Chapter 11
Audrey Tripp
The promises shining from Brennan’s light blue eyes clog my throat, but I clear it and pull my hand away from his.
“I’ll freshen up first and then grab coffee like normal. We should act as though nothing happened and see if the culprit gives themselves away,” I say.
He grabs my wrist and pulls me forward until his inner thighs bracket my knees. My heart tries to gallop out of my chest as he wraps his long, thick fingers around my waist. His fingertips nearly touch. Lust and horror pierce through me at the reminder of how big he is.
“You’re still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Won’t she be suspicious?” he asks as he flexes his digits into my midsection.
His thumbs tease my belt buckle.
I clear my throat again and shake my head.
“I don’t have an extensive wardrobe and often pair the same top with a different skirt or pants the next day, so I doubt she’ll notice.”
He slips his hands lower and squeezes my hips. My pulse pounds between my legs.
“What if it isn’t Ms. Baker, but a man? There isn’t a single swinging dick in this building that won’t notice you’re wearing the same outfit,” he murmurs.
I scoff and push at his shoulders.
“Men don’t pay attention to clothes,” I sneer.
“They do when a body like yours is filling them out.”
The low rumble of his voice soothes my nerves. Even though he was never in danger of losing his life, fear gripped me all night long. Carlos offered to stay with Brennan so I could go home and grab an overnight bag, but I couldn’t force myself to leave.
Not that Brennan needs to know. His ego is big enough already.
I roll my eyes and shove his shoulder. Guilt flits through me as he winces, but his smirk assures me he isn’t hurt.
He’s goading me. Again.
It works. My annoyance outgrows my worry.
“No one is looking at my skinny ass. Quit being obnoxious.”
“I’m looking.”
His unapologetic answer fills me with exasperation. I push away from him and growl when he doesn’t release my hips.
“You’re the worst,” I snarl.
He lifts a brow and offers me a half-lidded smirk. Liquid warmth pulses low in my abdomen.
After hours of embodying a frozen tundra from the inside out, it burns in the best way.
He pulls me further from the dark pit of despair my ex-stepfather tore open with his touch.
I thought I’d healed over the years, but one horrible moment with the man of my nightmares and I was thrust into reliving the worst night of my life.
“Why didn’t you get yourself a change of clothes, Audrey?” Brennan asks.
His low, gravelly voice bubbles in my core. I shake my head and shrug.
“I didn’t need to. I’m fine,” I say.
He sighs and tugs me closer again.
“You come first, love. Next time—”
“There had better not be a next time,” I snap.
Surprise widens his eyes before he smiles in delight.
“You’re worried about me,” he says.
I shove his hands off my hips and stomp toward the bathroom.
“Of course I am. You’re my boss.”
“I’m more than your boss. Admit it,” he demands.
I stop in the doorway and look over my shoulder at him. With an incredulous lift of my brow, I convey that he is, in fact, more than my boss, but only in ways with negative connotations.
He rises from the couch and crosses the room before I can close the door between us. An embarrassing squeak escapes my lips as he crowds me against the sink with his bulk.
With the hard, muscular planes of his chest visible through his thin white shirt and not a tie or button in sight, I don’t have to fight through nightmares despite a man’s nearness for the first time in my adult life.
Even though I’m comfortable around Liam and Carlos, I still usually see them in either a suit or Carlos in his guard’s uniform.
Brennan is the only man I want this close to me. The hunger in his eyes thrums through me.
He places a hand on the countertop on either side of me and leans so close his breath warms my lips.
I want his kiss.
“Who am I, Audrey?” he whispers.
I swallow before my heart escapes and flatten my hands over his chest. His very hard, warm chest.
“Brennan, stop.”
“Tell me who I am to you and I’ll go back to the couch alone. Keep ignoring me, and I’ll take you with me,” he murmurs.
I lick my dry lips and nearly melt into a puddle when he groans. The stubble on his face contrasts with his smooth skin. My fingers itch to explore the different textures, but I dig my nails into his chest and lean away.
