5. Braxton
5
Braxton
A fucking virgin. The best sex of my life, the most powerful orgasms the world has ever created and I’m the only man who’s been there. Who’s had her intimately. Even now, days later, my mind is reeling that Sabrina was untouched until me. That I claimed her and made her mine all night long. Every hour through that dream of a night, I had her. On her knees. On all fours. Legs splayed wide. Face down with her ass in the air.
“Fuck this,” I growl as I stare at the black laptop screen. I can’t stop thinking about Sabrina and how she managed to slip from my bed and my suite before I woke up the next morning.
It’s for the best, that’s what I keep telling myself but my thoughts keep wandering back to her. I shouldn’t think about her at all and I try to shut those thoughts out when the pop up, but I can’t. Even knowing that being with her, having her, would only put her in danger, I still want her.
Give it two days, I tell myself.
On day two, I push it to three days.
Day three? Five days.
On day six, I say fuck it and I track my little Sweeting down.
I’m a busy man so I have Rocco track her down and shortly after lunch he comes to me with everything he can find on Sabrina Sweeting. Her class schedule, her home address and her living situation—2 roommates—and most of all, her work address and schedule. “Thanks, Rocco.”
“I’m gonna ask you again, Brax. Are you sure you want to do this? There’s a reason you haven’t dated anyone for real in more than five years.” Rocco is more than my best friend, he’s the angel on my fucking shoulder.
“I’ve tried to forget about her but I can’t. It’s a fucking distraction I can’t have right now. I’ll make her mine and keep her safe. That’s the only way.” I know I sound crazy and desperate without looking at the worried expression on Rocco’s face. “I haven’t done shit all day because I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Rocco’s lips twitch in amusement.
“Don’t even fucking think about it.”
His smile grows even as he lifts his hands in a defensive gesture. “I didn’t say a damn thing. I’ll go get her.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll do this myself. You drive.”
“This is gonna be fun,” Rocco laughs. “Or a fucking disaster. Either way, I got your back.”
That’s exactly what I want to hear. “What the fuck is casual fine dining,” I grumble from the car in front of the diner where the file says Sabrina is a line cook.
Rocco laughs. “Just means good food without all the pretentious bullshit.”
Sounds about right.
“You gonna go in?” Rocco’s teasing tone doesn’t get a rise out of me.
I nod and stare at the busy dining room with waitresses flitting about. “Yeah. I’m going.” I grab the handle and freeze as I see the last fucking person I expect to see walking by the restaurant. “You see this shit?”
Rocco’s gaze follows my finger to the figure of Milo Bancetti, my biggest enemy, though he’s not much of a threat to me professionally. Rocco’s expression darkens and he steps from the car. “He’s fucking dead.”
“Not yet.” Milo is on borrowed time for sure. The guy blames me for his father’s death and I let him because it keeps the peace with the Russians, but one of these days he’s going to push me too far. “This can’t be a fucking coincidence.”
“Probably not,” Rocco agrees. “Go see about your girl and I’m going to follow the prick.”
I smile. “A six-foot seven bald dude in an expensive suit? No offense but you’re not exactly inconspicuous.”
“Right.” He reaches into the car, coming out with a red baseball cap. “Better, right?”
I roll my eyes.
He shrugs out of his suit jacket, replacing it with a hoodie before taking off down the sidewalk.
I watch him until he hooks a left at the corner, and then jog across the street and enter Queen’s City Bistro. It’s been too fucking long since I saw Sabrina, since I tasted her.
That ends today.