All or Nothing (7 page)

6

I couldn’t take it anymore. I broke down and upgraded my phone to an international calling plan just so I could call Emmy. I missed her terribly and needed to hear her sweet voice. That little southern accent made everything better. I needed a pep talk. I needed my bestie.

She told me they were having a wonderful time and were getting ready to come home soon, though they’d considered just looking for properties in Tahiti and staying there permanently.

“What’s going on with you? Had any dates lately?” she asked.

“No,” I lied. “Nothing at all.”

“Have you seen Braydon again?”

“That was a one-time thing.” I had no clue why I was lying to my best friend, but something about my agreement with Braydon made me feel dirty. He was my little secret. “Can you come home early?” I begged, selfishly.

Emmy laughed. “Three more days till we’re reunited, babe. You want to do lunch when I get home? Maybe get pedicures?”

“Duh. Call me the second you land. I’m coming straight over. And I can’t be held responsible for dry-humping your leg like an overexcited lapdog when I see you.”

She laughed and we ended the call that was probably costing me a fortune per minute. But the sad, lonely feeling came back the moment I said good-bye.

How had it come to this? I felt pathetic. And I was sleeping with someone without any hope of commitment? Geez. How the mighty had fallen.

Maybe I was being too hard on myself. Hadn’t I encouraged Emmy to just go for it when she’d been so torn over Ben? Perhaps this arrangement with Braydon was exactly what I needed. I was too in my damn head all the time. I worked in a demanding field, I lived alone, and I rarely made time for fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that giddy butterfly feeling that I’d felt when Braydon and I had made love.
Shit
. I mean had sex. Fucked. That was definitely not making love. If I was going to survive this arrangement, I needed to keep my head in the game. This was about one megahot model with a huge, pierced schlong. Period. I could do this. I just needed to man up.

Grabbing life by the balls, I pulled up Braydon’s number and began a new text, pacing the room while I typed.

Me: Heyyy, it’s me. Wanna come over and play?

Two seconds later my phone pinged. What a lovely little
sound. I was thankful he didn’t make me wait. The sting of rejection would have been too much.

Braydon: You sure you can handle me this time? ;)

Me: Guess we’ll find out.

Braydon: Guess we will.

A few hours later, Braydon arrived. He grabbed a beer from my fridge and plopped down on my couch, kicking his feet up on the leather trunk, looking relaxed and happy.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said with a smirk, falling into the chair beside him.

“Oh, I will.” He grinned at me. The one where his mouth pulled up crookedly and showed off his dimple. Sweet baby Jesus. I clamped my thighs together while he brought the bottle to his lips for another swig, seemingly unaware of the sexual yearnings he so easily produced within my body.

“Have you had dinner?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted. Food hadn’t really been on my mind when inviting him here.

“I’m starving. You want to eat?”

“Sure. Let me grab my purse.” I hopped up from the chair.

“Nah. We’ll stay in, get something delivered,” he said, crossing his feet at the ankles and relaxing back into the sofa.

“Oh. Sure. That works.” I couldn’t help but notice his reluctance to go out. Did he not want to be seen in public with me? I was certain I was being irrational, but something about the situation tugged at the back corner of my mind. He was hungry and it was easier to order in, I told myself. Except that
I had a great deli just down the street from my building that he surely passed by every time he came to my apartment. It’d be quick and easy to just go down there. Maybe there was something about our arrangement that he wanted to keep hidden. I decided to test my theory.

“You don’t always have to come here, I can go to your place sometimes, too,” I offered.

“Nah, that’s okay.”

“I’d like to. I mean, I don’t even know where you live.”

The set of his jaw turned serious. “I don’t really have people over.”

“Braydon, I don’t care if your place is a mess.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just sort of private about my personal space.”

I blew out a frustrated breath. He’d been inside me, yet I couldn’t see his apartment? God, men were confusing.