“You’re Brennan Diamond, my unforgiving boss, overbearing ex-stepbrother, the only man I’ve kissed, and the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. Happy now?”
Despite my best efforts to sound flippant, my low, throaty voice gives away my desire.
His smirk smolders my insides.
“Very, very happy.” He drops his gaze to my lips. “So happy only one thing could make me happier.” He leans closer. “Promise me I’ll be the last man you ever kiss, and I’ll be the happiest man on earth.”
I bite back a whimper as the urge to press my lips to his spears through me.
“We aren’t at that stage yet,” I challenge.
He growls and shifts impossibly closer.
“But we are, baby doll. I will only ever want you, and like you’ve said, I’m an unforgiving, overbearing asshole. I’ll never let another man touch you, so make your promise before I turn into a monster,” he murmurs.
Despite the sexual tension roaring between us, he holds himself back.
His restraint gives me the courage to rise onto my toes and press my mouth to his. I explore his lips with mine until her groans and parts his teeth.
When he doesn’t take over, I deepen the kiss and stroke my tongue over his.
No one else has ever shown such patience. His control is both maddening and impressive.
With the same slow, coaxing rhythm he taught me during our first kiss, I lure his tongue into my mouth and gently close my teeth around it. His stubble scratches my cheeks and chin while his smooth lips provide a stark counter sensation.
I pull my head back, lightly scraping his tongue with my teeth until it slides free.
“I don’t want to do this with anyone else,” I whisper against his lips.
He drops his forehead to mine and heaves. When I realize his entire body shakes, worry douses the fire in my blood.
He just spent the night passed out on a couch in his office because someone drugged his food. Maybe I pushed him too far.
“You’re too fucking perfect, baby doll. Don’t move. I need a minute,” he snarls.
“I’m sorry, I went too far. I can help you back to the couch.”
“Don’t apologize for almost finishing what I shouldn’t have started. Just be still before I disgrace myself.”
What in the fresh macho man hell is he spouting? If he’s dizzy and at risk of falling, he definitely needs help back to the couch.
“Disgrace yourself?” I ask.
“I’m half a heartbeat away from cumming in my pants. Stop brushing your breasts against me before I lose it,” he growls.
I close my mouth and curl my hands into fists on his chest as heat floods my face. The hard glint in his eyes as he smirks eases my angst even as my pulse pounds between my legs.
A few extended heartbeats later, he rises to his full height, trails a fingertip down the side of my face, and gives me a chaste peck on the forehead before limping out of the bathroom. Amusement and pride filter through my stupor as he adjusts himself mid stride.
Part of me can’t believe I aroused such a massive, powerful man while the other scolds me for letting him walk away. Even though I know I’m not ready for more—especially not so soon after our run-in with Donald—I can’t deny my natural attraction to him anymore.
I shut the bathroom door, strip off my shirt, wash my face in the sink, dry with paper towels, and apply makeup before donning my shirt, applying deodorant, and spritzing body spray.
With the mini hairbrush I keep in my tote bag—which I stashed behind the bathroom door early in the night—and water from the sink, I detangle my hair and pull it into a high ponytail before smearing mousse between my hands and crimping the ends into loose, bouncy curls.
Hopefully the change in hairstyle is enough to throw anyone off the fact I’m wearing the same outfit.
After closing the toilet lid, I change into the spare panties and tights—which are a darker shade than yesterday’s— from my tote and tidy up before exiting into the CEO’s office.
Brennan lounges on the couch with his arm slung over his face.
“Are you okay? Do you have a headache?” I ask.
“It’s not my head that’s aching. Put on your jacket and shoes and go get the coffee, love.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“If I see you walking around with your hair up and your throat exposed, your feet in nothing but stockings, and your perfect ass in that tight skirt, I will not be. Go before I give in to temptation,” he growls.
I grab my tote, shoes, and jacket, and rush across the room. With one hand on the door handle, I call over my shoulder, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”
I close the door behind me, blocking out his low cursing, and pause by my old desk to finish dressing before heading down the hall.
