for London on a weeknight. The upcoming Olympic Games had turned the city into an absolute cluster of humanity though. It could be years before I got a cab. Should I risk the walk to the closest Underground station? I glanced down at my heels which looked great paired with my dress, but were seriously lacking in the walking comfort department. And if I took the Tube, I’d still have to hoof it another couple blocks to my flat in the dark. Mom would say no of course. But then again, Mom was not here in London. Mom was home in San Francisco where I didn’t want to be. Screw this. I started walking.

“It’s a very bad idea, Brynne. Don’t risk it. Let me give you a ride.”

I froze on the street. I knew who spoke to me without ever hearing his voice before. I turned slowly to face the same eyes that had burned me back at the gallery. “I don’t know you at all,” I told him.

He smiled, his lip turning up more on one side than the other of his goateed mouth. He pointed to his car at the curb, a sleek black Range Rover HSE. The kind that only Brits with money can ever afford. Not that he didn’t reek of money before, but he was way out of my league.

I swallowed hard in my throat. Those eyes of his were blue, very clear and deep. “Yet you call me by name and—and expect me to get in a car with you? Are you crazy?”

He walked toward me and extended his hand. “Ethan Blackstone.”

I stared at his hand, so finely elegant with the white cuff framing the grey sleeve of his designer jacket. “How do you even know my name?”

“I just bought a work entitled Brynne’s Repose from the Andersen Gallery for a nice sum not fifteen minutes ago. And I’m fairly sure I’m not mentally impaired. Sounds more PC than crazy don’t you think?” He kept his hand out.

I met his hand and he took mine. Oh did he ever. Or maybe I’d lost my mind shaking hands with the stranger who’d just purchased a huge canvas of my naked body. Ethan possessed a firm grip. And hot too. Had I imagined he pulled me a little closer toward him? Or maybe I was the crazy one, because my feet hadn’t moved an inch. Those blue eyes were nearer to me than they were a moment ago though, and I could smell his cologne. Something so gawd awfully delicious it was sinful to smell that good and be human.

“Brynne Bennett,” I said.

He let go of my hand. “And now we know each other,” he said, pointing first at me and then to himself, “Brynne, Ethan.” He motioned with his head toward his Rover. “Now will you let me take you home?”

I swallowed again. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I don’t want anything to happen to you? Because those heels look lovely at the end of your legs but will be hell to walk in? Because it’s dangerous for a woman alone at night in the city?” His eyes flicked over me. “Especially one as beautiful as you.” That mouth of his turned up just slightly on the one side again. “So many reasons, Miss Bennett.”

“What if you’re not safe?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I still don’t know you or anything about you, or if Ethan Blackstone is your real name.” Did he just give me a look?

“You have a point in that. And it’s one I can rectify easily.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a drivers license with the name, Ethan James Blackstone clearly printed. He handed me a business card with the same name and Blackstone Security International, Ltd. engraved on the cream cardstock. “You may keep that.” He grinned again. “I’m very busy at my job, Miss Bennett. I have absolutely no time for a hobby as a serial killer, I promise you.”

I laughed. “Good one, Mr. Blackstone.” I put his card in my purse. “All right. You can give me a ride.” His brow shot up again, and I got the sideways grin again too.

I winced inwardly at the double entendre for ‘ride’ and tried to focus on how uncomfortable my shoes really would be for walking to the Tube station and that it was a good idea to let him drive me.

He pressed his hand to the bottom of my back and led me to the curb. “In you go.” Ethan got me settled and then walked around to the street side and slid behind the wheel, smooth as a panther. He looked at me and tilted his head. “And where does Miss Bennett live?”

“Nelson Square in Southwark.”

He frowned but then turned his face away and pulled out into traffic. “You are American.”

What, he didn’t like Americans? “I am here on scholarship at the University of London. Graduate program,” I tacked on, wondering why I felt the need to tell him anything at all about myself.

“And the modeling?”

The second he asked the question the ***ual tension thickened. I paused before answering. I knew exactly what he was doing—imagining me in my picture. Naked. And as weird as it felt, I opened my mouth and told him. “Um, I—I posed for my friend, the photographer, Benny Clarkson. He asked and it helps pay the bills, you know?”

“Not really, but I love the portrait of you, Miss Bennett.” He kept his eyes on the road.

I felt myself stiffen at his comment. Who in the hell was he to judge what I do *****pport myself?

“Well, my own personal international corporation never came through like yours did, Mr. Blackstone. I resorted to modeling. I like sleeping in a bed as opposed to a park bench. And heat. The winters here suck!” Even I could hear the snark in my voice.

“In my experience I’ve found many things here that suck.” He turned and gave me an expert blue-eyed stare.

How he’d said ‘suck’ got my blood tingling in a way that left no doubts about my skills in fantasy being sound. I might not get a ton of practical experience between the sheets, but my fantasies don’t suffer one iota from lack of use.

“Well we agree on something then.” I brought my fingers to my forehead and rubbed. The image of Ethan’s c**k and the word ‘suck’ in the same little space in my brain was a little much at the moment.

“Headache?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

We slowed for a stoplight and he looked over at me, his eyes traveling from my lap back up to my face in a slow, measured pace. “Merely a guess. No dinner, just the champagne you gulped back at the gallery, and now it’s late and your body is putting up a protest.” He lifted his eyebrow yet again. “How’d I do?”

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I swallowed hard, desperately wishing for water. Bingo, Mr. Blackstone. You read me like a cheap comic book. Whoever you are, you’re good.

“I just need two aspirin and some water and I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head at me. “When did you last eat some food, Brynne?”

