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  “I told you. You’re the only one I’m sleeping with this week. I haven’t fucked anyone else since I started fucking you.”

  “Good,” I say. “Keep it that way.”

  “Skye—”

  “If I’m your”—air quotes—“‘girlfriend,’ I deserve to be the only one in your bed.”

  He stares at me, his expression shadowy and unreadable. Finally—

  “Okay.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. His answer is not what I expected.

  “You’re surprised,” he says.

  “A little.”

  “What kind of man do you think I am, Skye?”

  “That’s just it, Braden. I don’t know what kind of man you are. You refuse to talk about anything personal. You’re intelligent, obviously. You’re an excellent businessperson. You do some charity work. But that’s all I know other than what magazines report.”

  “You know I love oysters.”

  “For God’s sake, Braden.”

  He sighs. “You know as much as anyone else does. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No, it’s not, especially if I’m”—air quotes again—“your ‘girlfriend.’”

  “Fuck,” he says through clenched teeth. He grabs my breast and thumbs my nipple over two layers of fabric.

  Sparks arrow between my legs.

  He leans into me and kisses my neck, scraping his teeth over my skin.

  I shudder.

  God, I want that orgasm.

  “You want to know about me?” he rasps into my ear. “Here’s all you need. Since I laid eyes on you, I haven’t been able to think about anyone else. Your mouth, your tits, your curious and controlling nature—everything about you beguiles me. Since I first fucked you, all I can think about is fucking you again. You’re all I think about”—he bites my earlobe—“and it…perplexes me. Not much perplexes me, Skye. You’re like a narcotic. I hunger for you.” He inhales. “God, I love how you smell—like apples and sex. You taste even better. You want to be the only one in my bed? You don’t even have to ask. You’re the only woman I want right now. The only one.”

  A low growl vibrates from my throat as my belly flutters and my pussy pulsates.

  He scrapes his teeth along the outer edge of my ear. “Now, let me give you that climax.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  He lifts my tank top over my head and throws it on the floor. Then he unhooks my bra and discards it as my breasts fall against my chest. He cups them, kneads them, and then he buries his nose between them, kissing them and thumbing my nipples.

  I’m still high from his sexy monologue. I want to return the sentiment, but I’m currently incapable of speech. Every cell inside my body is humming, ready to be expertly strummed by Braden’s deft fingers and tongue.

  He nibbles the tops of my breasts and then finally takes a nipple between his lips and sucks.

  I inhale sharply. I’m so ripe. One touch to my clit and I know I’ll implode on the spot.

  “So beautiful,” he says against my flesh.

  “Braden, please…”

  “Please what, baby?”

  “I…I want to come.”

  “You will.” He bites a nipple.

  “Oh!” It’s both painful and pleasurable.

  “You like that?” he says.

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  “Good. I could suck and bite your tits all day.” He nibbles on my other nipple and then raises his head again. “On the other hand, that paradise between your legs is even more beautiful.” He slides down my body, grasping my sweats, and glides them over my hips and legs.

  Now we’re both naked.

  Perfect.

  He spreads my legs. “God, yes. So beautiful.”

  I’ve never thought of that part of me as beautiful. Certainly not ugly, either. I honestly never gave its aesthetic value any thought at all. But I see the appreciative gaze in Braden’s blue eyes. He truly does think it’s beautiful—that I’m beautiful.

  “I’m going to make you come, Skye,” he says, his voice low and husky. “I’m going to make you come so many times that you’ll be begging me to stop.”

  “No,” I say, “I’ll never beg you to stop.”

  “You will.” He strokes his tongue over my clit.

  I quiver beneath him. Already I’m close to climax. He tugs on my flesh and then closes his lips over my clit. Sensation skyrockets through me. Braden knows which buttons to push, and he’s pushing them hard.

  “You taste so good, baby,” he says, lapping at me like I’m rich cream. “I’ll never get enough. But this isn’t about me.” He glides a finger into my pussy.

  And I shatter into millions of pieces—fragments of peace, of joy, of euphoria.

  I close my eyes and revel in the tornado lifting me onto a soft cloud of desire and passion.

  Braden’s voice floats in the air—that deep timbre that slides over me and drives me wild. Words hover outside my grasp. He adds another finger, urging me on and then sucking on my clit. I climb the peak again and yet again.

  Two orgasms and then three.

  I’m exploding and relishing it. My clit becomes so sensitive, it almost hurts, but no, I won’t beg him to stop.

  I’ll never beg him to stop.

  I’m a woman who only recently experienced a climax, and I may go into double digits tonight alone.

  His words form in the air and drift to my ears.

  Tell me to stop, Skye. Tell me it’s too much. Too much… Too much…

  A soft chuckle.

  You are obstinate. Fuck. I have to be inside you.

  Then he’s in me, his cock invading me with its granite heat. My pussy walls are still spasming, and the fullness completes me as he fucks me hard and quick, grinding over my clit so the climaxes continue.

  “Braden!” I cry out.

  “That’s it, baby. Keep coming. Keep coming. You’re so hot. That’s it. That’s it. Fuck!”