After stepping into the elevator and selecting the lobby, I check my reflection in the doors and prepare to face the chaos of New York City foot traffic on a weekday morning.
With over half an hour before the early risers start trickling into the building, the security guards are off doing their rounds when I step off the elevator, so I take long strides and clear the lobby as quickly as possible.
I greet the barista, buy the coffee, and wait at the crosswalk. As soon as the light turns green, I hurry across like normal, but it doesn’t turn yellow until I step onto the curb.
Mr. Collins stands by the security checkpoint in front of the elevators when I enter the building.
“Good morning, Ms. Tripp. Can I help you with your ID badge?” he offers.
“No thanks, Mr. Collins, I’ve got it, but you can take yours and Mr. Lopez’s drinks,” I respond.
“Some things really don’t change, do they? I gotta admit, I thought I was seeing things the other day when the boss was carrying all your stuff.”
“Don’t worry, it was a one-off situation. It won’t happen again,” I say.
“I’ll take that bet,” Carlos says from the far side of the elevators.
I roll my eyes, scan my ID, and step through the gates.
“Gambling is illegal,” I say.
Mr. Collins laughs and says, “Yeah, well, it’s illegal for a man to give another man a piggyback ride where I’m from, but you best believe if my buddy and I got bored, I’d jump right on, so… I bet Ms. Tripp wins the bag wars.”
I sigh and press the button for the elevator. Without another word, I step into the box and shuffle to the back as Carlos joins me.
“I’m heading up to finish my rounds. Be right back, Collins,” he says.
As soon as the doors close, he asks, “How is he?”
I shrug as much as my loaded arm will allow.
“He’s bouncing back like the physician said he would.”
“That’s great. How’re you?”
“What do you mean? I’m fine. I’ve slept in the office before, so—”
“That’s not what I meant. You masked well yesterday, but you were not okay. What happened?” he asks.
I’ve never explained my trauma to Carlos, but I didn’t need to. He knew enough from my reactions. In fact, his quiet support without prying is how we became friends.
He draws his brows together, and by the fury billowing in his eyes, I realize my lack of words lead him to believe the worst.
“Did Mr. Diamond—”
“No,” I interrupt.
He relaxes his stance.
“I didn’t think so after your reaction last night, but I had to ask.”
I swallow, nod, and force myself to speak.
“He was never the one who… he helped me yesterday. I trust him.”
The memory of Donald’s blood on the ornate wallpaper and carpet flashes through my mind. Brennan saved me. I wouldn’t have escaped without him.
I clear my throat but can’t force more words from my mouth. Carlos nods and steps off the elevator.
“That’s all I need to know. Don’t forget, I’m always a call or text away if you need anything. Tell the boss the guys and I are looking forward to lunch with him today.”
The doors close. I shift my grip on the drink carriers and wonder how my overbearing big brother and CEO bosshole snuck past my gay friend’s defenses.
Men really are simple creatures, aren’t they? A few minutes of punching each other and suddenly they’re best buddies.
I sigh and roll my neck but my entire body aches from sleeping in a chair. After yesterday’s panic attacks and disassociating episodes, I fear my bones may snap from brittleness while my muscles burn from a build-up of lactic acid.
Although queasiness plagues my stomach, the overwhelming sense of dread I normally suffer during a setback doesn’t hold me hostage.
Usually it takes me weeks, sometimes months, to recover when my nightmares overtake me.
Brennan pulled me out of my mental spiral, cleared the clouds of depression, and allayed my fears.
He’ll help me protect my mom.
Bit by bit, he slowly chips away at my defenses. Less than four days ago, I hated him with everything fiber of my being. Now I don’t know what I’d do without him.
I’m doomed, but I don’t want to change my fate. I’ll be his eventually.
He’s already mine, though.
No one else will jeopardize his safety or future ever again.
Brennan Diamond is mine.
Only mine.