Extreme Close-Up (Perspectives Book 1) (6 page)

Lisa spent the next day on a sickening roller-coaster of adrenaline spikes and morning-after regrets. The regrets hit the moment her eyes popped open. The adrenaline began when she heard the message she had missed while berating herself in the shower, “Mrs. Taylor, this is Paul at Camp Big League, again. Your check still hasn’t cleared, and as you know full payment is required for Jake to finish the summer here...”

Thoughts of Jake coming home led directly to Braden and the stupid,
stupid
thing she did last night. Obviously, it would never happen again. She’d swear Braden to secrecy and pray to all that is holy that no one else -- especially Vance, Elena and above all, Jake -- ever found out.

Which brought on another surge of adrenaline, since it was fucking Vance’s fault that her fucking check didn’t clear. But he was on fucking vacation in fucking Europe with fucking Elena, and couldn’t be bothered to respond to Lisa’s fucking messages.

Of course, if Vance and Elena weren’t in Europe, Braden wouldn’t have had the house to himself, so he wouldn’t have had enough privacy for video chat, and Lisa wouldn’t now be plagued with self-loathing.

And so it went.

She dodged Braden’s calls and texts, using the true excuse that she was busy editing the portrait shots of the lawyers. (It really wasn’t easy making the stone-faced look life-like.) She swapped email with Jake, keeping it light and not letting on that he might soon be kicked out of his favorite place in the world, or that she had let his oldest friend and childhood hero watch her masturbate while he did the same. Mother of the fucking year, she was.

By the end of the week, the mood swings had her feeling schizophrenic. When she stopped by the law firm to drop off the portrait proofs, she didn’t try to avoid Natalie’s intuitive grilling. She
needed
it, knowing her friend wouldn’t judge her for being such a huge freaking idiot. But Mr. Simmons was dangling the partnership carrot again, so Nat hardly looked up from her work when Lisa came by. She’d hoped to see Thomas while she was there -- since she looked like shit and felt even worse, it would’ve been easy to make an excuse to cancel their date the following night. Unfortunately, he wasn’t around.

Checking email before bed that night, she broke into hysterical laughter when her catalogue client officially cut her fees again. It was just the cherry on top of her crappy life.

When Thomas called Saturday afternoon to confirm their date, Lisa couldn’t bring herself to cancel. There were worse ways to spend a few hours than having a nice dinner in the company of an attractive, intelligent man, so she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower.

She owned a few cocktail dresses, but it had been years since she’d had occasion to wear them. The little black dress she had worn to Vance’s company’s holiday gala; the sleek red dress she had worn to Vance’s fortieth birthday party; and the blush-colored knit she had worn to Braden’s sister’s wedding. Despite a lengthy battle with various undergarments of torture, the blush was the only dress that fit well enough to wear in public.

It wasn’t her first choice for tonight, but it was a pretty dress. The rich, nude color complemented her skin tone. The deep square neckline showed more cleavage than she was usually comfortable with, but the knee-skimming skirt flared just enough to hide the round hips and ass she had inherited from her grandmother. With high-heeled black pumps, the ensemble accentuated the positive and eliminated the negative as well as she could hope.

After styling her hair to fall in soft golden waves around her shoulders, she applied minimal makeup. Luckily, she had also inherited her grandmother’s skin, so she only needed a little powder foundation, although she added a sweep of blush because she looked sallow. Her dark-chocolate eyes (her best feature, if she had to choose something) needed no more enhancement than a few strokes of mascara. She slicked on sheer berry lipstick and stepped through a cloud of jasmine perfume, right as the doorbell rang at ten minutes to seven.

Pasting on a smile, she opened the door. “Hi, you’re early--” Her arm itched with the urge to slam the door when she saw Braden on the other side.

He looked her up and down with appreciation. “Looks to me like I’m right on time.”

“Sorry. Didn’t realize it was you.” She couldn’t look him in the eye, so she stepped outside and made a production of locking the door and putting her keys in her bag.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“I was on my way out.”

“Got that, too.” He moved aside to let her pass and followed her down the steps to the driveway. “Nice dress.”

“It’s old,” she shrugged. “I wore it to Stephanie’s wedding.”

“I remember. It still looks amazing on you.”

She knew she was being a bitch and he didn’t deserve that. “Thanks.” She risked a glance at his face. There was hurt in his eyes and anger tightened his jaw.

“So you hate me now.” It was a statement of fact.