  He pushes into me, so deep I can almost feel him in my soul.

  I’m still spasming as he releases, and we come in tandem. Perspiration glistens on his forehead.

  He stays on top of me, our bodies still joined, for a few timeless moments.

  And for those few moments, I feel an utter completeness that is foreign to me.

  Too soon, he withdraws and rolls onto his back. I snuggle against his shoulder and kiss his salty flesh.

  “That was amazing,” I say.

  He doesn’t look at me. “You didn’t beg.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Any other woman would have begged me to stop. I know a woman’s body. I know that many orgasms are a toll, pleasure morphing to almost pain.”

  He’s not wrong.

  “But you didn’t beg me to stop. I’ll say it again. You’re my Everest, Skye.”

  I giggle. “I think you’ve already climbed me.”

  He opens his eyes and props his head in his hand to meet my gaze. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “You laughed.”

  “I was making a joke. About climbing on top of me?” I force a smile. How can he be upset about something so trivial?

  “I get what I want, Skye. Always. No matter how long it takes.”

  I swallow.

  “You gave in to me once. I want it again.”

  My body is so sated and relaxed, but still a tingle rushes toward my core. “And in return?”

  “You get me. You’re Braden Black’s girlfriend.”

  I bite my lower lip. I can’t deny my desire to be his girlfriend and his lover. I also can’t deny how giving up my control in his penthouse that night resulted in the most exciting sensations I ever experienced.

  “I think I’m already Braden Black’s girlfriend,” I s
ay. “Instagram doesn’t lie, after all.”

  I expect him to say something snide. Instead—

  “All right. What else do you want?”

  I answer quickly. “To be the only one. If you become interested in someone else, you have to tell me, and that will be the end. And I don’t want you to use condoms with me.”

  He stays quiet for a few seconds that seem like hours.

  Then—

  “Done.”

  Braden falls asleep a few minutes later, and I lie in his arms, my body still ultimately relaxed but my brain working overtime.

  I lost a golden opportunity. Why did I ask to be the only one? He already said he couldn’t think of anyone but me and that I made him go wild. When he asked what I wanted in return, I could have said so many other things.

  I want to know why you always use condoms even when there’s no reason to.

  I want to know about your mother.

  I want to know the truth about you and Addison.

  I kiss his shoulder and then his neck. I trail my fingers through the scattered black hair on his chest and then travel downward, over his sculpted abs to his nest of perfectly manscaped black curls. His cock lays flaccid. I touch the smooth flesh and let it rest beneath my fingers.

  I kiss his shoulder again and release his dick.

  “You are my Everest, Braden,” I whisper. “I will figure you out.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I wake the next morning to a kiss on my forehead. I jerk upward.

  Braden is already dressed, his hair damp.

  “You took a shower?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I’ve never used raspberry shampoo before. I like the fruity smell.” His lips twist into a half smile.

  I giggle without meaning to, and then I part my lips and inhale. His natural scent mingled with my shampoo smells like heaven.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you,” he continues. “You were out.”

  A yawn splits my face. “I can’t believe I didn’t wake up.”

  “I can.”

  “You can? Why?”

  “Multiple orgasms will do that to you.” The words sound so matter-of-fact as he stares at his phone.

  “What time is it?”

  “Seven.”

  “Oh, good. I have plenty of time to get to work.”

  Still perusing his phone screen, he turns to me. “Looks like I have to go to New York for a few days.”

  “Oh,” I say, trying not to sound melancholy. “Who will take care of Sasha?”

  “Annika will. I’m texting her now. I’ll be back Saturday morning. Saturday evening, I’d like you to accompany me to a benefit for the Boston Opera Guild.”

  I nod. “Sure. Okay.”

  He kisses my lips softly. “Wear the black dress.”

  Then he’s gone, almost as if he disappeared in a poof of smoke. I yawn again and wipe the sleep out of my eyes.

  Braden spent the night in my bed, in my tiny apartment. He stayed the night.

  Now he’s gone with only a chaste kiss. He’s going to New York. New York, where beautiful businesswomen are everywhere. Where gorgeous models are everywhere. Today is Tuesday, and he won’t be back until Saturday morning. That’s four evenings where he’ll no doubt be wining and dining other businesspeople.

  Doesn’t he need his “girlfriend” on his arm for the social parts?

  Not that I can go anyway. Addie likes at least a month’s notice before I take time off.

  I sigh, get up, wander to the kitchenette to start a pot— I inhale. Of course. Braden already made a pot of coffee. He loves coffee as much as I do.

  I smile and pour myself a mugful.

  No time to ruminate on what—or who—Braden will do in New York. I have to go to work.

  …

  Addie’s in early today because we have a shoot at ten. It’s a smaller client, a local woman who makes her own pet products. Addie’s chihuahua, Baby—yes, that’s her name, even though she’s a vicious little creature—is yapping in her kennel. Baby stars in all the pet-themed shoots. I love dogs, but this one gets on my last nerve. I never met a dog who didn’t love me until Baby. The little monster growls at everyone except her owner, and she even snaps at Addie on occasion. And you can guess who gets the honor of cleaning up if Baby has an accident.

