Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
brYNN AND THE DANGEROUS GAME
The incessant hum of the basement’s air conditioner seemed louder tonight rather than soothing. I sat cross-legged on the cold floor, my back against the wall. I heard someone descending the staircase and entering the basement. The overhead lights had been dimmed to a faint glow that illuminated Braxton once he stepped into the cold light.
“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Braxton asked.
I jerked upright, startled. I squinted at him, the soft light outlining his lean frame. “What are you doing here?” My tone was sharp.
Just what I needed—a late-night visit from Mr. Charming himself. As if being locked up wasn’t bad enough, now I had to deal with this walking temptation. My heart did a little flip-flop that I desperately tried to ignore.
“Figured I’d find some company in insomnia. Is that okay?” Braxton padded into the room with a grace that seemed incongruous with the situation.
“Insomnia’s a solo gig.” Though a part of me welcomed the distraction.
Who was I kidding? The distraction was more than welcome. Anything to take my mind off the constant worry about Kay, the gnawing fear of what the Porters might do next. But I couldn’t let him see that. Nope, had to keep those walls up.
“Is that so?” He chuckled, standing outside of my cell, then took a seat on an old sofa left to rot down here with me. “Well, consider me your sleepless chaperone.”
“Charming.” The edges of my mouth betrayed me, curling into a reluctant smile.
Damn it. There went my tough girl act. One smile from him and I was turning into a puddle. Pull it together, Soto. I’d faced down worse than a pretty boy with puppy dog eyes.
We sat in companionable silence for a moment before Braxton spoke again, his voice softer, more reflective. “You know, my family...they mean everything to me. This whole mess with Shoemaker...” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“Protectiveness is a heavy cloak to wear.” I thought of my sister, Kay, and how far I’d go to keep her safe. She was the whole reason I was doing this—pretending to be someone else—Shoemaker’s daughter. Kay’s face flashed in my mind, her sweet smile, her trusting eyes. God, I missed her. The ache in my chest was almost physical.
“Isn’t it just?” He sighed, leaning back. “Sometimes, I wonder if we made the right call.”
“Blackmail’s a dirty business, eh?”
“Sure is.” He ran a hand through his sandy hair, then frowned. “You ever feel like the world chewed you up and spat you out?”
“Every day. I, uh, I lost my parents when I was just a kid. It breaks you in ways you can’t imagine.”
The admission surprised me. I never talked about my parents, not to anyone. But something about Braxton’s presence, the quiet vulnerability in his voice, made me want to open up. It was terrifying and oddly comforting at the same time. Completely caught up in the moment, I realized my mistake. I held my breath, waiting to see if Braxton did as well.
“Same,” he said, his brown eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made me relax somewhat. “It shapes you, doesn’t it? Makes you do things you never thought you would.”
I nodded, suddenly aware of the heat radiating from his body. Damn, why did he have to be so... relatable? And hot. Literally hot. The cell suddenly felt ten degrees warmer. I tried to focus on the cold concrete floor, the damp walls, anything but the way his t-shirt hugged his chest. Get it together, Brynn. He’s your captor, remember? Even if he does have eyes you could drown in.
Damn, I needed sleep. Or a cold shower. Maybe both.
“Makes you understand things you wish you didn’t.”
“Yeah.” His gaze lingered on my face as he sat on the sofa outside my cell, and in that prolonged eye contact, a rush of desire struck me, and my pulse accelerate.
The air conditioner clicked off and the basement was even quieter now. I stay seated on the floor, leaning against the cool cement wall.
“So, Elizabeth,” Braxton said, leaning forward on the sofa. “What’s it like being Chad Shoemaker’s daughter?”
My stomach clenched. Right. Elizabeth. Not Brynn. I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “Oh, you know. Fancy parties, corporate schmoozing. The usual Elite bullshit.”
He chuckled, the sound sending a warm tingle over my exposed skin. “Sounds thrilling.”
“Oh yeah, it’s a real blast. Nothing like watching a bunch of rich assholes congratulate themselves on screwing over the little guy.”
Braxton’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, tell me how you really feel.”
I bit my lip, realizing I’d let too much of my true self slip through. Dammit, Brynn, get it together.
“I mean, it’s not all bad. The, um, you know, food’s pretty good.”
He laughed again, and I found myself smiling. This was dangerous territory. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down, couldn’t risk revealing who I really was. And yet something about Braxton made me want to open up, to share parts of myself I didn’t usually share or show anyone else.
“You’re not what I expected,” he said, his voice soft.
I swallowed hard. “Oh? And what did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Some stuck-up princess, I guess. But you’re...different. Fucking tough as nails.”
My pulse sped up. Different. If only he knew how different.