Pushing away the thoughts, I wandered into the kitchen and grabbed the stack of takeout menus from my cupboard. “What are you in the mood for?” I asked, sitting next to him on the couch and dumping the papers into his lap.

“Let’s order from Pow Thai Café. I’m craving their lemongrass shrimp.”

“Poo Poo Café? Ew. No thanks.”

He chuckled. “Poo Poo?”

“Yeah, that place makes you poop.”

His mouth twitched in a smile. “Newsflash, Ellie. All food makes you poop.”

“Yes, but I’d rather not take a direct laxative right now. Seriously, that place and my stomach do not mix.”

He shook his head at me, still smirking. “That was probably more information than I needed, but thanks for sharing. You pick the place then.”

“The Eat Shop. And they deliver, too, since you’re so anti going out.”

His mouth pulled down in a frown. “Fine. Get me whatever you recommend.”

I ordered couscous salad and grilled salmon while Braydon continued quietly sitting on my couch, sipping his beer and watching me. This arrangement between us confused me. I had figured the majority of the time we’d spend together would be between the sheets. But this felt like more than just sex. This was different. Comfortably ordering delivery together, chatting casually, sipping beers on my couch . . . It felt like more.

When our food arrived, we served ourselves then settled back onto the couch. He talked between bites of salmon and couscous and I listened, genuinely interested in learning more about him. He told me about his many passions—working out, good food, handcrafted beers, and sex. I almost choked when I heard that last one.

“Care to tell me why you’re so antimen?” Braydon asked, taking a bite of his salmon.

“Let’s see . . . my last boyfriend had a habit of filming the girls he slept with. He had over twenty videos of girls, and I
was rumored to be one of them.” I poked at the salad on my plate.

“Shit.” His eyebrows shot up. “But you weren’t?”

“No, thank God. Then there was the guy who I thought was a car salesman but turned out to be just a car thief instead.” I waited for his judgment but none came. “Basically, my dating experiences the last few years have taught me one thing—that men are not to be trusted.”

“I can’t argue with any of that, so I won’t try. But I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Yeah, thanks.” I picked at the hem of my shirt, plucking imaginary lint from it. “It was quite a string of bad luck. I was starting to think it was me.”

His expression turned serious, his eyes darkening. “It’s not you. Trust me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re lovely. Quite a catch, kitten.” His words were too kind. Too sweet, considering the kind of arrangement we had. Being sweet to me only deepened my feelings for him. Which wasn’t good. He’d been very clear about our relationship. Or lack thereof. I needed to remember that.

“What about you? No past relationships? Any ex-girlfriends I should be aware of?”

His expression darkened further and he set down his plate on the ottoman in front of us. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I just noticed in your pictures online that you never have a girl with you. There was even one blog claiming you were gay.”

“I like pussy way too much to be gay. I guess you’re right, though, I do tend to fly solo, mostly. I don’t typically bring the girls I’m seeing to events with me.”

I wasn’t talking about events. I never expected to be on his arm walking the red carpet. I was referring to simple things like meeting for breakfast or going to the movies, but I merely nodded. Something told me not to push him on this. I swallowed a lump of unease in my throat. He was so fun and easygoing one minute and then so guarded and closed off the next.

Braydon Kincaid, my own little Rubik’s Cube to solve.

After dinner we cuddled together on the couch, Braydon with his legs resting on the ottoman and me with my feet curled under me while I leaned against his shoulder.

“Sooo . . . our arrangement . . . what happens when Ben and Emmy get home?” I asked.

“What about them? What you and I have is no one’s business but our own.”

I nodded, my heart silently pinching in my chest. After several minutes of silence, his eyes slowly raked over me, making me shiver. The longer he watched me, the further away thoughts of refusing him drifted. “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look right now?” he asked.

I looked down at my yoga pants and comfy T-shirt, my brain struggling to comprehend if he was kidding or being serious.

“Most girls want to impress me with their designer clothes, lingerie, accessories, makeup . . .” He leaned closer.
“No one’s ever like this with me, you know? I like that you’re confident enough to just be you.”