“So we’re back to first names again?”

He gave me a tolerant look but I could tell he was pissed.

“I had a late breakfast, okay? I’ll make something when I get home.” I looked out the window. The light must have changed because we started moving again. The only sounds were of his body shifting as he turned the corner. And it was way too ***y of a sound to keep my eyes averted for long. I chanced a peek. In profile, Ethan had a rather prominent nose but on him it didn’t matter, he was still beautiful.

Ignoring me now, acting as if I wasn’t sitting two feet from him, he efficiently drove us. Ethan seemed to know his way around London because he didn’t ask me for directions once. I could still smell him though, and the scent did things to my head. I really needed to get out of this car.

He made a rude noise and pulled into a strip mall. “Stay here; I’ll be just a minute.” His voice sounded a little edgy. A lot more than a little, actually. Everything was edgy with him. And commanding. Like he told you what to do and you didn’t dare argue.

The warmth of the car and the coziness of the leather seat felt nice underneath the thin skirt I’d worn tonight. Ethan was right about one thing, I would have died on my walk to the Tube. Here I sat in the car of a virtual stranger, who’d seen me naked, bullied me into taking a ride, and now coming out of the convenience store with a bag in his hand and a grim look on his face. This whole situation was weirder than weird.

“What did you need to get in the store—”

He shoved a bottle of water into my hand and opened a single packet of Advil. I took both without a word. He watched me gulp down the pills. The water was gone in under a minute. He set a protein bar on my knee.

“Now eat it.” His voice had that don’t-****-with-me tone again. “Please,” he added.

I sighed and opened the white chocolate Power Bar. The crinkle of the wrapper filled the silence in the car. I took a bite and chewed slowly. It tasted divine. I had needed what he’d brought me. Desperately.

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling suddenly emotional, the urge to cry bubbling up fiercely. I held it down as best I could. I kept my head down too.

“My pleasure,” he said softly, “everyone needs the basics, Brynne. Food, water…a bed.”

A bed. The ***ual tension was back, or maybe it never left. Ethan seemed blessed with the talent to make the most innocent word sound like hot, sweaty, mind-blowing *** you remembered for a long, long time. He sat beside me and didn’t back the car out until I’d finished the last of the protein bar.

“What’s your actual street address?” he asked.

“41 Franklin Crossing.”

Ethan took us out of the strip mall lot and headed back onto the street, bringing me closer to my flat with every revolution of the tires. I leaned into the soft leather and closed my eyes. My phone vibrated in my purse. I fished it out and saw there’d been a text from Benny.

Ben Clarkson: u home ok?



I shot back a quick ‘yup’ and closed my eyes again. I could feel my headache begin to slip away. I felt more relaxed than I’d been in hours. Exhaustion wore out I suppose, because I would have never allowed myself the indulgence of falling asleep in Ethan Blackstone’s car if I could possibly help it.

2

Someone smelled very good as they touched me. I could smell the spice and feel the weight of a hand on my shoulder. But the fear rose up anyway. The blast of terror that brought me screaming into consciousness arrived right on schedule. I knew what it was but still the panic ruled me. I should know. The feeling had been with me for years now.

“Brynne, wake up.”

That voice. Who was it? I opened my eyes and faced into the blue intensity of Ethan Blackstone not more than six inches away. I pushed back into the seat to make more distance between me and that gorgeous face. I remembered now. He bought my picture tonight. And took me home.

“****! I’m sorry I—I fell asleep?” I fiddled for the door handle but I didn’t know this car. I scrambled blindly to get out—to get away.

Ethan’s hand shot over and covered mine, stilling it with a firm touch. “Easy. You’re safe, everything’s fine. You just drifted off is all.”

“Okay…sorry.” I panted some deep breaths, looked out the window, and then back to him still watching my every move.

“Why do you keep apologizing?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. I did know, but couldn’t think about it at the moment.

“Are you okay?” He smiled slowly with a tilt of his head. I swear he liked the fact that he rattled me. I wasn’t so sure if I didn’t. I so needed to get away from this situation right now, before I agreed to all manner of things. Something along the lines of: Take off your clothes and stretch out in the big back seat of my Range Rover, Brynne. This man had a way with control that severely unnerved me.

“Thank you for the ride. And the water. And the other stu—”

“You take care of yourself, Brynne Bennett.” He pressed a button and the lock clicked. “You have your key ready? I’ll wait until you’re inside. What floor is it?”

I dug my key out of my purse and replaced it with my phone which was still on my lap. “I live in the top studio loft, fifth floor.”

“Roommate?”

“Well, yes, but she’s probably not in.” Again, wondering what loosed my tongue in sharing personal information with a virtual stranger.

“I’ll look for the light to come on then.” Ethan’s face was unreadable. I had no idea what he was thinking.

I pushed the door open and got out. “Goodnight, Ethan Blackstone.” I left his car at the curb and headed up the steps of my building, feeling the stare of his eyes as I walked. Sticking the key in the door, I looked back over my shoulder at the Rover. The windows were so dark I couldn’t see inside, but he was in there waiting for me to get in my building so he could leave.

I opened the foyer door to five flights of stairs ahead of me. I slipped off the heels and did it barefoot. The second I entered my apartment I hit the lights and locked up. I literally collapsed against the wooden door for support. My heels dumped on the floor in a clatter and I exhaled a huge sigh. What the hell just happened?

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It took a minute to heave myself away from the damn door and head over to the window. I pulled back the drape with a finger to find his car gone. Ethan Blackstone was gone.

