Chapter 20 Cece
CECE
My phone vibrates against the nightstand, dragging me out of the deepest sleep I've had in years. The room is still dark, morning only a faint suggestion beyond the curtains. I groan and fumble for my phone, trying not to wake Brayden.
The screen blazes to life, momentarily blinding me. Multiple texts from Maya.
HELLO? Are you alive?
Cece, it's been two weeks. TWO WEEKS.
If you don't answer in the next hour, I'm calling the police to report you missing. Not kidding.
Or your dad. Which would be worse?
I smile despite the early hour. Maya has always had a flair for the dramatic that makes even my recent life choices seem tame by comparison.
I shift carefully, propping myself up on one elbow to type a response, when Brayden's arm tightens around my waist, pulling me back against the solid warmth of his chest. He mumbles something incoherent into my hair, still deep in sleep.
I pause, struck by the sight of him. His lashes rest against his cheeks, his breathing slow and even. The tattoo on his shoulder peeks out from beneath the sheet, the raven's wing stretching toward his collarbone.
Before doubt can catch up to me, I switch to the camera and take a quiet photo. Brayden asleep in our bed. The image feels stolen, a tiny piece of peace that belongs only to us. I turn back to Maya's texts, typing quietly.
Not dead. Just busy. Small town, big drama. Will call you soon.
I hit send and set the phone back down. His eyes flutter open, those steel-gray irises finding mine immediately. Even half-asleep, his gaze is intense enough to make my breath catch.
“Morning,” I whisper.
“Who's texting you at—” he squints at the clock “—five-thirty in the fucking morning?”
“Just Maya. My best friend from Boulder. She thinks I've been kidnapped or something.”
He grunts, pulling me closer until my back is flush against his chest, his morning hardness pressing against me in a way that sends a delicious shiver down my spine. “Tell her you have been. Stockholm syndrome's kicking in nicely.”
I laugh softly, turning in his arms to face him. “Is that what this is?”
His hand slides down my back, cupping my ass and pulling me tighter against him. “Call it whatever you want, princess. Just don't leave this bed yet.”
“Are you holding me hostage?”
He smirks, pretending to consider the question. “Can you be a hostage if you came to this bed willingly?”
“I prefer the term willing captive,” I say, running my fingers along his stubbled jaw.
His smile is slow and devious as he rolls me onto my back in one fluid motion. He settles between my thighs, deliciously heavy as he braces himself on his forearms.
“Willing, huh?” His voice is rough with sleep, a hint of teasing slipping in. “And how willing would that be?”
I press against him, enjoying the small hiss of breath he takes when I press against his hardness. “Very.”
He lowers his head, lips hovering just above mine. “Show me.”
I slide my hands up his arms, feeling the corded muscles tense beneath my touch. Just as I'm about to pull him down to me, my phone vibrates again, the buzz against the nightstand impossibly loud in the quiet room.
Brayden groans, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. “Your friend has shit timing.”
I reach over, fumbling for my phone without dislodging him. Three more texts from Maya.
Busy? BUSY? That's what you're giving me after two weeks of radio silence?
What kind of drama? The good kind or the 'I'm hiding a body' kind?
And WHO are you busy WITH? Details. NOW.
“She's persistent,” I mutter, dropping the phone back onto the nightstand. “She's not going to stop until I call her.”
Brayden makes a low, growling sound in the back of his throat. “Tell her you'll call later.” His mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing lightly over my pulse point in a way that makes coherent thought nearly impossible.
“She'll just keep texting,” I manage to say, tilting my head to give him better access. “Maya doesn't understand the concept of boundaries.”
“Turn it off,” he suggests, his hand sliding up my bare thigh.
The phone buzzes again, more insistent than before.
I sigh, pushing gently at his chest. “Five minutes. Just give me five minutes to call her and then I'm all yours.”
He pulls back just enough to look down at me. “Three minutes.”
“Five,” I counter, trying not to smile at his impatience.
“Four,” he offers, dipping his head to nip at my earlobe. “And I get to touch you while you talk.”
A shiver runs through me at the thought. “That's not fair.”
“Never claimed to play fair, princess.” His hand inches higher on my thigh, teasing. “Clock's ticking.”
I grab the phone before I can change my mind, quickly hitting Maya's contact. She answers on the first ring.
“Holy shit, you are alive! I was this close to filing a missing persons report.”