“I don’t hate you,” she said to her shoes.

“So much for not bullshitting each other. I knew you weren’t editing all week.”

“Actually, I was.”

He toyed with a lock of her hair, fingers brushing her bare shoulder. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

“Because I’ve seen too much of you already.” She stepped out of reach. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Why the hell not?” Before Lisa could answer, one of the sleek European sports cars from the law firm parking lot pulled up. As Thomas emerged from the expensive convertible, Braden chuckled without humor and muttered, “Fucking classic.”

Thomas came around the car with a charming smile for Lisa. “You look beautiful,” he said, kissing the air near her ear.

Braden cleared his throat. “G’night, Ms. Taylor. I’ll be by tomorrow to mow the lawn.”

As he turned away, Thomas said, “Wait. You look familiar. Have we met?”

“I don’t believe so, sir,” Braden said with such excessive deference, Lisa half-expected him to touch his forelock.

“Thomas Porter, this is Braden Healey.” With her eyes, Lisa begged Braden to behave. “Braden’s an old family friend. He’s been helping out around here while my son’s at camp.”

“Yes!” Thomas shook Braden’s hand enthusiastically. “Of course, Brady Healey! Great to meet you. I’m a fan. You went to high school with my daughter and I followed your college career. Your injury was the shits.” Lisa winced at his failed attempt to seem cool.

“Yeah, it was, but thanks,” Braden said graciously. “Who’s your daughter?”

“Olivia Porter. She was a cheerleader and you had some classes together over the years.”

Lisa was sure Braden glanced at her with a mischievous glint in his eye before responding, “Olivia, yeah. Sweet girl. Pretty, too, if you won’t hit me for saying so.”

“Not at all,” Thomas laughed. “Hey, she’s home for the summer and she’s not dating anyone. You should give her a call.”

“Good idea.” Braden looked at Lisa, and she hoped he didn’t see her clenching her jaw.

Thomas suddenly remembered why he was there. “Guess we should get going or we’ll lose our reservation.” He opened the car door for Lisa and jogged around to slide behind the wheel. “Great to meet you, Brady.”

“You too, Mr. Porter.” As soon as Lisa had lowered herself into the deep seat and pulled her legs in, Braden pushed her door shut. She tugged her skirt down when she saw him eyeing the shadow between her thighs. Thomas revved the engine and Braden winked at her. “You kids have fun,” he grinned.

LISA COULDN’T HAVE known that the date she accepted to get her mind off Braden would consist mostly of conversation
about
Braden.

Thomas wasn’t kidding when he said he was a fan. Apparently, Braden had been the star of Thomas’s college fantasy football team for four years, until the shoulder injury. Sometime during dessert, the conversation turned to their kids. Thomas handed her his phone and she was treated to dozens of pictures of Olivia, with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and perky everything.

When they got back to her house, Thomas realized, “I’m sorry. I talked about football all night, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine. I didn’t mind.” Was he looking at her strangely? All evening, Lisa had been certain her face was an open book whenever Braden’s name was mentioned. An open
picture
book, depicting every sick thing she’d done or thought about doing. The paranoia had her delicious dinner sitting like lead in her belly.

“Okay. Good.” He walked her to the door. “I had a nice time tonight.”

“Yes, so did I,” she lied and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Thomas.” She unlocked the door and they stood in awkward silence while she pretended not to know he was hoping she would invite him in. It was only nine-thirty, but she mustered up a yawn and he got the hint.

When she was finally alone, she dropped the dress on her bedroom floor and turned the shower on scalding. She had to try to scrub off the guilt and self-loathing. The memory flashed of Braden staring at the shadow between her thighs as he closed the car door. Dozens of similar flashes followed and she felt the familiar quickening in her core.
What was wrong with her?
With purpose, she stepped under the painfully-hot water. She refused to relieve the needy ache. God, she was stupid! She had no business even thinking of Braden. Her head filled with images of Vance sneering, Elena yelling, and Jake looking angry and hurt.

By the time she felt clean again, her skin glowed pink from scrubbing. The hot shower had dehydrated her, so she wrapped herself in a thick towel, combed her wet hair down her back, and walked out in a cloud of steam.

The kitchen windows were black with night as she drank a glass of cold water. Hours later, she would wonder why she wasn’t startled when the motion-sensing back porch light came on. She intended to ignore Braden’s light knock, but he saw her through the sidelight window. His mouth was tight, his face was serious with intent, and his hair looked to have been repeatedly tousled by frustrated hands.