I hung my head. “Maybe I had to be…my life…hasn’t been easy. Not like you think.”
A slow smile spread across his face, and heat pooled low in my belly. “Maybe I’d like to know you better, then. Get to know the real Elizabeth.”
Oh, hell. This was not good. Not good at all. I needed to shut this down, to remember why I was here. When Braxton’s heated stare roamed over my body, all I could think about was how much I wanted to reach through those bars and run my fingers through his hair.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” I murmured, my voice husky.
He leaned closer, his breath warm on my skin. “Maybe I like danger.”
I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to close the distance between us, except I couldn’t forget that there were bars separating us. This wasn’t real. None of it was real. I was lying to him, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. And yet...the connection I felt was indisputable.
When I opened my eyes again, Braxton was watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch. “Tell me something true,” he said quietly.
My heart stuttered. Something true. God, where would I even begin? I took a shaky breath, and blew it out. “I’m scared,” I admitted, the confession slipping out before I could stop it.
Braxton’s eyebrows shot up. “Of what?”
Of you, I wanted to say. Of the way you are suddenly making me feel. Of what might happen if I let myself trust you.
I shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “Take your pick. Being held captive, the uncertain future, the fact that your cousin Joel looks like he wants to murder me in my sleep...”
He snorted. “Joel looks at everyone like that. It’s his resting face.”
I laughed, more tension easing from my shoulders. I knew I should keep my distance, maintain the facade of Elizabeth Shoemaker. But with every smile, every shared joke, I felt my resolve weakening.
“Can I ask you something?” Braxton said, his tone suddenly serious.
My pulse quickened. “Sure.”
He hesitated, then met my gaze. “Do you ever wish you could just...start over? Be someone else entirely?”
The question hit me like a punch to the gut. If only he knew. I swallowed hard, fighting to keep my expression impartial. “Sometimes,” I whispered. “But we can’t outrun who we are, can we?”
Braxton’s eyes searched mine, and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought he could see right through me. “Maybe not,” he said softly. “But maybe we can become something better.”
He pulled a key from his pocket, stood up, walked over to my cell door, and unlocked it. “But, hey, tonight, let’s not think about all that.”
Damn, why did that sound so sexy? Get it together, Brynn. This guy’s still the enemy, no matter how fine he looks.
The metallic click of the key in the lock sent my pulse soaring. Braxton stepped into my cell, his presence filling the cramped space with an electric charge. I inhaled sharply, catching a whiff of his cologne—spicy and intoxicating.
“Care to join me on the bed? The floor doesn’t look too comfortable,” he teased, gesturing towards the cot with a wink.
Oh hell, why’d he have to go and say that? Now all I can think about is...sex. With Braxton.
“Only if you promise to keep your snarky humor to a minimum,” I quipped, hoping my voice didn’t betray the tremor I felt inside.
“Can’t make any promises,” Braxton shot back, his gaze roaming over me with unmistakable heat.
I stood up, hyper-aware of every inch between us. Shit, when did this cell get so small? And why is it suddenly a thousand degrees in here?
“Fair enough,” I managed, moving towards the cot on unsteady legs.
Braxton sat down, patting the space beside him. “I’m curious. What’s it like to be Elizabeth Shoemaker?”
I perched next to him, our thighs almost touching. The warmth radiating from his body made it hard to concentrate. Shit, shit, shit. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his... too late.
“It’s complicated,” I admitted, meeting his intense stare.
“And how’s that?” His voice was low, inviting confidences.
I swallowed hard, searching for words that were true for both Elizabeth and myself. Careful, Brynn. Don’t blow your cover now, not when you’re so close.
“Let’s just say I’m more than just another Elite.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Braxton murmured. His fingers found mine, intertwining naturally. The contact sent sparks shooting up my arm and I fought back a surge of lust.
I leaned in closer as if drawn by an invisible force. Oh god, what am I doing? This is insane. He’s my captor. He kidnapped me. Sort of. But damn, those eyes...
“Someone like you, perhaps?” My voice came out breathy.
“Perhaps,” he whispered, his lips tantalizingly close to my ear. His warm breath fanned across my cheek, and I fought the urge to close the remaining distance between us.
My heart thundered in my chest as I turned to face him fully. Braxton’s expression was a mix of desire and something softer—almost a vulnerability that I hadn’t expected to see. I lifted my hand, my fingers hovering just shy of his jaw, torn between caution and the overwhelming need to touch him.
“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” I said softly, and smiled.
Braxton’s larger hand came up to cover mine, pressing my palm against his cheek. “I could say the same about you, Elizabeth.”
