Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Ripe for the picking,” I affirm.
“Unfortunately, I have a meeting.”
“On a Saturday morning?”
“Racquetball. With my attorney.”
“Oh.” I try to hide my disappointment, but as usual, I know he sees right through me.
“I’ll pick you up at six tonight.”
“Okay. Where will we be going?”
“Dinner with my dad and brother, remember?”
Shit. That’s right. I can’t believe I forgot.
“Right, sorry.”
He lets the towel drop, and I try not to gape at his firm ass and semi-hard cock. He dresses in the clothes he wore last night. Then he checks his phone. “Christopher’s outside. I’ll see you tonight.” He stoops down and gives me a quick peck on the lips.
Please. Don’t leave. Stay here and fuck me. I need you so badly.
But he’s out the door, and I’m alone. Naked and alone and needy. I glance again at the pink vibrator. Then I pick it up, rise, and take it over to the sink to wash it. I put it away, buried in my top drawer once more with the others.
It’s always been useless to me, and it still is.
Only one man can make me come.
Braden. Only Braden.
I walk back out to the kitchen for more coffee, and—
I zero in on a large gift bag sitting on top of my small table. How had I missed it before? Unless Braden somehow hid it and then brought it out before he left the apartment this morning. My heart races as I read the tag.
For my favorite photographer. Love, Braden.
I gulp as I remove the tissue paper surrounding the contents of the bag. Then I gasp.
It’s a Canon EOS 5D Mark IV complete with lens kit—the camera of my dreams, which retails for about five thousand dollars.
My heart nearly stops.
He brought this last night—another gift he knew I’d love.
And I, because I insisted on taking control by refusing to find a phone charger, deprived him of his happiness in giving it to me.
“Oh, Braden,” I say out loud. I open the box and stare lovingly at what’s inside.
Man. I deserved that punishment.
…
“I just can’t get over it,” I say. “The camera…”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” Braden says during the ride to his father’s home.
I called him, of course, as soon as I could wrap my head around the fact that I now owned the camera I’d always wanted. He was in the middle of racquetball, so I left another voicemail. When he returned my call, I thanked him, stumbling over words and nearly sobbing. Then I thanked him profusely again when he arrived at my apartment this evening.
“I do,” I say. “You came to my apartment with a surprise for me, and I—”
“Stop, Skye. It’s okay. You’ve already been punished for that. It’s done.”
“But—”
“I want you to have the camera. It’s yours. You deserve it.”
I have no words left. This man will be my undoing. He’s stoic and controlling and a giant pain in my ass one minute. The next he’s loving and generous and thoughtful and romantic the next. My eyes leak a few tears.
He brushes them away with his lips. “Easy, now. I don’t want to introduce my girlfriend to my brother and father while she’s crying.”
I sniff back the tears and get hold of myself. “I love you, Braden.”
“I love you too, Skye.”
We arrive at a mansion in Swampscott. I try not to gape as Braden and I walk to the door.
“Your dad lives here?”
“Yep. This is where he hangs his hat.”
“Wow.”
“It’s just a house, Skye.”
“It’s not like any house I’ve ever been in.”
“You might want to save that judgment until you see the inside.”
Okay, fine. My judgment still won’t change.
A uniformed maid answers the door, her gray hair in a tight bun. “Good evening, Mr. Black.”
“Hello, Sadie. This is Skye Manning.”
“Ma’am,” she says. “May I take your jacket?”
“Sure.” I remove my cardigan, which isn’t actually a jacket, and hand it to her. After two phone calls with Tessa and one with Betsy, I decided on black capri pants, black strappy sandals, and a gray silk camisole.
Braden hasn’t said anything about my clothes, and because he was running late when he picked me up, I was already in the sweater and we didn’t have a chance to talk at my place.
But here we are. A marble tiled foyer below me and a crystal chandelier hanging above me. A huge living area off to the right, where two gentlemen sit.
Braden takes my hand, and we walk over to them. They both stand.
“Hey, Bray,” the younger man says.
“Ben, Dad, this is Skye.”
They’re both nearly as beautiful as Braden.
“Skye, this is my father, Bobby Black, and my brother, Ben.”
I shake Bobby’s hand first. He’s actually slightly taller than both of his sons. His hair is completely gray, and he has some laugh lines around his dark-brown eyes, but talk about a silver fox.
“Pleased to meet you,” he says.