“Open the door, Lisa.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s late and I’m not dressed.”

“Open the door.”

“Whatever it is can wait ‘til tomorrow.”

“No, it can’t.” He held her eyes as he bent to retrieve the key from under the flower pot.

She backed away from the door. “Fine. Okay. Put the key back, I’ll be right out...”

But he had already let himself in.

She took another step back. “Listen, I’m sorry I let it go so far. It was wrong.”

He pushed the door closed and stalked toward her.

“It was
all
wrong,” she continued and backed up a few more steps. “I should’ve said no before. I’m saying it now.”

He kept moving closer, eyes dark with intent. “I’m not asking now.”

Lisa’s mouth went dry. Acutely aware of how close to naked she was, she held her towel in place with both hands and backed away until her ass hit the cabinet. She felt her heart pounding between her legs.

“Seriously, Braden. Get out or I’ll call the police.”

He pressed his phone into her hand. “You’ll need this, then.”

In the span of a heartbeat, he effortlessly lifted her onto the counter, pushed her knees apart and covered her pussy with his hot, beautiful mouth. The phone slid out of her hand and skittered down the counter, out of reach. She intended to push him away, but somehow her fingers tangled in his thick, sandy hair, pulling him closer instead. His hum of approval vibrated against her.

Her face heated with embarrassment when he sat back on his heels and took in the view. The rest of her heated with something else when he brushed the pad of his thumb across her swollen pink wetness. She tried to close her legs, but his big hands opened her wider. He leaned in and gave her a long, flat-tongued lick, then teased her with tiny feathery kisses, everywhere but where she needed him most.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He kissed her inner thigh. “Should I stop?”

“Yes, but please don’t,” she begged.

“It was rhetorical.” He bit the inside of her other thigh. “I’ve wanted you like this for too long to stop now,” he murmured at her center, warm breath taunting her sensitive skin. He swirled his tongue in her entrance, lapping at her wetness. Then he licked her smooth outer labia, one side then the other, holding her still so she couldn’t push herself into his mouth. Her cunt was so swollen, it felt inside-out.

Finally, his plush lips found her clit, nibbling lightly, coaxing it to a level of arousal she had never felt before. She thought she might happily die when he pressed it between his lips and gave her a soft sweep of his tongue. He surprised her with a gentle scrape of teeth, then sucked her hard little organ into his mouth and lashed it with his tongue until she shattered in technicolor shards.

“So damn sweet. I knew you would be.” He licked his lips and kissed her. She hesitated a moment; her scent was on his face, her taste on his tongue. And for the first time ever, she was good with that.

“More.” She deepened the kiss and let her hands roam over his soft t-shirt, exploring the hard muscle underneath. Her nails skimmed the tight points of his nipples, eliciting a groan from him. He scooped her off the counter and she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding her wet heat into him when she felt his erection.

Somehow Lisa’s towel was still in place when he set her on her feet in the bedroom. Thankful she’d left on a small lamp rather than the unforgiving ceiling light, she was about to open the towel when Braden stopped her. “Let me.”

He sat on the edge of the bed in front of her, holding her eyes as he tugged the towel open and let it fall. With an almost innocent reverence, he slid his hands up her ribcage and cupped her breasts. His hands were warm, calloused palms teasing her hardened peaks. Lisa fingered the worn leather braid around his wrist in an attempt to convince herself this was really happening.

Rasping his tongue across her left nipple, he whispered, “Finally,” and pulled it deep into his mouth, sucking hard. The breathtaking tug shot straight to her core. She felt herself bloom as his lips and tongue worked one nipple then the other.

“Braden... stop.”

He jerked away, stricken, lips rosy and wet from suckling her. She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it, revealing his lean, muscled stomach. With a relieved chuckle, he reached behind his head and yanked the shirt off.

“Christ, you had me worried there for a second.” He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her, hands exploring her curvy bottom.

Devouring his mouth, she savored his spicy taste and the brush of his bare chest against hers. She pressed him back on the bed, straddling his thighs. From a distance, his skin looked so smooth she had assumed he waxed his chest, but now she fingered the soft dusting of golden down.

With a fingertip, she traced the definition of his pectorals, along the deep ridges between his abs. In response, his fingers tightened their grip on her ass. He inhaled sharply when she licked and bit his nipples, groaned when she pressed wet, sucking kisses down his stomach. She dipped her tongue under the waistband of his jeans, and licked the tip of his cock as it strained to get out.