“I'm fine,” I tell her, trying to ignore Brayden’s hand as it inches higher on my thigh. “I just got caught up with...things,” I say, biting my lip as Brayden's hand slides even higher, his fingers now tracing the edge of my underwear.
“What kind of things? Or should I say who?” Maya’s tone turns sly. “You’re breathing weird. Do you have someone there with you right now?”
I try to shoot Brayden a warning look, but he just smirks as his fingers slip beneath the fabric. I barely stifle a gasp.
“I, um—yes, I’m not alone,” I manage, the words strained as his thumb circles dangerously close to where I’m already embarrassingly wet. “Can I call you back later?”
“Oh my God!” Maya shrieks, loud enough that I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Cecelia Marie Montgomery. Who is with you?”
Brayden's eyebrow arches, clearly able to hear her through the phone. His fingers pause their torment, but the knowing smile on his face tells me I'm not off the hook yet.
“A friend,” I answer. Brayden must take offense to that label because he goes from slow torture to fully cupping me in a split second. The sudden change makes me gasp.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” I lie.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing. He can hear me, right?.” Brayden slips a finger inside of me, and the answer I want to say disappears.
“I’ll take that as a yes…hey, guy who is distracting my best friend,” Maya calls out. “Thank you for finally getting my best friend laid! It was long overdue!”
“Maya!” I hiss, mortification washing over me.
Brayden laughs. “You’re welcome.”
“Oh shit. Girl…that voice. No wonder you fell into bed with him. Say something else.”
“Maybe another time, I really need to, um, go. Can I call you back later?”
“Definitely call me back,” Maya chirps. “With details. Lots and lots of details. I want to know everything about Mr. Sexy Voice.”
I stare at the ceiling, torn between laughing and dying from embarrassment. “Goodbye, Maya,” I say firmly, and end the call before she can protest further.
I drop the phone onto the nightstand and cover my face with my hands. “I'm so sorry about that.”
Brayden's fingers are still teasing me, making it hard to concentrate. “I like her already,” he murmurs, his mouth finding my neck again. “Anyone who wants you to get laid is good in my book.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, but it turns into something else entirely when he slides another finger inside me. “That's...not fair.”
“I warned you,” he reminds me, his breath hot against my skin. “Four minutes. And you went over.”
My hips rise to meet his touch of their own accord. “You're terrible.”
“That's not what your body is saying,” he whispers, his thumb circling my clit in a way that makes my toes curl. “It's saying I'm pretty fucking fantastic.”
I can't argue with that. My body is already wound tight, every nerve ending singing under his expert touch. The embarrassment of Maya's call fades, replaced by the burning need he always manages to ignite in me.
“Brayden,” I gasp.
His name slips out of me, a prayer shaped by need and devotion. I reach for more words, but they dissolve as his fingers work their magic, drawing me closer to the edge with each deliberate stroke.
“You like that?” he asks.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Don't stop.”
His mouth finds mine, swallowing my gasp as he increases the pace of his fingers. I clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into skin, anchoring myself as pleasure builds inside me. The room fills with the sound of my ragged breathing and his occasional murmurs of encouragement.
“That's it,” he whispers against my lips. “Let go for me, princess.”
The heat coils tighter, a spring wound to breaking point. When he curls his fingers just so, hitting that perfect spot inside me while his thumb circles my clit, I shatter. My release crashes through me, my body shivering under his touch as his name slips from my lips again.
Before I can catch my breath, he's shifting above me, settling between my thighs. The blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance, teasing but not entering.
“Please,” I whimper, desperate for him to fill me completely. I'm still sensitive from my orgasm, but I need him inside me, need to feel that perfect stretch and fullness that only he can give me.
He watches me with those stormy eyes, his jaw clenched with restraint. “Say my name again.”
“Brayden,” I breathe, lifting my hips to try to take him in.
“Again,” he growls, pushing just the tip inside me, enough to make me gasp but not enough to satisfy.
“Brayden, please,” I moan, my hands sliding down to grip his hips, trying to pull him deeper.
With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside me to the hilt. I cry out as he stretches me. He stills for a moment, letting me adjust to his size.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he murmurs, beginning to move in slow, deep strokes that make my toes curl. “You’re so fucking wet, princess. You’re dripping for my cock.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper with each thrust. His pace increases, the drag of him against my oversensitive flesh. I'm already climbing toward another peak.
“Brayden,” I gasp. “Oh god, Brayden.”
“When you pray, princess, you pray to me. Not to God. Not to the devil. Me.”