“Dominance, affection, security, and…sex.”
“Right.” Brax bounced his knees excitedly. “And we don’t have to tell Hunter.”
I laughed, and then shook his hand in agreement. “No Hunter.”
“So…” He fluttered his lashes and then glanced over his shoulder back toward the bedroom. “Does this mean you can stay for an after-breakfast snack?”
Tempting. I wanted to ease the kimono off his shoulder and kiss the most tender parts of his collarbone. I wanted to learn every part of his body and discover the ways I could control his pleasure. And most of all, I wanted to make him come so hard again, quivering and whining as his body responded to my demands.
I fingered the edges of the silky collar and watched goosebumps spring across his neck. “Hm…what do you have in mind?”
“Hey, you tell me.” He gave me his candy-sweet smile and let the kimono slip off his shoulders. “You’re the boss.”
15
Braxton
Red where it should have been purple; shadow where I meant to highlight. I stood back from the painting and groaned at the mess I’d made. It was a six-foot canvas—expensive and difficult to get upstairs—and I’d been working on the piece for the week since my first night with Ryland. I’d felt too intense painting the Ry portrait after the incredible sex we’d had. I was already thinking about him near-constantly and didn’t need to stare at an oil painted rendering of his features all day too, so I’d switched to this piece, an abstract in my usual style. It had been coming along great for the first few days after Ry had stayed over. He’d sparked something inside me, lit me right up, and the sexual tension translated into creativity.
Even our morning-after sex had been a replay of the night before—all attention on me, and I wasn’t allowed to get him off. The frustration of not being able to touch him coursed through me for the whole week, woke me up early with a throbbing desire I could only relieve by focusing on the canvas. The painting had been coming along really well…until this morning. Because where I’d been frustrated and excited, now I was nervous.
I had plans to see Ry for our first “date” or whatever this arrangement was. The arrangement I wasn’t so sure I really believed in… I’d suggested it on a whim earlier, desperate to keep him in my life, and I was shocked when he’d said yes. I’d almost taken it back but in the end my body had won out—and I’d been glad. Things had been great between us. Ry and Hunter had been in New York City chasing a lead on their case, so Ry and I had only been texting. Very low stakes. A little flirting, nothing heavy. Perfect.
But as soon as I put paintbrush to canvas, I realized that tonight things were going to get…real. I wanted our relationship to be casual and cool, to feel like I could just show up and have a little fun. The truth was I was already attached. More than I wanted to be. I missed him.
So with my best intentions, shaky hands and a head full of “what ifs”, I wrecked the painting.
“Domino… This is trash.” I sighed and wiped off my palette with a rag.
The kitten clawed the couch and then bolted from the room like he’d seen a ghost. Good review of the painting, I thought. Honest, at least. I glanced at the clock and started cleaning up faster. Just half an hour before I had to leave for therapy. As promised, I was getting my mental health taken care of from a professional, not putting any of it on Ry.
Yeah. With Ry it was just physical.
Just.
Physical.
Forty-five minutes later, I rushed out of the Vanguard Tower in tight burgundy slacks, a soft cream shirt with a high bow collar, and a leather jacket. Late, of course. I pushed open the front door and caught a flash of red hair a moment before I thumped into the wall of muscle in front of me.
“Oh, hey, it’s the invisible brother!” Owen stepped back and dusted off my shoulder.
“Where you been? We haven’t seen you in days!” Richie said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been busy painting. And now I’m late.”
“For what?” They asked at the same time, a protective frown on their faces.
“Therapy.” I didn’t have to tell them I was heading to Ryland’s house afterwards. “And did I mention, I’m late?”
I pushed past them, but they turned and followed me.
“We’ll come with.” Owen threw