For a moment, guilt gnawed at me. I wasn’t Elizabeth. But in that instant, with Braxton looking at me like I was the only person in the world, I wished I could be. I wished I could be the person he thought I was—someone worthy of the tenderness in his touch, the warmth in his gaze.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I whispered, the truth of those words hitting me hard.
“Then let me learn. I want to know everything.”
The sincerity in his voice made my chest ache. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his, our breaths mingling. In that moment, in spite of everything—the lies, the danger, the uncertainty—I felt kinship with this man that I hadn’t felt with anyone else in a long time.
“Every single detail.” Braxton’s breath was warm against my skin. His fingers slipped into my hair, gently tugging at the roots.
“You might regret what you find.”
“Never.”
His lips brushed mine then, a whisper of a kiss that promised so much more. With every fiber of my being screaming for him, I kissed him back with an intensity that startled even me. My hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt.
Damn, this boy could kiss. It was like striking a match in a room full of gasoline - explosive, dangerous, and absolutely thrilling. Part of me wanted to pull back, to remember all the reasons why this was a terrible idea. But the rest of me? The rest of me was too busy melting into a pool of lust.
Braxton’s response was immediate, fervent, his hands gripping my waist and pulling me closer still. We were a whirlwind of need, kissing with a hunger that seemed to consume us both. There was nothing else but the heat of his mouth on mine, the electric touch of his skin against my fingertips.
I should have been thinking about the danger, about the lies weaving tighter around us, but all I could focus on was the fiery desire coursing through my veins. Each kiss felt like a challenge, a question, a dare that neither of us wanted to end.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured against my lips, and I flinched, guilt slicing through the haze of lust.
Shit. Reality check, served ice cold. Nothing like hearing another woman’s name to douse the flames of passion. For a split second, I considered coming clean, spilling my guts about who I really was. But self-preservation kicked in, reminding me that honesty wasn’t always the best policy—especially when you’re neck-deep in a con.
He paused, his eyes searching mine. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I assured quickly, too quickly. “It’s just...maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Hey,” Braxton said softly, his thumb brushing the line of my jaw. “If it’s too fast—”
“It’s not that. It’s just...” I trailed off, not sure how to explain the turmoil inside me without revealing that I was a fake—a liar, an imposter.
“Talk to me,” he urged.
I looked into his eyes, those deep pools of warmth and mischief, and felt a pang of sorrow for the deceit between us. But it was too late for confessions, too late to back away from the dangerous game I’d begun.
“Sometimes things feel too good to be true. And people get hurt.”
Oh, if he only knew how true that was. I was playing with fire, knowing full well I was going to get burned and probably take him down with me.
“Nobody’s getting hurt tonight,” he said firmly, pulling me to my feet. “Not on my watch.”
His lips found mine again, and suddenly we were moving, caught up in the dance of kisses and caresses once more. His hands were bold yet gentle, exploring the curves of my body, drawing out sensations that left me breathless and wanting.
I knew I should stop this, put the brakes on before we crossed a line we couldn’t come back from. But my body had other ideas, responding to his touch like a finely tuned instrument. It was intoxicating, this feeling of being wanted, desired. For a moment, I could almost forget who I really was, lose myself in the fantasy of being Elizabeth. Almost.
For those stolen moments, I allowed myself to believe in the possibility of us, in the foolish hope that there was a chance for something real amidst the lies and deceit.
“Braxton,” I gasped, when we finally broke apart, my pulse racing. “I—”
He smiled, pressing his forehead to mine. “No more words. Just this. Just us.”
I knew that no matter what happened next, I had already crossed a line from which there was no return.
Braxton drew back slightly, his eyes roaming over my body with undisguised hunger. A smoldering intensity burned in his gaze as it met mine again. The cell seemed to grow warmer with him in it and my lust for this sexy man only grew stronger, more intense.
Holy crap, the way he looked at me made me feel like I was melting from the inside out. Part of me wanted to crack a joke to break the tension, but a bigger part just wanted to devour him whole. So much for my vaunted street smarts—right now I was about as sharp as a bowl of jello.
“Damn, you’re so pretty,” Braxton murmured breathily, his voice rough with desire. One hand moved slowly down my side, his touch leaving a fiery path along my sensitized skin.
I trembled, arching into him, craving more contact. “Kiss me again. Please.” I leaned into him. I just needed him, with a desperation that eclipsed rational thought.
His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him so I could feel every hard plane and angle of his body through his clothes. I gasped as his hardness pressed insistently against my thigh as we sat on the bed, betraying how much he wanted me, too.
My brain short-circuited. All those years of carefully built walls came crumbling down in an instant. I’d spent so long convinced I didn’t need anyone, that I was better off alone. But right now, with Braxton’s hands on me, I couldn’t remember why I’d ever thought that was a good idea.