A five mile run was just the ticket to help clear my head of the fog from last night’s— Alice in Wonderland down a friggin’ rabbit hole—trip. I seriously felt like I’d done the whole ‘Eat Me’ and ‘Drink Me’ thing too. Jesus, had the champagne been drugged? I’d acted like it. Allowing an unknown man to drive me in his car, drop me at my home and take over control of my food? Well it was stupid and I told myself to forget about it and him. Life was complicated enough without borrowing trouble.

That’s what Aunt Marie always said. Picturing her reaction to my modeling made me smile. I knew for a fact that my great aunt was less concerned about the nude pictures than my own mother. Aunt Marie was no prude. I set my iPod to shuffle and took off.

Pretty soon the awkward encounter from last night had been pounded onto the London pavement of Waterloo Bridge. It felt good to push myself physically and just run. Must be all the endorphins. Cursing inwardly for another *** reference, I wondered if that was my problem, and the reason I allowed Ethan so much leeway last night. Maybe I needed an orgasm. You’re so screwed. Yeah, and I could just imagine the literal and figurative versions of that statement.

I forged ahead and crossed over onto the Thames path that followed the great river. My iPod helped too. Music had a way of resetting the brain. With Eminem and Rihanna battling out love and lies, or lying for the sake of love in my ears, I kept a steady pace and admired the architecture I passed on my route. The history in such an ancient city as London was vast, and yet contrasted with the bustling, modern world player in a perfect balance. Duality. I loved living here.

Modeling wasn’t my only job. All students enrolled in the graduate program for Art Conservancy at the University of London were required to do practicum duties at the Rothvale Gallery in Winchester House. The Duke of Winchester’s seventeenth century mansion had housed U of L’s Department of Art for about fifty years and a more beautiful location to study certainly did not exist anywhere else in my opinion.

Heading in through the employee entrance, I flashed my badge for security then again for the conservation studios.

“Miss Brynne, good day to you.” Rory. So proper and formal. The back room guard greeted me the exact same way every time I came in. I kept hoping that one time he would say something different. Shag any millionaire control freaks last night, Miss Brynne?

“Hey, Rory.” I gave him my best smile as he let me through.

I stayed focused and sharp during my work. The painting was a stunner, one of Mallerton’s early works, entitled simply, Lady Percival. An absolutely compelling woman with nearly black hair, a blue dress to match her eyes, a book in her hand, and the most magnificent figure a female could ever hope to have, took up most of the canvas. She wasn’t so much a beauty as expressive. I very much wished I knew her story. The painting had suffered some heat damage during a fire in the sixties and never been touched since. Lady Percival needed some tender loving care and I would be the lucky one to give it to her.

I was just about to go for a break when my phone went off. Unknown caller? It struck me odd. I didn’t give my number out and the Lorenzo Agency who represented my modeling had strict disclosure rules.

“Hello?”

“Brynne Bennett.” The ***y cadence of a British voice washed over me.

It was him. Ethan Blackstone. How, I have no earthly idea. Or why for that matter, but it was him, ***y accent live and well on the other end of my phone. I would know that commanding voice anywhere.

“How did you get this number?”

“You gave it to me last night.” His voice burned into my ear and I knew he was lying.

“No,” I said slowly, trying to put the brakes on my escalating heart beat, “I did not give you my number last night.” Why was he calling?

“I may have borrowed your phone by accident while you were dozing…and called my cell with it. You distracted me by being dehydrated and starved.” I heard muffled voices in the background like he could be in an office. “It’s very easy to pick up the wrong phone when they all look alike.”

“So you went into my phone and dialed yours so you could get my number off the history of calls received. That’s kinda creepy, Mr. Blackstone.” I was starting to get rather pissed at Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome with the Gorgeous, Blue Eyes for his utter lack of personal boundaries.

“Please call me Ethan, Brynne. I want you to call me Ethan.”

“And I want you to respect my privacy, Ethan.”

“Do you, Brynne? I think you are really grateful for the ride home last night,” he spoke in a softer voice, “and you seemed to like your dinner too.” He paused for a moment. “You thanked me.” More silence. “In your con***ion you would’ve never made it home safely.”

Seriously? His words returned me straight back to the overwhelming emotion I’d felt last night when he’d brought me the water and the Advil. And as much as I hated to admit it, he was right.

“Okay…look, Ethan, I owe you for the ride last night. It was a good call on your part and I do thank you for the help, but—”

“Then have dinner with me. A proper dinner, preferably not something enclosed in plastic or foil, and definitely not in my car.”

“Oh, no. Sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good ide—”

“You just said, ‘Ethan, I owe you for the ride,’ and that’s what I want—for you to have dinner with me. Tonight.”

My heart pounded harder. I can’t do this. He affected me so strangely. I knew myself well enough to realize that Ethan Blackstone was dangerous territory for a girl like me—Great White shark is hungry for lone swimmer in cove—territory.

“I have plans tonight,” I blurted into my phone. A total lie.

“Then tomorrow night.”

“I—I can’t then. I’ll be working late afternoon and photo shoots always exhaust me—”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up from your shoot, feed you, and take you home for an early night.”

“You keep interrupting me every time I speak! I can’t think straight when you start barking orders, Ethan. Are you like this with everyone or am I just special?” I did not like how the conversation turned so fast in his favor. It was maddening. And whatever he meant in the way of an early night left me imagining all kinds of forbidden.

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“Yes…and yes, Brynne, you are.” I could feel the *** dripping off his voice through my phone, and it scared the **** out of me. And I am a stupid idiot for wording the question like that. Way to go, Brynne, Ethan says you’re special.

