Follow Me Darkly (Follow Me #1) - Helen Hardt Page 0,27
not drunk. I never get drunk. And I can sleep with whomever I want. How did you find me anyway?”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Instagram.”
Right. My selfie with Tessa, and Braden now is following me because I confirmed his request.
“I’m going back in,” I say.
“Not without me.”
“Do you even have a ticket to this event?”
“Do you think I need a ticket?”
I shake my head. Pointless question. He probably made a six-figure donation at the door. “Fine, come along, then. I can’t leave Tessa in there alone.”
“Tessa’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”
“Interesting take. Tessa’s my age, Braden, and you obviously don’t think I can take care of myself.”
“Not true. I didn’t show up because you can’t take care of yourself. I showed up to keep you out of someone else’s bed.”
I shake my head, even though my body responds to his attempt to control me. “You’re unbelievable. What makes you think I’d end up in someone’s bed?”
“Look at you. You’re beautiful with a killer body. Damn, that dress…”
I tap my foot and scoff. “Please…”
“Do you really not see yourself the way I see you?” He cups my cheek. “Your hair is the color of roasted chestnuts, your eyes the warmest brown I’ve ever seen. Your skin is like the richest cream, and God, Skye, your mouth…” He inhales. “Your lips are pink and plump and heart-shaped, and fuck, I can’t leave them alone. I’ve never seen a mouth like yours. The way your lips are always slightly parted drives me wild.”
His description catches me off guard. Does he truly see me like that? I’m attractive, yes, but he makes me sound like something truly special. Electricity darts between my legs. I want to melt into him, but I hold my ground.
“You’re acting like I was in there gyrating for ten-dollar bills in my panties. It’s a hotel charity event for MADD, Braden, not a strip club.”
“That dress—”
“Isn’t even mine. It’s my friend’s.”
“It can’t look anywhere near as good on her as it does on you.” His voice cracks a little.
Wow. Braden’s voice cracks. Actually cracks. What can he be thinking? Maybe that he shouldn’t have kicked me out of his bed? That’s what he should be thinking.
I swallow. “I need to go back in.”
“Why? Dancing? You want to go dancing? I’ll take you dancing. Be sure to wear that amazing dress.”
“I told you, it’s not—”
“Your dress,” he finishes for me. “It should be. It was made for you.”
My nipples tighten and push against my bra while heat pulses through me. I want to be angry at Braden. Really.
“What are you doing here anyway?” he asks.
“Addie gave me the tickets.”
“Of course,” he says. “Addie. I should have seen her fingerprints all over this.”
“So what? I got the tickets, and I wanted to go out with my friend.”
“Like I said, I’ll take you dancing.”
“I don’t want to go dancing,” I say.
“What do you want, then?”
To go to your place. Back to your bed. Back to the most heavenly experience of my life.
Control.
“I want to go back inside. My friend will be worried.”
“If I take you back inside, the men will be all over you.”
“Braden, one guy was paying attention to me. One. And you scared him off.”
“He’s not good enough for you.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Neither do you.”
“Of course I do. He’s an architect.” My knowledge ends there, but Braden doesn’t need to know that.
“You’re wrong, Skye. I do know him. That’s Peter Reardon, and his father is Beau Reardon of Reardon Brothers Architecture. His friend is Garrett Ramirez, also an architect with the company. Beau is trying to get the contract on my new building.”
I wrench my arm out of his grasp—it takes all my mental strength because I really want him touching me. “What are you saying? That the two of them are paying attention to us because of you?”
“I’m not saying that at all.”
“Sounds like it from where I’m standing.”
“Not at all. They didn’t know you were with me before—but now they do. They’re playboys. I guarantee you they both have two things on their minds tonight. That contract—which probably means a huge bonus from Daddy—and getting laid. I’ll let you guess which one is foremost in their minds on a Saturday night.”
“Interesting. What do you have on your mind tonight, Braden?”
His lips turn slightly upward, but his gaze remains shadowy. “Not a contract.”
I stifle a tremble. I’m wet. So wet. I can feel it almost pooling in my panties. But I hold