Braxton captured my lips in another scorching kiss, his touch devouring me with an urgency that left me lightheaded. His tongue delved deep, stroking and caressing until I was clinging to him, my knees weak. I explored the sculpted muscles of his back and shoulders, reveling in the feeling of his body pressing into the mine. Every nerve ending was alive and singing with sensation.
He nuzzled my neck, his breath hot against my skin. Braxton placed open-mouthed kisses along the column of my throat. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I first saw you,” Braxton confessed, his voice a low rumble that I felt all the way to my core.
My heart softened when Braxton’s lips moved down my neck, making my skin heat all over. My resolve was crumbling under his skilled ministrations. His strong hands drifted up my sides, gently cupping my breasts through the thin fabric of my shirt. The softness of his touch belied the passion simmering between us.
A tiny voice in the back of my head tried to remind me of all the reasons this was a bad idea. But that voice was getting drowned out by the thundering of my pulse and the electric feeling of Braxton’s hands on my body. I’d spent my whole life being careful, calculating every move. For once, I just wanted to let go and feel.
I reached for the buckle of Braxton’s belt, her fingers trembling with anticipation and trepidation. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t stop me. The leather slid to the floor at our feet. He stepped out of his pants, and my breath caught in my throat. His boxers hung low on his slender hips, emphasizing his arousal.
“Elizabeth, are you sure about this?”
“I’ve never been more certain,” I whispered.
The ruse was starting to blur with reality. I felt myself being swept away by our escalating passion. Braxton tugged off my shirt and pulled it over my head, revealing the black lace bra I wore underneath. A low groan rumbled in his chest and he traced the delicate lace with his fingertips.
Braxton’s lips found mine again, stealing all thought from my head save for the sensations coursing through my body.
The heat of Braxton’s touch seared through me as his fingers traced a path down my spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My bra fell away, and I heard his sharp intake of breath. He moaned, his heated stare raking over me.
Holy hell, the way he looked at me made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. It was intoxicating, dangerous even. But I’d never been one to play it safe.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
I felt a flush creep into my cheeks, but I didn’t care—not anymore. I was done with hiding.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I teased. My fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers.
Braxton’s breathing sped up. I guided those thin boxers down his hips, revealing him in all his naked glory. He was already hard, and I felt a thrill of desire course through me. I felt hot with desire coiling tight in my core at the sight of him.
Christ, he was perfect. Like a Greek god come to life. And here I was, about to defile him. The thought sent a wicked thrill through me.
Braxton’s hand slid up my thigh, making my body tremble with want and need and unbridled lust. He cupped my ass, pulling me flush against him. The hard length of him pressed against me. I couldn’t remember why this had seemed like a bad idea. The only thing that mattered was the raw, aching need pulsating between my legs.
My brain short-circuited, every logical thought flying out the window. Who needed reason when you had this?
“God, Elizabeth, I’ve wanted this for so long.” He groaned, his voice thick with desire.
We fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated skin. I guided his cock inside me, inch by excruciating inch, until our bodies became one. We moved together slowly, our moans intermingling in the air. We moved together, finding a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing.
It was like we’d done this a thousand times before. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure shooting through me, making me forget everything but this moment.
Braxton’s thrusts were deep, possessive, and I couldn’t get enough. Braxton’s hands gripped my hips, guiding me to meet each thrust. My world narrowed to the points where our bodies connected, pleasure building with each movement. I was lost in the sensations, my thoughts consumed by the pleasure building inside me.
I’d never felt so alive, so present. Every nerve ending was on fire, singing with pleasure. This was what I’d been missing, what I’d been searching for without even knowing it. Sex with Sebastian had been amazing, but with Braxton it was different, hotter.
Braxton’s grunts grew louder, more desperate. “I’m close, Elizabeth—I’m so close.” He panted.
“Yes, yes.” I moaned, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
His hips slammed into mine, driving us both over the edge. I cried out, my back arching, as I climaxed around him. Braxton groaned, his body tense as he shuddered within me. His hot breath fanned my neck as he collapsed next to me, both of us panting and spent.
As the reverberations rippled through me, I started to wonder…was this a stupid mistake, or the best decision I’d ever made?
I’d had sex with Braxton and Sebastian…oh, god. What was I doing? And why did it feel so damn good?
We lay there, our hearts pounding in unison, our naked bodies still entangled. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt truly alive. In Braxton’s arms, I wasn’t just a pawn in some twisted game. I was me—flawed, complicated, but undeniably human.
Yet as the afterglow faded, reality crept back in. I wasn’t Elizabeth. I was Brynn, a girl from the streets playing a dangerous game. And I’d just complicated everything.