“I have to get back to work now.” My voice sounded thready. I knew it did. He just disarmed me so damn easily. I tried again. “Thanks for the offer, Ethan, but I can’t—”

“Say no to me,” he interrupted, “and that’s why I’ll pick you up from the shoot tomorrow for dinner. You admitted that you owe me a favor, and I am calling it in. It’s what I want, Brynne.”

****er did it again! I sighed into the phone loudly and let that sit in silence for a moment. I was not going to give in to him so easily.

“Still there, Brynne?”

“So you want me to talk now? You sure change your mind quickly. Every time I speak you interrupt me. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners, Ethan?”

“She couldn’t. My mother died when I was four.”

****. “Ahhh, well that explains it then. I’m very sorry—look, Ethan; I really have to get back to my work. You take care.” I took the chicken way out and ended the call.

I set my cheek on the worktable and just rested for a minute, or five. Ethan wore me out. I don’t know how he managed it, but he did. Eventually I got up from my chair and headed for the break room. I got the biggest mug I could find, filled it with a ****load of half-and-half and sugar, and a moderate amount of coffee. Maybe a caffeine/carb buzz would help me, or put me into a coma.

Looking over at my workspace I saw the captivating Lady Percival prepped and waiting so elegant and calm as she had been doing for more than a century. Coffee in hand, I returned to her and attended to cleaning the grime from the book she so lovingly held to her breast.

3

Benny’s beautiful brown skin looked divine against the pale yellow shirt draped onto his muscled frame. Confidence poured out of Benny in every aspect of his life. Totally optimistic. I wish I could be more like him. I was giving it my best shot but let’s just say my best shot at it sucked.

“So this Ethan bloke is trying to get all up in you, huh? I saw how he watched you, Brynne. He never stopped looking,” Ben muttered, “not that I blame him.”

Benny’s always been sweet like this. My go-to guy when I need a shoulder. He’s nosy though. I’d tried all night to keep the conversation about his photography and gallery show, but he kept steering the talk back to Ethan.

“Yeah, well he has a way of getting the upper hand and I don’t like it, Ben.” I dipped my French fry—that I refuse to call a chip—into some ranch dressing and popped it in my mouth. “And thanks for making an honest woman of me tonight.” I ate another fry. “I told Ethan I had plans, which was a total lie until you called.”

Ben pointed a fry at me and smirked. “So that’s why you nearly jumped me through my cell.”

I took a swig of my Sheppy’s cider, no longer hungry for the burger and fries. “Thanks for the invite, my friend.” Even to my ears I sounded like a bore.

“Well why don’t you go out with him? He’s hot. He wants you badly. He can certainly afford to show you a good time.” Benny picked up my hand and pressed his soft lips to my skin. “You need to have a little fun, luv, or some ***. Everybody needs to get some once in a while. How long’s it been?”

I snatched my hand from him and took another swig of Sheppy’s. “I am not talking about the last time I got laid, Ben. Boundaries much?”

He gave me a patient look. “You definitely need an orgasm, darling.”

I ignored his comment. “He’s just so—well I—he’s—the man is so f**king intense. His words, the stuff he does, the raised brow, those blue eyes—” I pointed my finger at my head like a gun and pulled the trigger. “I can’t think when he starts in with the commands.” I noticed Ben had pushed his plate away too. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Let’s get your ***ually-frustrated vagina home. Maybe you can have a date with your vibrator and that will help.”

I kicked Benny in the foot under the table.

During the cab ride to my flat I thought about last night in Ethan’s car. I obviously felt comfortable enough to fall asleep. That had been a total shocker. I never did stuff like that. Ever. With my history, letting my guard down with strangers was not on the menu, especially the sleeping thing. So why had I done so with Ethan? Was it his gorgeous looks? I’d only really seen his face but I could tell he was built underneath the silk suit. The man had the whole package working for him. Why me when he could have anyone he wanted?

“So you’re booked for a studio shoot tomorrow at Lorenzo?”

“Yeah.” I hugged Ben. “Thanks for the referral, honey, and the dinner. You are the best.” I kissed him on the cheek. “Vaya con dios, you ***y man.”

“Love it when you speak Spanish to me, baby!” Benny motioned with his hands toward his chest. “Keep it coming! I want to impress Ricardo next time he’s in town.”

I left Ben in the cab with a smile on his face, blowing a kiss. I headed up to my little flat that I love and adore, was in my shower in under five minutes, and in my pajamas another ten after that. I’d just put my toothbrush in the holder when my phone went off. I looked at the display. Crap. Ethan.

I hit accept and gathered the courage to speak. “Ethan…”

“I like when you say my name, so I suppose I’ll forgive you for hanging up on me today.” His slow, elegant Brit voice settled over me, heightening my awareness of his maleness and the promise of *** instantly.

“Sorry about that.” I waited for him to say something else but he didn’t. I still hadn’t agreed to go out with him though and we both knew it.

Finally he asked, “So how were your plans tonight?” I could just picture that mouth of his in a firm line of annoyance.

“They were fine—good. I just got in actually…from dinner.”

“And what did you order at your dinner, Brynne?”

“Why must you know, Ethan?”

“So I can learn what pleases you.” And just like that he did it again! Taking my defensiveness away with a few small words and dripping of ***ual innuendo as always. And making me feel like a cold bitch.

“I had a garden burger, fries, and a Sheppy’s cider.” I felt myself relax a little and softened my tone.

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“Vegetarian?”

“Not at all. I love meat—I mean—I eat…meat…all the time.” Dear lord. The brief feeling of relaxation vanished instantly and I was back to tripping over my words like a teenager.

