“I’ll tell you what you’re asking. You want to know how you compare to Addie, to everyone I’ve slept with.”
Rather, she thinks she wants to know, but she actually doesn’t. I take a long drink of my bourbon and get ready to give her all she’ll get out of me tonight, including an admission of gratitude to one woman in my history.
“I’ll tell you only this. I’ve never cut a business trip short for any woman. Never…until now.”
I move forward until only inches separate us, but I don’t touch her. “You challenge me. You perplex me. And damn it, Skye, you fucking infuriate me. You want to know how I feel about Addison Ames? Honestly?”
She nods shakily.
“I’m grateful.”
“G-Grateful? Why?”
“If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t know you.”
“Braden, I—”
“Shut the fuck up.” I slam my lips down onto hers.
She opens instantly and accepts my tongue. I denied her a kiss earlier, and I meant to deny her the rest of this night.
But damn it… The sheer challenge of this woman. Her beauty and her candor. Her utter audacity.
She spreads her legs, straddles my thigh, and grinds against me.
Fuck. I kiss her harder, letting her seek friction against me, but only for a moment. I’m not yet ready to let her climax.
After a few moments, before she gets too far toward her goal, I break the kiss, turn her around against the kitchen island, and brush her slacks and
panties down her hips.
“Braden… Christopher. And Annika.”
“This is my house, not theirs.”
“But…”
“Quiet!” I roar, fumbling with my belt buckle. I unzip my pants, free my rock-hard cock.
Then my dick is inside her, pressing like a steam engine between her closed thighs and into her tight channel. God, she feels perfect. Wet and wonderful and perfect.
She cries out.
I grab her hands and place them flat on the marble countertop. “Don’t move,” I command.
I thrust into her again and again.
I’ve chosen this angle on purpose. She won’t get the friction she needs on her clit. Yes, I’m still denying her an orgasm, at least for this moment. Still punishing her, but this time, it’s not for stealing a piece of mail.
It’s for getting inside me. Taking me to a place I never wanted to go. I cut a fucking trip short for this woman. She’s trying to become a part of me, whether it’s conscious or subconscious on her part.
Doesn’t matter. She’s doing it.
And I’m angry. Angry that she means so much to me in so short a time. Angry that she makes me want things I have no business wanting.
Angry that she’s still fighting me. Still determined to keep her control.
Even now, I feel her pushing, trying to move forward against the marble countertop. Trying to touch her clit to the surface.