His words meant a lot to me, only I had no idea how to react to them. Were we good buddies? Something more? “Who else would I be?” I joked.

The seriousness of the mood fell away as Braydon let out a chuckle. He set down his beer and turned to me with a playful smile. “Sooo . . .” he rubbed his hands together. “What shall we do to entertain ourselves?”

I faked a yawn and stretched my arms over my head. “I’m exhausted. You’re welcome to stay and entertain yourself, though. There’s lube in my nightstand drawer if you need it.”

He let out a snort and tackled me on the couch. “Get over here.” He pressed me to the sofa, careful not to crush me under his weight but making sure I felt his firm body covering mine. “Why would I take care of myself when you have two perfectly functioning hands?” He traced a single fingertip over my lips. “And this pretty mouth I’d like to fuck.”

My insides went molten, sending a jab of lust through me. “You’re pretty confident there, mister.”

“I always get what I want.”

“And what do you want?” I challenged, finding that spark within myself once again as we bantered.

“To lay you down in your bed and make you come.”

His words melted me while bringing up all of my fears, despite the fact that I was trying to man up here. “After all of my dating mishaps, I don’t trust myself to make the right decisions about men.”

“Then trust your body.” He curled a strong hand around my wrist, drawing me closer. “What does it tell you?”

My pulse spiked, my breathing became labored, and my nipples hardened into points. Instead of making me feel cheap and used, Braydon made me feel vital and cherished. He could read my body so well, he seemed to know my hidden desires without me needing to voice them, but I realized I didn’t know much of what he desired.

“What do you like?” I murmured.

“I like an aggressive girl who goes after what she wants, when she wants it.”

Normally I was that way. But not so much with him. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he was so confident and sure that my body chose to submit to him rather than compete for control. I wanted to hand him the reins and let him take over. And I hadn’t felt that way about a man, well . . . ever. I pushed him off me and Braydon frowned slightly as he sat up. But when I took his hand and tugged him to my bedroom, his sexy, playful smile was back in full force and my insides did a little flip-flop.

We settled on the bed and Braydon pulled me close, kissing my neck and the ticklish spot behind my ear. I let out a soft moan. “You’re so sexual,” he breathed against my skin.

“I’m sorry?”

His mouth lifted in a smile as he chuckled softly. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Hearing Braydon mention the word
love
in relation to me wasn’t healthy. I had to reel my brain in from barraging me
with images of us dashing off into the sunset, me in a white poufy dress. “What is?” I asked.

“You’re such a firecracker. So sassy, intelligent, and confident. You don’t take any shit. But then when we’re together, you turn yourself over to me fully. When I’m buried deep inside you, you submit to me completely.”

I dropped my head and blushed. Oops. Maybe I was too obvious in my growing feelings for him.

“It’s incredibly sexy, kitten. Trust me.”

I did trust him. I trusted him with my body. I knew he’d make sure I was satisfied. I just didn’t trust him with my heart. But that feeling of mistrust had practically been conditioned into me from an early age. After years of infidelity, my dad had finally left my mom for his secretary. It had shown me that I needed to pick my mate carefully. I wouldn’t end up bitter and broken like my mother, thanks to an asshole disguised as Mr. Right. The jury was still out on the delicious man in front of me and I needed to play this game of cat and mouse carefully.

7

“God, you skinny bitch, you’re so tan,” I said enviously to Emmy. I was helping her shop for a new sofa, which was why we were currently in New Jersey, courtesy of Ben and Emmy’s driver, at a megahuge furniture store.

She laughed at me and headed past the sectional sofas. “Of course I’m tan; we were on a tropical island for nearly a month. I swear, I don’t know how I lost weight on our honeymoon though. I ate very well—trust me.” She paused to look down critically at a bright orange couch, chewing on her lip. “We did go hiking and surfing, and we had plenty of sex.” She whispered the last part.

“Sex is a great workout,” I agreed. We continued roaming the rows upon rows of couches and love seats. “Any of these standing out to you?”