Ethan laughed into the phone. “So a good selection of meats and Sheppy’s on the menu will do it for you?”

“Hey, I never said I would go out with you.” I closed my eyes.

“But you will.” His voice did something to me. Even through the phone, without sense of sight, he compelled me to want to agree just to see him again. To look at him again. To smell him again.

I groaned into the phone. “You are killing me here, Ethan.”

“No,” he chuckled softly, “we’ve already established that I’m not a serial killer, remember?”

“So you claim, Mr. Blackstone, but know that if you do kill me, you’ll be number one on the suspect list.”

He laughed at that and the sound of him made me smile. “So you’ve been talking about me to your friends then?”

“Maybe I keep a secret diary and wrote about you. The cops will find it when they search my flat for clues.”

“Miss Bennett has quite the flair for the dramatic. Did she take acting lessons in school?”

“No. She just watched a lot of episodes of CSI.”

“Okay, I am getting the whole picture now. Meat, Sheppy’s and Crime Investigation Network. A nice eclectic mix you’ve got going for you…among other things,” he said the last part very softly, the suggestion in the words hitting me directly between my legs. “So where do I collect you tomorrow after your photo shoot?”

“It’s a studio shoot, so the Lorenzo Agency, tenth floor of the Shires Building.”

“I’ll find you, Brynne. Send me a text when you’re finished and I’ll be there. Goodnight.” His voice changed, sounding more abrupt.

I heard a click and then the dial tone, realizing that Ethan had ended the call this time. Payback for earlier? Maybe. But as I got into my bed and rehashed our conversation in the dark, I became conscious of the fact he’d gotten his way again. I had a date with Ethan tomorrow night, and I’d never really agreed to go.

I sent the text to Ethan as Marco looked through the images. I’d worked with Marco one other time and I liked him a lot. Based in Milan, he liked classic poses reminiscent of the thirties and forties.

“You are magnificent in these, bella,” Marco told me with that beautiful Italian purr, “the camera is your friend.”

“It was nice. Thank you, Marco.”

I still had to get ready and headed for the dressing room. I tried not to fuss over my appearance but Ethan was so damned handsome. I was just…me. I knew I had a decent figure. I kept it that way, and my body was my livelihood at the moment so I took care of myself. And I’d had plenty of attention from boys growing up. Too much attention. But I wasn’t beautiful. I had long, straight, light brown hair, nothing special. My eyes were probably the most unique thing about me. The color was odd—sort of a mixture of brown, grey, blue and green. I’d never known what to put on my driver’s license back home. I went with…brown.

I opened my bag and slipped off my robe. Being it was nearly summer, and I assumed tonight would be casual at the end of a work day, I’d chosen clothes that would be forgiving of the time spent in a sports duffle—flax linen drawstring pants, a black, silky sleeveless top, and black leather flats. I slung my favorite green cardigan over my shoulders and gave some attention to the rest of me. I brushed my hair out and went with a pony tail wrapped with a strand of hair around the elastic. Next, makeup, and it wouldn’t take long. I rarely use much more than mascara and blush. Some lip gloss and a spray of my perfume finished me. Good to go, Brynne.

I pushed the call button at the elevators and waited. Ethan didn’t say where to meet exactly and I figured the lobby would be fine. He seemed to know the city like the back of his hand.

Marco walked up and gave me a hug in farewell. He was a demonstrative guy, always hugging and kissing twice on the cheek in that Euro way that made it acceptable for him—and made the American me a sucker for it. I can admit to being fully charmed by the kind of courtly behavior rarely displayed in my native land.

I hugged him back and offered my cheek. Marco pressed his lips to my jaw right as the elevator doors opened and Ethan stepped out glaring, his beautiful face set in a hard line.

I stumbled back from Marco’s embrace and felt Ethan’s hands catch me, latching onto my waist. “Brynne, darling, here you are.” Ethan drew his arms up from my waist to wrap loosely around my shoulders, effectively pulling me away from Marco and right up against the front of his body. His very hard and muscled body. I could feel Ethan’s stare on Marco and knew I needed to do something before the situation got more awkward than it already was. “Introduce us, Brynne,” he said against my ear, the brush of his goatee pricking my jaw and making my knees weak.

“Ethan Blackstone, Marco Carvaletti, my—my photographer today.” ****! Did I really sound that fluttery and weak? I swear I was in deep trouble with this man. He got to me in a way I found so unnerving yet arousing at the same time; a tantalizing mixture screaming Danger! in my head.

Ethan held out his hand and offered a greeting to the tall Italian with the bemused expression at our situation. “How did my girl do today, Mr. Carvaletti?” Ethan drawled in his elegant voice.

Marco gave just the hint of a smile. “Brynne does her job to perfection, Mr. Blackstone. Always.” The elevator dinged again and Marco stuck his arm out to hold it. “Are you going down?” Marco asked, stepping inside.

“Eventually. Not just yet,” Ethan answered, settling a hand on both of my upper arms and holding me firm. We faced the elevator doors about to close. Eventually? I did not miss the suggestion in that comment. The image of his beautiful black hair moving slowly on his bobbing head between my legs was more than my libido could bear at the moment.

“Bye, Marco, thank you for the booking!” I managed to sputter, lifting a hand in a wave.

“Thank you, bella, the pictures are gorgeous as usual.” Marco kissed two fingers and blew them at me as the elevator doors closed on him, leaving me securely in Ethan’s grip and totally alone with the man who had an erection pressed against my ass and the promise of knowing exactly how to use it.

“What are you doing!” I spat, spinning out of his hands. “What’s with the my girl and the territorial behavior, Ethan?” I turned to his beautiful face very aware that I was breathing heavy and with every inhale drawing more of his delicious scent inside me.