  Still, Addie dotes on her and carries her around as if she were a real baby while I try not to gag.

  I sit down at my desk, fire up the computer, and review the details for today’s shoot. We’ll go to Betsy’s Bark Boutique and shoot a photo of Addie feeding Baby some of Betsy’s homemade grain-free peanut butter treats. Betsy is an old childhood friend of Addie’s, so she does the shoots gratis. Thank God I get paid. Getting a shot where Addie is convinced that both she and Baby look good sometimes requires dozens of takes.

  I’m not looking forward to it.

  The Bark Boutique is near the harbor. I call and confirm our transportation, and then I message Tessa, whose office is near, to meet me there after the shoot for lunch. As soon as I hang up, the phone rings again.

  “Addison Ames’s office,” I say into the receiver. “This is Skye.”

  “Good morning, Skye, it’s Eugenie from Susanne Cosmetics.”

  “Hi there. I’ll transfer you to Addison.” I put the call on hold and buzz Addie. “It’s Eugenie.”

  “Who?”

  “The social media promotions director at Susanne.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

  I wait until Addie picks up and then hang up the line.

  I read through two emails and respond. Just as I’m about to click on another, Addie opens her office door and stomps out carrying Baby’s kennel. She sets it down, opens it, and a yapping Baby shrieks through the office like a racquetball pinging off every wall.

  “What the hell is going on, Skye?” Addison demands.

  “Just responding to emails.”

  “Right.”

  “Addie, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I hit Send quickly and close out of the mailbox.

  “Eugenie,” she says.

  “What did she want? Is there a new color of lip plumper she wants you to model?”

  Addie sits on the edge of my desk and looks down at me. I don’t like the fact that she’s on higher ground, so I stand.

  She shoots daggers at me with her eyes. “Eugenie didn’t call for me.”

  “Then why did she call?”

  “She wanted to talk to you.”

  My jaw drops. “Me? Why would she—”

  “I don’t appreciate looking like I’m out of the loop,” she snaps. “Why did you transfer her?”

  “I honestly thought—”

  “Apparently Susanne has gotten hundreds of orders for their Cherry Russet lip stain because of a comment you made on Braden’s Instagram.” Addie grabs my purse off the desk, opens it, and turns it over, letting the contents fall onto my blotter.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demand angrily.

  She picks up the tube of lipstick. “What have we here? Cherry Russet lip stain.” She hurls it to the floor, startling Baby, who shrieks again.

  I’m not only angry at Addison for touching my stuff, I’m flummoxed. Truly flummoxed. Why would anyone care what kind of lipstick I use?

  “You have no right to—”

  “Get over it,” Addison says. “Your purse will survive, and as long as Baby is otherwise occupied, so will your lip stain.”

  I tamp down my anger long enough to try to figure out what’s going on. “I don’t understand. Did she call to thank me for the comment?”

  Addie scoffs. “Do you really think the director of social media promotions for a top cosmetics company would call to thank someone for a comment?”

  “Why else would she—”

&n
bsp; “She wants you to do a post, Skye. She wants to pay you to promote the lip stain on your Instagram profile.”

  “Me? I’m no influencer.”

  “You are now. Apparently you’re Braden Black’s girlfriend, and that makes you an instant influencer.” She scoffs again. “Oh, and to quote Eugenie, the stain is”—air quotes—“‘absolutely fabulous’ on you.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” I truly don’t. I never wanted to be an Instagram influencer. I just want to take pictures. Really good pictures that move people. Not selfies wearing lip stain.

  “This all makes sense now.” Addie tosses my empty purse onto the desk.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You. And Braden.” She shakes her head. “He’s just using you, you know.”

  A spear slices into my heart. Her words hurt, but I won’t show her that. “We just met.”

  “He’s using you. Trust me. He knows I’m getting older. He’s trying to make you into a bigger influencer than I am. Put me out of business.”

  “What?” I cock my head, incredulous. “You can’t be serious. First of all, Braden has his own business. Why would he have any interest in taking down yours?”

  “This has his stench all over it.”

  “Second,” I continue, “I’m a nobody.”

  “For God’s sake, Skye, you’re Braden Black’s girlfriend. You stopped being a nobody the minute he posted that first photo and tagged you in it.”

  The thought warms me but at the same time sends icy chills over my neck.

  Is she right? Is Braden using me?

  We got hot and heavy quickly. Too quickly, really, and he doesn’t want a relationship.

  Self-doubt washes over me. No. No, no, no. He likes me. He can’t stop thinking about me. He wants only me.

  “Call Eugenie,” Addie says. “Do the post. Make a few bucks. But you’ll never be me, Skye. You’ll never be as big as Addison Ames.” She marches back to her office and slams the door, leaving her dog still ricocheting wall to wall.

  I don’t want to be you, I say silently. I never wanted to be you.

  Still, her words have carved out a piece of my heart.

  I don’t care about Eugenie or Susanne Cosmetics. I don’t care about Addison’s anger at the moment. I don’t even care about her accusations that Braden is using me, though they’re most likely true.