“What do you think about something like this?” Emmy stood back, admiring a steely gray modern-looking sofa.

It suited her and Ben’s style perfectly. Simple yet classy. “I think that would look great in your place.”

Her smile fell when she checked the price tag. “Never mind.”

I reached down and flipped the tag over to see the price myself. “Emmy,” I chastised her. “It’s not that expensive. You forget you’re in a different income bracket now.”

She picked at her fingernails, deciding what to do. After a few moments of thinking it over, she realized I was right. It was as if she were realizing, for the first time, that her life had really changed. She was no longer a single girl in the city struggling to make ends meet. For a moment, the thought struck me with a pang of sadness. I hated the idea that Emmy and I were changing, and the possibility of us growing apart because of our differences. I vowed then and there that I wouldn’t let that happen. I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I think you should get it, sweetie.”

She nodded, fixing her mouth in a smile. “Yeah, I think I will. And maybe those matching chairs.” She pointed to two armchairs with a geometric pattern that contained splashes of gray and mustard yellow. They were funky and the perfect complement to the solid-colored sofa.

“Definitely,” I confirmed. “And these.” I grabbed a couple of fluffy pillows in a pretty deep plum shade.

Emmy smiled and followed me to the front to check out. “So what’s new with you?”

My secret affair with Braydon had been at the tip of my tongue all day, and I wondered if now was the time to come
clean. I summoned my courage while Emmy ordered the couch and chairs and arranged delivery. “I’ve been seeing someone,” I finally said.

“Oh my God, who?” she demanded to know, whipping around to look at me after handing her platinum credit card—complete with her new name—to the sales clerk.

“Um . . .” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Braydon.”

“Really?” She cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows darting up her forehead. “Braydon? Like, Braydon, Braydon?”

Why was there such shock in her features and surprise in her voice? “The one and only.” I stood my ground, waiting to understand her reaction. “Why?”

She signed the slip of paper and passed it back to the clerk. “Bray doesn’t do relationships. Ben says he’s always been more of a loner.”

Hearing her nickname for him irked me. I wasn’t sure why, but I frowned. I never said anything about a relationship. “Well, we’re not, like, openly dating,” I said, dropping my voice so the sales clerk couldn’t overhear. “We sort of have an . . . arrangement.”

Emmy’s mouth puckered in a grimace. “What kind of arrangement?”

Shit. She was going to make me say it.
We meet up for sex at my apartment.
I accepted the shopping bag of pillows from the clerk and turned for the door. “Come on. I’ll explain over lunch.”

Emmy’s unease was obvious as Henry, her driver, drove us to a seafood restaurant for lunch. But thankfully she respected
my privacy and didn’t ask any more questions in his presence. Only when we were seated with glasses of iced tea and a basket of buttery rolls did we pick up our conversation again.

“So . . .” she prompted. “I thought it was just a one-time thing at our wedding reception . . .”

I tore into the bread, needing something to distract me. “Yeah, so did I. But we’ve begun meeting up again.”

“And . . .”

“And he’s made it very clear that he isn’t looking for a relationship—we’re just having fun and exploring the chemistry between us.”

She took a sip from her straw. “I think that’s fine as long as you’re on the same page, too.”

Yeah, that was part of the problem
. I was back and forth with our agreement. I let out a soft sigh and Emmy reached across the table and gave my hand a gentle squeeze, recognition passing between us. She knew me well enough to know that it wasn’t an ideal situation. It was also similar to how her relationship with Ben had begun.

Changing the topic, we chatted about her honeymoon and placed our orders, but all the while the topic of Braydon hung heavily in the air between us.

“Have you ever been to Braydon’s place?” I asked out of the blue.

She shook her head. “No, Ben’s only been there a couple of times. He’s pretty private.”

That definitely fit with what Braydon had told me about himself. Still, I was surprised that even Ben, his best friend,
had hardly been to his place. It was strange, given how open he was in other ways.

