“When?” I ask.
“Tomorrow. I’ll call and have the jet ready to leave in the morning.”
I smile through the mess that is my face. “Thank you. Thank you, Braden.”
“But Skye…”
“What?”
He brushes a tear from my cheek. “New York isn’t an escape. The club isn’t an escape.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Of course.” I sniffle. “I just feel like… I don’t know. I feel like everything will be okay there, you know?”
“I do know, probably more than you even comprehend, but I don’t labor under any delusion that real life ceases to exist in the club.”
I do know.
He understands. The club is something he needs, too.
But he keeps it in New York for a reason—a reason other than what he says—and I’m beginning to understand.
Why, though? If it gives him pleasure—gives him an escape from real life, if only for a few hours—why limit himself?
I don’t ask, for I know he won’t answer.
I just revel in the knowledge that we’re going back to New York tomorrow. I’ll do an amazing post for Susie Girl in downtown Manhattan. I’ll write copy that makes cosmetics fly off the shelves, not something mundane about lip gloss after yoga.
I’ll restore the faith Eugenie has in me.
“Oh!” I jerk upward into a stand.
Braden rises as well. “What?”
“Chocolate mousse! I made dessert, and it turned out perfectly. I can’t offer you shrimp étouffée, but I can offer you rich and delicious dessert.”
“We haven’t had dinner yet, Skye.”
“So? What’s wrong with dessert first? We can order something to be delivered and have our dessert while we wait.”
Braden opens the refrigerator and pulls out the two parfait glasses of chocolate mousse. “Fine. I’ll have Christopher order something for us, and we’ll eat this first, with only one condition.”
“What’s that?”
His gaze darkens. “We eat it in the bedroom.”
My skin warms. The bedroom. He has plans for my chocolate mousse, plans I know I’ll love.
But my face. I’m red and swollen and tear-stained. “Braden…”
“Follow me,” he says, his voice low and dark.
Apparently he doesn’t care about my face, which should please me but doesn’t. Because I care what I look like for him. I want to be beautiful—or at least not repugnant.
We enter his bedroom, and he closes the door. Then he does something he almost never does. He sets the two parfait glasses on the night table and strips off all his clothes without having me do so first. I catch my breath at the beautiful sight of him, his masculine perfection.
He turns to me. “Take off your clothes.”
I’m only wearing a dress, shoes, and panties, and I discard them hastily.
He approaches me, his cock huge and erect. I expect him to grab me and kiss me or to order me onto the bed. Instead, he cups my cheek.
“Something broke in me today, Skye.”
I part my lips and widen my eyes.
“When I saw you so distraught, so sad, so upset, something squeezed my heart. I knew I had to act, had to do whatever necessary to make you smile again.”
I curve my lips upward. “I’m smiling now, Braden.”
He trails his finger over my lower lip. “You have such a sexy mouth. Do you have any idea how you affect me?”
“I’m beginning to.”
“I’m not just talking physically. When you part your lips in that seductive way, I want to plunder them. But mentally, Skye. Emotionally. When you were sobbing, I was sobbing, too.”
I cock my head.
“Not physically but emotionally. I hurt when you hurt.” He shakes his head. “That’s never happened to me before, at least not to this extent.”
I part my lips farther, resisting the urge to drop them into an O.
“You’ve gotten inside me somehow. Yes, I’ve fallen in love with you, but it’s more than that. It’s… Fuck. I don’t have the words. I’m not sure they exist.”
“Braden, I—”
Then his lips are on mine, his tongue inside my mouth, his hand on my bare breast, squeezing, thumbing the nipple. Another hand between my legs, parting the slick folds of my pussy. I wrap my arms around his neck and melt into him, our bodies touching everywhere. His cock pushes into my belly. I grind into him, thrusting my clit against his hardness.
I love you, Braden. I love you, Braden. I love you, Braden.
The emotion swirls around me, coils through me—all the love I never knew I could feel, I feel now. In this moment. For this man.
He rips his mouth from mine and gasps in a breath. Then he clamps his lips onto the top of one of my breasts and bites me.
Hard.
Fucking hard.
I cry out at the pleasure-pain. “Marking you.” He pants against my flesh. “You’re mine.”
My hand trails to my bare neck. He removed the diamond choker after our first time at the club. “The collar…” I say.
“Not enough. Not enough to make you mine.” He lifts me then, right over his shoulder as if I’m a sack of potatoes. He nearly throws me on the bed. “The feelings I have for you are strong. So strong.”