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He came at me, backing me up against the wall in the corridor. His big body looming as he very deliberately lowered his mouth onto mine. Ethan’s lips were soft in contrast to his goatee, and his tongue, like velvet, met mine in an instant; stroking over every part of my mouth, tangling with my tongue, sucking my bottom lip, getting inside me deep. Pressing his big frame harder against me, I felt the solid length of his c**k hit me in the belly. Ethan Blackstone took control of my body and I let him.

I moaned into his kisses and buried my hands in his hair. I brought him closer, my ni**les tightening to brush against the chest muscles that felt so hard and male he had to be fiction. Except he wasn’t fiction, he was kissing me passionately in a public hallway on the tenth floor of the Shires Building in front of the Lorenzo Agency. He’d come here to find me.

He held my face on both sides so I couldn’t move away from the onslaught of his tongue. I was open to him and whatever he wanted me for. My reaction to Ethan was a weakness. I’d known it all along even if only imaginary at first understanding. The real thing was devastating.

He moved a hand off my face and brought it down to rest on my neck. His kiss slowed to soft nibbles until he pulled his lips away and I felt the cool air upon the wetness he’d left there.

“Open your eyes,” he told me. I lifted them to see Ethan’s face a mere inch away, his blue eyes burning hot with lust.

“I’m not your girl, Ethan.”

“You were during that kiss, Brynne.” Eyes flickering, he read me, and then he inhaled. I was a damp mess between my legs and I wondered if he could smell me. “You smell so good …and f**king ***y.”

Sweet Jesus! His thumb rubbed over my collarbone where his hand still rested on my neck. And I did absolutely nothing to stop him. I was enjoying the view too much. I’d tousled his hair from the mauling with my hands. He still looked gorgeous and probably did even when he crawled out of bed in the mornings. Bed. Was there a bed in our immediate future? It would take next to nothing on my part to get this man into bed. I didn’t have to be a genius to know he wanted ***. The real question here was did I want it?

“Ethan.” I pushed against the wall of steel that was his body and got nowhere. “Why me? Why are you acting this way?”

“Don’t know. I can’t stay away and I’m not acting. I tried to leave you alone but I can’t do it.” He feathered his other hand over my hair and down until it was resting on the other side of my neck. “I don’t want to stay away from you.” He rubbed slow erotic circles with his thumbs meeting at the middle of my throat. “You want me too, Brynne, I know you do.”

He brought his lips against mine again and kissed softly. I could hardly stand up on my own as he conquered my body. The point was moot, I didn’t need to stand. He had me braced against the wall at my back and his hips glued to my front. The elevator binged and he stepped back. I stumbled forward into his chest. He steadied me as a couple emerged and headed down the hall.

“We can’t—we’re in public. I don’t do this sort of thing—I can’t be here with you like th—”

He moved quickly. Covering my lips with a few fingers to silence me and lifting my hand up to his mouth for a kiss. “I know,” he said gently. “It’s all right. Don’t panic.”

I could only stare spellbound as he pressed his soft lips against the back of my hand. The whiskers that framed his mouth brushed less softly but now felt nothing even close to the rough they had before.

Ethan looked at me with a measure of longing before taking the hand he’d just kissed and clasping it into one of his. He grabbed up my duffle off the floor with his free hand and drew me into the open elevator. “Dinner first and then we can talk about things.”

And in a way that was becoming very familiar whenever in Ethan’s presence, I accepted he’d completely taken charge again. He’d established control over everything, and had me right where he wanted.

4

Vauxmoor’s Bar and Grill was trendy but not boisterous to the point where we had to shout to talk. I mostly just enjoyed my view anyway. Seated over his plate of steak, Ethan was a picture of polite and genuine interest. Gone was the heat and promise of sweaty *** we’d shared at the elevators. He’d turned it off just as quickly as he’d turned me on.

“How did an American find herself at university so far from home?”

I picked at my steak salad and went for a sip of cider instead. “I—I struggled for a bit after high school. I—” I closed my eyes for a moment. “I was a mess actually, for a lot of reasons.” Taking a breath to calm the nervousness that appeared whenever I had to answer this question, I said, “But with some help to focus my attentions, I discovered an interest in art. I applied to come here and by some miracle got accepted at U of L. And my parents were so thrilled to see me motivated they sent me off with hearty blessings. I have a great aunt—at Waltham Forest. My aunt Marie, but other than her, I am on my own here.”

“But you are taking a graduate degree now?” Ethan seemed genuinely interested in what I was doing here, so I kept talking.

“Well, when I finished my undergrad in Art History I decided to apply for advanced study in conservancy. They accepted me a second time.” I stabbed a piece of steak with my fork.

“Any regrets? You seemed a little melancholy there when you were talking.” Ethan’s voice was soft when he wanted it to be.

I looked at his mouth and thought about what it’d felt like crushed against mine, forcing me to accept his kiss.

“About coming to London?” I shook my head at him. “Never. I love living here. In fact, I’ll be devastated if I don’t get a work visa when I finish my master’s degree. I consider London my home now.”

He smiled at me.

You’re too damn beautiful for your own good, Ethan Blackstone.

“You do fit in here…very well. So well in fact, I wouldn’t have known you weren’t native until you spoke, but even then, American twang and all, you blend right in.”

“A twang, huh?”

“It’s a very nice twang, Miss Bennett.” He grinned across the table, his blues twinkling.

“So, what about you? How did Ethan Blackstone end up as CEO of Blackstone Security International, Ltd.?”