Emmy smiled softly and I stole a shrimp from her plate, trying to lighten the mood. “He really is a good guy, Ells. Just be patient with him, okay?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling irrational and overly emotional. I set the shrimp down uneaten on my plate. “Yeah. I will.” I was powerless to stop this thing developing between me and him. I only wished I knew where it was headed. “Emmy?”

“Hmm?” She set down the piece of bread she was nibbling on.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“How did you know about Braydon’s piercing?”

Her cheeks flamed red and her eyes dropped from mine to the bread on her plate.

“Em?”

She refused to look back up, and instead sat silently spinning the large diamond ring on her finger.

I didn’t know why my question caused her to shut down. I assumed Braydon himself had let it slip, or maybe, worst-case scenario, she’d somehow caught a glimpse of him in the buff during a quick change in between runway shows.

“Ugh,” Emmy groaned. “Shit. I’ll tell you. Just don’t freak out, okay?”

Whatever she had to say, it couldn’t be
that
bad, could it? “Okay,” I agreed.

“So . . . in Paris, before Ben and I started dating, we were just sort of having this intense sexual affair.”

“Yes.” I knew that. What did that have to do with Braydon?

“Well, I met Bray one night at an afterparty where Ben had had too much to drink and he helped me get Ben back up to our hotel room.” She paused, trying to let me catch up.

“And what, you and Braydon played
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours
while Ben was passed out drunk?”

“No. It’s not that simple.”

“Keep going,” I bit out, my jaw tense.

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

The truth was, I wasn’t sure. “I think I have to.”

She nodded. “Well, late that night, Fiona called Ben’s phone and Ben, in his drunken state, made some comment to Bray. ‘Don’t tell Emmy about Fiona.’ I asked him about it the following day and he admitted to me that he and Braydon had been intimate with Fiona—that they’d shared her.”

Whoa
. I knew that type of thing went on behind closed doors, but between my own friends? It only demonstrated how very different the world of high fashion was from my own simple life. I couldn’t believe Braydon had gotten it on with that megabitch who ran one of the top modeling agencies—and Emmy’s former boss. In one conversation with Emmy, I was learning more about Braydon’s sexual past than I had in the time I’d spent with him. This wasn’t territory we’d covered.

“And you know, I was so wrapped up in Ben and I hated his relationship with Fiona.”

I nodded, fearful of where this was heading.

“I felt this strange competitiveness with her and I hated that she’d shared an experience with Ben that I hadn’t. I couldn’t have her one-upping me. I decided if she’d had Ben and Braydon together, then I needed to, too.”

Holy shit!
“Emmy . . . what are you saying?” I held my breath.

“Ben arranged the whole thing. We went out to dinner and then back to his hotel room . . .” She paused. “And . . . I went to bed with both of them.”

All the air was vacuumed from my lungs and I let out a gasp of surprise. I felt like someone had sucker-punched me in the gut. What the fuck? “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was out of character, something I never thought I’d try—and of course I never imagined you’d start dating him.”

I wasn’t dating him, but I was too stunned to correct her. Nothing about this situation seemed within the realm of anything I’d ever imagined from my conservative best friend and her ultra-possessive husband. “How was Ben possibly okay with that? I can’t imagine him agreeing to share you with another man.”

“You have to remember, Ben and I weren’t together at that time—not exclusively. And by agreeing to it, he was trying to convince himself that our relationship was just a sen
sual fling and nothing more. But after that night, everything changed. That night sparked something in him. He realized that he couldn’t share me, that he wanted me for himself. And for that reason alone, I’m glad I went through with it. Not to mention, he trusts Braydon completely. I think that was part of the reason why he allowed it.”

Wow. There was so much more drama to Ben and Emmy’s relationship than I ever imagined. If they could get their happily ever after, there was hope for all of us.

“Say something, Ells.” Her eyes were pure agony, lines etched into her forehead like she truly felt horrible she’d slept with Braydon and kept it from me. Good. I wanted to let her suffer for a few seconds more.