“You’re overdressed,” she admonished.

He slipped out from under her and seconds later stood fully nude and impossibly beautiful. Pulling her up, he grabbed her neck and kissed her deeply, his heavy erection hot against her belly.

Lisa bit his lips, breaking the kiss. She kissed the little white scar on his chin and nuzzled his neck, drunk on the fragrant cocktail of woodsy soap and aroused male. Planting moist kisses over the slope of his chest and down his ridged belly, she watched his eyes grow darker and more hooded the further south she traveled. As she sank to her knees, his cock bobbed toward her breasts. She wrapped one hand around his thick base and gently palmed his tight balls with the other. Never breaking eye contact, she ran her tongue up his length, curling it around his crown and licking a drop of pre-cum, before taking him fully into her mouth.

“Lisa.
Jesus
,” he bit out, fisting a hand in her hair.

She sucked him deep then released him slowly, inch by inch, covering his smooth velvet head with swirling licks before swallowing him again. Stroking the shaft in her hand, she was amazed how hard he was. She never knew a penis could
get
that hard.

Much as she loved having him in her mouth, she released him with a little wet
pop
panting, “In me.”

“Fuck. Yes.” He kissed her hard and retrieved a condom from his discarded pants.

Lisa sat back against the pillows and watched him sheath himself. He crawled up the bed, pausing along the way to push her thighs open, suckle her clit, and fuck her with his tongue. When they were face to face again, he licked at her mouth and teased her slick entrance with his cock. She bucked her hips in a desperate attempt to capture him.

“Now. Please, now.”

“
Yes
.” He slammed in to the hilt, stretching her. Their mouths fused in a ravenous kiss while he pulled out slowly... achingly slowly. Her pussy tightened around him. He squeezed her swollen breasts, catching their tight tips between his fingers, then rammed home again.

“God!” It seemed impossible, but Lisa would’ve sworn he was even harder than moments before. She raked her nails down his back and dug them into his tight, round ass as he withdrew once more. He bit and sucked the sensitive juncture of her neck and shoulder, then flexed his hips and nailed her.
Hard
. Her walls quivered around him. She’d never had an orgasm during intercourse before, but that was about to change -- he was hitting places deep inside her no one else had ever touched.

Braden made a sound of pleasure deep in his throat. “If I’d had any idea ten years ago that you’d feel this good, I would’ve jacked off even more.”

Her breathless chuckle became a gasp when he slipped a hand between them and captured her clit in a firm pinch. She heard herself shout as she climaxed, and her pussy sucked him in, milking him, until he pulsed with his own forceful release.

Lisa blinked back to earth, only vaguely aware when Braden briefly rolled away to dispose of the condom. He pulled her back against his chest and kissed her shoulder, holding her close while their breathing returned to normal.

The voices in her head clamored for their turn at the mike. All concerns about Vance and Elena got an immediate boot, because fuck them. She reasoned with the “What about Jake” minstrel, pointing out that her son was fifteen, and her sex life was simply none of his business. That left her to contend with the “Yo Chubby” chanters and the “Really, Cougar, Could You Be Any More Cliche?” harpies. And they were some tenacious bitches.

She felt the dread creep in. Any thought of moving on with life from right this minute was fraught with embarrassment.

Should I say something?

How does my stomach look at this angle? Can I sneak away to grab a bathrobe?

He’s really quiet.

What if he falls asleep? Should I let him stay?

This was just a one-time thing, right? What if he wants more than that?

What if he doesn’t?

Before her thought spiral could get totally out of control, she felt an unmistakable nudge at her behind. Incredulous, she blurted, “You’re still hard?”

“Not ‘still,’ but I’m hard again, yeah.” There was a lazy smile in his voice.

She felt him flex against her. “My god.”

“You did this to me.”

Rolling over, she eyed his impressive hard-on. “You’re twenty-three. A good sneeze would do that to you.”

“I’ll cop to a decent recovery time,” he grinned, trailing a fingertip across the tops of her breasts. “But no one else has ever made me so hard I could break a fucking cinderblock with my dick.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she chuckled, stroking him.

“Hey.” He stilled her hand and waited for her to meet his eyes. When she did, he was scowling. “That wasn’t flattery. It was honesty.”

“Oh.” It didn’t compute. None of it.

“I swear, somehow, I’m gonna make you see yourself the way I see you.” He licked and bit one nipple, then the other. “But first, I’m gonna make you scream again.”