He took a drink of his beer and licked the corner of his mouth, still dressed in a fine dark grey suit for work that definitely cost more than my rent.

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“What’s your story, Ethan? And you have a drawl by the way, as opposed to a twang.” I smirked at him.

One ***y eyebrow perked up. “I am the younger of two children. It was just my dad growing up for my sister and me. He drove a London cab and took me with him when I didn’t have school.”

“That’s why you didn’t need directions to find my flat,” I said. “And I’ve heard about the test the London cabbies have to take on all the streets. It’s gargantuan.”

He smiled at me again. “That would be The Knowledge. Very good, Miss Bennett. For an American you are quite up on your cultural facts of Britain.”

I shrugged. “I saw a show about it. Was pretty funny actually.” Realizing I’d distracted him from the conversation, I said, “Sorry for interrupting. So what did you do after you finished school?”

“I went into military training. Did that for six years. Left. Started my company with the help of contacts I’d made while enlisted.” He looked at me longingly again, seeming to have no inclination to keep talking.

“What branch of the military?”

“Special Forces, mostly reconnaissance.” He didn’t offer any more details but he grinned at me.

“You are not very forthcoming, Mr. Blackstone.”

“If I tell you any more, I’d have to kill you, and that would just blow my promise all to ****.”

“What promise?” I asked innocently.

“That I’m not a serial killer,” he said as he popped a piece of steak into his beautiful mouth and started chewing.

“Thank the gods! The idea of eating a plate of beef with a serial killer would have totally killed this date for me.”

He swallowed his meat and then smiled at me. “Very funny, Miss Bennett. You are a wit.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Blackstone, I try very hard to be.” He disarmed me with his charm so effortlessly I really had to work to keep him on task. Ethan could turn a conversation to his advantage in an instant. “What do you do at your company?”

“Security mostly, for the British government and some private international patrons. Right now we are swamped with the Olympics. With so many people coming from all over into London—especially in our post nine eleven world—it’s a challenge.”

“I bet.”

He pointed at my salad with his knife. “I bring you to the best place in town for a Mayfair steak, and what do you do?” He shook his head at me. “You order a salad.”

I laughed. “It has some steak in it. Anyway, I can’t help it. I don’t like to be predictable.”

“Well you’re very good at being unpredictable, Miss Bennett.” He winked at me and took another bite of his steak.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Ethan?”

“I get the feeling you’re about to,” he said dryly.

I sincerely wanted to know. The idea had been forming in my head for a couple days now. “So, do you—do you collect nudes…or something?” I looked down at my plate.

“No,” he answered immediately, “I was working security for the Andersen gallery that night. There were a few high profile guests and I merely went to make an appearance. I have employees who do the actual on-site work.” He paused. “But I’m very glad I attended because I saw your portrait.” His voice sounded amused. “I wanted it, so I bought it.”

I could feel his eyes calling to me to look at him. I lifted my eyes up.

“And then you walked in, Brynne.”

“Oh…”

“I heard what you and Clarkson said by the way—about me and my hand.” He tapped his ear. “High tech security gadgets in my line of work.”

My fork dropped with a clang and I must have jumped a foot. He grinned and looked smug, and far too ***y to be here with me. I was so mortified I wanted to run out the door. “I am so sorry you heard—”

“Don’t be, Brynne. I try to avoid my hand to get off, especially if there are other, more lovely, options.”

I felt his fingers tug on my chin. I allowed him access and felt my body heat up. Whoa…breathe, Brynne, breathe.

“Like you.” He whispered the rest. “I want the real thing. I want you underneath me. I want to get off with you.” His blue eyes never left mine. He did not let go of my chin either. He held me firm and made me acknowledge his words.

“Why, Ethan?”

His thumb flicked out and brushed my jaw. “Why does anyone want anything? It’s just how I react to you.” His eyes rolled over me and got that smoky look in them. “Come home with me. Be with me tonight, Brynne.”

“Okay.” My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it. And just like that I agreed to something that I knew would be life changing. For me, it would be.

The instant the word left my lips I witnessed Ethan close his eyes for just the briefest flicker. And then it was all a flurry of activity and purpose setting the pace from there; everything in sharp contrast to the sensual conversation we’d just been having. Within minutes he closed the bill from our dinner and led me out to his car. Ethan’s firm touch pressed against my back, pushing me forward, taking me away to a place where he could have me. Alone.

Ethan drove us to a gorgeous glass building sitting high above the London skyline of previous centuries, modern but reminiscent of pre-war Britain in an elegant way.

“Good evening, Mr. Blackstone.” The uniformed doorman greeted Ethan and nodded politely toward me.

“Evening, Claude,” he returned smoothly. The pressure of his hand, ever present on my back propelled me forward into the open elevator. As soon as the doors closed us in he spun me and crushed his lips down on mine. It was just like the Shires Building all over again and I felt the punch of arousal hit me hard between my thighs. And I was starting to get a clearer picture of my companion as well. Reserved in public, Ethan was all proper gentleman and restraint, but behind closed doors? Look. Out.

His hands were all over me this time. I didn’t resist as he backed me into a corner. His touch warmed and made me soar both at once. He dragged his prickly whiskers down my neck and pushed his hand up my blouse to cup a breast. I gasped at the feel of his hot hands roaming as they made purposeful strides toward knowing my body. I arched into him, my chest thrusting out, pushing my breast further into his hand. He found my nipple through the lace and tugged.

“You’re so f**king ***y, Brynne. I’m dying for you,” he spoke against my neck, his breath tickling my flesh.

