Chapter Thirty-Seven
If Peter Reardon and Garrett Ramirez thought they had a shot in hell at getting that architectural contract with my company, they were sorely mistaken. I excuse myself to make a call.
“Reardon and Company,” a voice says into my ear.
“Braden Black for Beau Reardon,” I say.
“Oh! Mr. Black. Yes. I know Mr. Reardon will be pleased that you’re calling. One moment, please.”
Pleased that I’m calling?
Yeah, I doubt that.
“Black,” Reardon says into the phone. “How’s the golf game?”
“I don’t play golf, Reardon. You know that.”
He laughs. “Yes, of course. What can I do for you?”
“You can call off that derelict son of yours and his pal Ramirez. I know what’s going on at your firm, and it’s going to stop.”
A slight pause. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. I’ve heard the rumors, Beau. It may interest you to know that there’s a young lady in the hospital who was poisoned by Garrett Ramirez. Poisoned and probably raped.”
“I assure you that—”
“Save it.” I scoff. “I’ve known how you get your lucrative contracts for some time. I chose to look the other way. But now you’re hurting women, you motherfucker. I’m bringing you down.”
“I’ll say it again. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Silence then.
The call dropped.
Or he hung up. Probably the latter.
Doesn’t matter. I’ll find the proof I need.
And in the meantime…
Those degenerates are going to be punished.
…
Skye doesn’t talk much on the way back to my place.
But once the elevator door closes—
“What did you mean back there when you said you’ve looked the other way far too long?”
I sigh. “Remember when I showed up at the MADD gala, and Peter Reardon stayed away from you after that?”
“How could I forget?”
“I didn’t want you with him because I wanted you, but that wasn’t the only reason.”
“Oh?”
“I’d already decided his father’s firm wasn’t going to get my contract, even though their bid came in the lowest.”
“Are they not good architects?”
“They’re excellent architects, actually. I just don’t like the way they do business.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“They’re not the most ethical people, and it begins at the top with Peter’s father, Beau Reardon.”
“Braden, Betsy is dating Peter now. And they got cuddly awfully quickly. You don’t think…?”
“It’s possible. I hear things in my circles that don’t become common knowledge. Beau Reardon sometimes uses unconventional methods to get what he wants.”
I can’t tell her more. Not without verifiable evidence, which I never had the need to obtain.
Until now, that is.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say succinctly.
“How?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well…yeah. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”
“I won’t get into any trouble. Don’t worry. But the Reardons and Garrett will wish they’d never crossed a friend of mine when I’m done with them. Now, let’s get you that warm bath I promised you.”
I lead Skye back to my bedroom. “Relax and undress. I’ll run that bath.”
I go into my bathroom and turn on the faucets to my jetted tub. When the water is at the right temperature—not too hot, but more than lukewarm—I plug the drain and add some lavender essential oil to the water as the tub fills and steam rises. I turn the jets onto low so they give the water the gentlest of swirls.
“Come in now,” I say to Skye.
She walks into the steamy bathroom, her nipples hard and her skin flushed.
I undress and help her into the tub. Then I enter and pull her against my chest.
She lets out a relaxed sigh.
Good. She needs this. Not just because of her worry for Tessa, but her body needs this soothing. Anal sex—especially the first time—takes its toll on the body. The fragrant water will help ease her soreness.
I move my hand slowly up and down her arm, just the whisper of a touch.
We bathe for about twenty minutes. When the water begins to cool, I kiss her neck. “Lean forward, baby.”
I step out of the tub, wrap a towel around my waist, and then grab another from the warmer and hold it out for Skye.
She steps out, looking beautiful with the water drops meandering over her wet body.
My cock reacts, but I’ll hold myself in check tonight.
Skye’s body needs a rest.
And her mind needs a rest as well.
I’ll hold her in my arms as she falls into slumber. I’ll massage her, soothe her, whisper to her that Tess is all right. That this isn’t her fault.
Because it’s not.
And because I love her.
…
Skye doesn’t budge when my phone alarm blares at five a.m.
I turn it off quickly, lean over to kiss her cheek, and scramble out of bed before I let myself turn her to her side and slide into her from behind.
God, it’s tempting.
I’m hard with morning wood and horny as hell for the naked woman in my bed.
But she needs sleep.
I don’t want to disturb her.
I also don’t want to leave her alone, so I don’t leave the penthouse. I do a quick workout in my mini gym, complete with a cold plunge, and then I shower, eat a quick breakfast, and head to my home office to do some work.
Yeah, people do actually work on Sundays, though I doubt Garrett Ramirez does.
I suck down two cups of coffee before I switch to water.
I’m knee deep in emails and a new contract when—
“Braden?”
I check my watch.
One p.m. Good. Skye needed the sleep.
“In the office,” I call out to her.
I’m staring at my laptop screen when she enters.
“Hey,” she says.
“Good morning. Or should I say good afternoon?” I finally look up and suck in a breath. She’s wearing the button-down I wore last night. “You look fucking sexy in my shirt.”
She smiles.
“What are you working on?”
“Nothing that can’t wait. Come here.” I move my hand downward and pull my hard dick out of my lounge pants. Her ass may be still be sore, but that pussy is up for grabs.
And I’m grabbing.
She parts her lips.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” I say. “Climb on, Skye.”
She’s wet already. I can smell her—that intoxicating scent of tangy citrus, erotic musk, and simply Skye.
She climbs onto my lap and straddles me, slowly easing down onto my erection.
“God…” she groans.
I return her groan as we sit immobile for a few seconds, relishing the feeling of her warmth.
“Fuck.” I inhale. “I can’t get enough of you. Never enough.”
I take charge then, and grip her hips, lifting her until my cock head is only teasing her pussy lips. I hold her there for a minute, her nipples abrading the cotton of my shirt. She struggles against my strength, trying to sink back down, and I finally push her back down onto my hardness.
It’s quick. It’s lusty. It’s not romantic at all, but I don’t care. It’s us.
Simply us.
I grasp her harder and harder. “Braden! I’m going to come. God!”
“Do it, baby. Do it. Come.”
With my words, she shatters, never taking her eyes off mine.
I look at her with wonder.
With awe.
With lust.
With love.
“I love you,” she says between breaths. “I love you so much.”
I jam her down hard onto my cock, and as her climax continues, I feel every spurt of mine.
Every last one.
She lays her head on my shoulder, still panting. I did all the work—though it was no hardship—but still her breath comes in sharp rasps. The climax. It took her breath away.
It did the same for me.
She smiles against my shoulder. This is not the norm for us. Every lovemaking session is usually a huge deal. Either I’ve thought it out ahead of time, or I come up with it spur of the moment. Either way, it lasts way longer than the few minutes of this one.
I didn’t bind her. I didn’t demand that she focus on only one sense. I didn’t silence her.
Even so, she didn’t speak, except to tell me she was coming and that she loved me. She didn’t move, so she may as well have been bound. We’ve come to a new understanding, Skye and I.
And I’m all in.
“Skye,” I say into her hair.
“Hmm?”
“Have you checked on Tessa?”
“Yeah. She’s being released today. Her mom is moving in with her for a while to take care of her.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“Sure. Carlotta’s great.”
“I mean”—I push a stray strand of hair out of her eyes—“do you need to be here for her?”
“No. I’ll only get in Carlotta’s way. Tess and I talked. She wants some time with her mom.”
“All right, then.”
She closes her eyes. “All right what?”
“We’re going back to New York. Tonight.”