“It’s so weird to think you know how he is in bed.”

She chewed on her lip. “Yes and no. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all the gory details, but to be honest, I was more focused on Ben during the whole encounter. The sad, haunted look in his eyes is the thing I remember most.”

That filled me with the tiniest amount of relief.

“But yes, trust me,” she continued, “I know Braydon is smoking hot and very talented. I knew he’d make some girl very happy someday. I just wasn’t her.”

I hated that she had firsthand knowledge of just how good he was between the sheets, that she’d seen his sexy piercing. I had to remind myself that they didn’t share the off-the-charts chemistry that he and I did. Their relationship was much more like brother and sister, which made it even weirder. I forced it from my mind. Dwelling on it would amount to
nothing good. I could either make it into a big, awkward deal or I could accept that it happened and move on. Man, I needed a glass of wine.

• • •

After learning so many new things from Emmy—that she had had a threesome with Ben and Braydon and that he was, indeed, fiercely private—I decided to test Braydon a little that night. I wanted to see if he’d invite me to his apartment. I was sharing my body, my time, and my bed with this man. I needed to know that we were on equal footing. Emmy was convinced he was a good guy. We’d see about that. Plus it’d provide a private place for us to talk—if I was brave enough to ask him about his adventures in Paris with Ben and Emmy. I still hadn’t decided about that.

I dialed his number and waited while it rang. Braydon answered on the third ring. “Hey, kitten.”

“Hi there. Got any plans tonight?” I tried to sound easygoing and light. I didn’t want to seem too demanding or pushy. At least not straightaway. But I was hoping to get my way.

“If I did, I’d cancel them for a chance to see your sweet ass.”

He could be so sweet and playful when he wanted to. “Actually, I had something in mind. . . .” I let the rest of my thought go unvoiced—a subtle attempt to entice him.

“Hmm. I like that. I’ll come over.”

“No, I haven’t cleaned,” I blurted out, losing some of my nerve.

“I don’t care about that. I’m not coming over to inspect the vacuum lines in your carpet. I’m coming to see you.”

“Yes, but I’m sick of my place. I’d rather go out—or really anywhere but here. How about your place?” I needed to take a stand. We’d only ever met up at my apartment. I crossed my index and middle fingers, awaiting his response. He’d either open up and share a piece of himself with me or he’d blow me off. I had to know.

Braydon was silent for a moment. “I’ll get us a hotel room—downtown if you like.”

I was completely thrown off by his suggestion. A part of me wanted to argue, but the prospect of not seeing him forced an answer from me before I could think it through. “Sure, why not.”

“Great. I’ll text you the hotel and room number. Hop in a cab, babe.”

“See you soon.”

As soon as I hung up the phone I regretted agreeing to his offer. True, I’d said that I wanted to get out of my apartment, but meeting up at a hotel for sex was worse than being in my own space. And I was left wondering, more than ever, why Braydon wouldn’t let me into his apartment.

After he texted me the details, I hopped in a cab for the hotel. The bellman pulled open the large glass doors and I entered a decadent lobby with stone floors and crystal chandeliers hanging high above. It made me miss my little apartment and cuddling on my couch with Bray. This made our arrangement feel like something else entirely. I didn’t like it. But I entered the elevator and rode up to the seventh floor,
conflicted by my intense desire to see him. When I reached the room and knocked, the door was quickly pulled open.

Braydon stood before me in jeans, a white T-shirt, and bare feet. “You made it.” He smiled warmly, like this was completely normal. We both had homes in this city. Why were we at a hotel?

“I’m here,” I said, my voice devoid of all excitement. Though I was happy to see him and his smile, my head was spinning like a record. Heading inside, I realized he’d rented a suite. It seemed a little over the top for just one night, and I suddenly found myself wondering about his income. Ben certainly made a good living modeling. It appeared Braydon did, too. Not that it mattered to me. I was just curious to learn all I could about this man and his life.