“All right,” I say. “What else do you want?”
She answers 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.”
I stay quiet for a few seconds, as if I have to think it over. Truth? I don’t have to think at all.
“Done.”
I close my eyes then, as thoughts explode through me.
How is this happening?
How have I fallen so far from who I thought I was?
I don’t mind being exclusive, but never have I made such a promise to a woman.
I picture seven-year-old Skye racing through a cornfield, frightened and lost, her little heart beating against her chest.
I picture present Skye shooting photos of Addison Ames drinking coffee—paying her dues and using any opportunity to get her name known as a photographer.
I picture older Skye, still beautiful, standing in my bedroom, naked and waiting…
Fuck. It. All.
I feign sleep as Skye touches my now-flaccid dick. Her touch scorches me, and already my cock wants to respond.
Then she kisses my shoulder.
“You are my Everest, Braden,” she whispers. “I will figure you out.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I rise the next morning without waking Skye and spend more time than I have staring at her sleeping body—the warm flush covering her chest and breasts, the soft sleeping smile on her beautiful lips.
I could wake her.
Fuck her.
Pull more climaxes out of her.
But I have work to do, and a new reality hits me. I want Skye more than I want to work.
Willpower, Braden. Willpower.
This is all new to me. I can’t recall the last time I spent the night at a woman’s place. I’m feeling an odd combination of regret and happiness.
And the regret part is pretty small.
If I didn’t have an early meeting…
Oh, for God’s sake. I pad into her small bathroom and turn on the shower. The water pressure is weak, but I squeeze some shampoo—raspberry-scented and oddly refreshing—into my palms and wash my hair. Then I squeeze shower gel—also raspberry, no wonder she always smells like raspberries—into her loofah and scrub myself clean. I don’t have my toothbrush, but I swish some of Skye’s mouthwash around. I’ll brush my teeth when I get home.
I dry off, dress in yesterday’s clothes, and walk back to the bed.
I grab my phone as I kiss Skye gently on her forehead.
She opens her eyes. “You took a shower?”
“Yeah. I’ve never used raspberry shampoo before. I like the fruity smell.” I give her a half smile.
She giggles and then parts her lips and inhales, smelling my wet hair.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” I continue. “You were out.”
A yawn splits her face. “I can’t believe I didn’t wake up.”
“I can.”
“You can? Why?”
“Multiple orgasms will do that to you.” I stare at my phone.
“What time is it?”
“Seven.”
“Oh, good. I have plenty of time to get to work.”
Shit. An email from the office in New York. They need me to sign a document today and attend meetings the rest of the week—among them a meeting with McCain Global regarding some property we’ve been trying to purchase for years. A busy several days and then the benefit for the Boston Opera Guild on Saturday. I’m a major donor. “Looks like I have to go to New York for a few days.”
“Oh,” she says. “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.”
She nods. “Sure. Okay.”
I kiss her lips softly. “Wear the black dress.”
…
Two hours later, still wearing yesterday’s suit, I arrive at LaGuardia on my jet. I don’t have any luggage, as I keep everything I need at my Manhattan penthouse. After a quick change into fresh clothes and a much-needed tooth brushing, I arrive at the office.
Another two hours later, all the documents are signed, and I’m at lunch with Dimitri Stamos, who heads the company satellite in Manhattan, telling him to take the meetings for the rest of the week.
He drops his jaw. “Who are you, and what have you done with Braden Black?”
I understand his confusion. I’ve always been the face of Black, Inc., and in the rare event that I can’t make an important meeting, I send Ben.
Dimitri is a capable man, though, and he’s told me on more than one occasion that he’s available to ease my workload.
“You’ve been wanting to do more, Dimitri. Here’s your opportunity.”
“Well…yeah, but this isn’t like you. At all.”
He’s right. Still, I don’t owe him an explanation, so if he’s waiting for one, he’ll be waiting a long time.
“Suffice it to say I have confidence in you to take the meetings and do what needs to be done.”
“I’m up for it. The only issue I see is the meeting with Foster McCain of McCain Global. It’s taken a while to even get him to talk to us.”
“You know as much about the business as I do,” I say. “If you have any issues, I’ll be available by phone as always.”
Dimitri’s brown eyes widen further. “You mean you’re not going to call in and attend via phone?”
“Not this time,” I say, taking a sip of water. “You can call me if necessary, but this is what you’ve been asking for, Dimitri. You’ve more than proved your competence over the last five years. I trust you. Implicitly.”
Though I keep my expression stoic, I’m surprising myself as well as Dimitri. Ben has been after me for years not to micromanage so much. We hire only the best people, have an ironclad nondisclosure agreement, and in the last ten years, we’ve never had an employee screw us over.
That’s why I’m doing this.
It’s not because I can’t stand being away from Skye until Saturday.
Fuck. What a damned lie!
For a man who values control, I’m losing it where Skye Manning is concerned.