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The elevator stopped and the doors opened to an elderly couple waiting to get on. They took one look at us and passed on the lift. I tried to push back from him, to put some space between our bodies. For the second time today, I found myself panting for Ethan like a harlot, out in the open for all and sundry to see me.

“Not here, please, Ethan.”

His hand left my breast and reappeared from where it had been under my shirt. He brought it to rest on my neck. I felt his thumb start moving in a slow circle right under my chin. And then he smiled at me.

Ethan looked happy as he took my hand with his free one and brought it to his lips for a kiss. Damn, I loved when he did that.

“You’re right, and I apologize. Do you forgive me, Miss Bennett? I am afraid you make me forget where I am. ”

My belly flipped down low with an ache. I nodded at him because I couldn’t do anything else, and whispered, “It’s okay.” The elevator, bless its mechanical heart, kept moving us closer to his floor. I wondered what he would do as soon as he got me inside his apartment. Ethan had me totally under his spell and I was pretty sure he knew it too.

Finally the lift stopped at the top floor, the soft settling made my belly roll again as Ethan put his hand on me. The man was tactile—always touching if he could get away with it.

He used his key to unlock the carved oak doors and pushed one open, ushering me into his private space. It was a beautiful room, lighter than I would expect for a man. The main room sported a grey and cream palette, lots of wood and mouldings and decorative elements for such a modern space.

“This is beautiful, Ethan. Your home is lovely.”

Ethan shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it over a couch. Taking my hand in his, he led me over to a wall of windows and a balcony that looked out onto the breathtaking city lights of London.

But then he turned me away from the view out the glass doors to face him, and took a few steps backward. He just stared at me for a moment.

“But nothing is as beautiful as you standing here, right now, in my house, in front of me.” He shook his head, looking almost desperate. “Nothing compares.”

I felt the overwhelming urge to cry for some reason. Ethan was so intense and my poor brain was struggling to take everything in as he started moving toward me, slowly, like a predator. I’d seen the move before. He could go fast, slow, hard, gentle—any way, and make it look effortless.

My heart rate sped up as he came closer. When just inches from me, he stopped and waited. I had to lift my head to meet his eyes. So much taller than me, I could see his chest lifting with his own rapid breathing. It felt good to know he was as affected by this attraction as I was.

“I’m not beautiful like that…it’s just the camera lens,” I said.

He reached for my green sweater, undid the button, and slid it down off my back until it landed with a soft swish onto his shiny oak floor.

“You’re wrong, Brynne. You’re beautiful all the time.” He went for the hem of my silky black shirt and drew it up over my head. I lifted my arms to help him.

In my black lace push up bra I stood before him as he devoured me with passionate blue eyes. He brushed over my shoulders and traced over the swell of my breast with the back of his fingertips. The reverent touching made me ache for more and I couldn’t keep still any longer.

“Ethan…” I leaned forward into the stroking of his fingers.

“What, baby? What do you want?” He tilted my head to the side and exposed my neck. He kissed me there. The combination of his facial hair and those soft lips were electrifying. The pleasurable feelings grew to the point where I was totally lost to need. The point of no return had passed for me. I wanted him. Badly.

“I want—I want to touch you.”

I brought my hands up to his white dress shirt and loosened his deep purple tie. He held me loosely and stared as I unknotted the silk, tight as a bowstring ready to snap. My fingers worked at the knot and in a minute I had his tie slipping loose to join my green sweater on the floor. I started unbuttoning his shirt.

He hissed when my fingers touched his exposed skin.

“**** yes! Touch me.”

I pushed his fine white shirt off him to the growing pile on the floor. I looked at his bare chest for the first time and nearly wept. Ethan was tight with muscles and washboard abs that melted into the most erotic V-cut I’d ever seen on a man.

I leaned forward and touched my lips to the middle of his chest. He put his hands on either side of my head and held me to him, like he would never let go. His strength and dominance was pretty clear. When it came to ***, Ethan was the one in charge. And strangely, it soothed me to understand this. I was safe with him.

He moved down to kneeling, his hands sliding down my hips and then my legs. When he got to my shoes he tugged on first one and then the other and removed them sweetly from my feet. His hands skimmed back up to the waist of my linen pants. He pulled the string and loosened the tie and then dragged them to the floor. He steadied my legs while I stepped out of the crumpled heap of linen and then he kissed me right above the waist of my panties. My belly fluttered some more and the ache between my legs got stronger. Ethan brought his fingers to the black lace and slipped them under the elastic. He drew downward and then they were off me.

Bare to his eyes, he stared at my pu**y and he made a noise, very primal and very urgent and then he looked up at my face again. “Brynne…you’re so beautiful I can’t—**** I can’t wait—”

He feathered his fingers over my stomach and hips and pulled me forward to his lips and pressed them right on my bare mound. I shivered from the intimate touch that held me captive, waiting for what came next.

He stood back up and placed my hands deliberately on his waist. I got his message loud and clear. I started to work on his belt and then his slacks. He looked impressive. The ridge inside his boxers was impossible to ignore as his pants came down. He growled when my hand brushed over the thin black silk covering his straining ****. As I bent down to focus my efforts on removing him from his clothes, he unhooked the clasp on the back of my bra and pulled it away. I was totally naked.

“I won’t stay the night here, Ethan. Promise you’ll take me home after.”

He scooped me up and started carrying me out of the room. “I want you to stay with me. Once won’t be enough—not with you.” He kicked open a door and brought me into a bedroom. His face looked wild and desperate. “I need to f**k you first, and then I’ll go slow. Give me tonight. Let me make love to you tonight, beautiful Brynne.” He hovered over my face. “Please.”