I lay there, with my heart still pounding and body still clenching with the loss of him, and wondered how I could possibly hold it together. How stupid could I have been to think casual sex with him was going to be enough? I’d always been a commitment, flowers, and romance kind of girl, even if I hadn’t been getting the full package from the last few guys I dated. A powerful surge of emotion ripped through me as Braydon held me, murmuring sweet things in my ear.
I felt like crying. I was already falling for him, and there was no way he was going to reciprocate my feelings. He’d made it abundantly clear that whatever was happening between us was just sex.
God, I felt like an idiot.
At times he was so careful and affectionate with me, it felt like anything but a random hookup.
“You want to shower before bed?” he asked.
I hadn’t really assumed I’d be spending the night here. I thought this was a place to hook up and then I’d go back home and sleep in my own bed. I didn’t have pajamas, my toothbrush . . . not to mention I didn’t relish the idea of the walk of shame in the morning, dressed in yesterday’s clothes.
I sat up abruptly, knowing this wouldn’t work for me. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping here.”
“Why not?” He patted the space beside him. “King-sized bed. Plenty of space, even for a bed hog like you.”
I got out of bed on shaky legs. I knew the scent of this man, his tastes, his preferences, the soft throaty way he cursed when he entered me. Sex brought out far more emotion for me. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I wasn’t cut out to be one of his arrangements. The act of sex was far more intimate in my view than Braydon believed. It brought a certain closeness that I couldn’t shake. I thought of him constantly, remembering the feel of his rough hands on my skin, the way his teeth grazed my neck with every thrust forward. . . .
“Let’s face it. We’re supposed to be f**k pals, right?” I bit out. His jaw tensed, but he didn’t argue. “That’s all this is. And we’re getting too close, too familiar. I know how you like your eggs, that you like to take a shower after sex and stay in there for exactly seven minutes. I know that you prefer classical music and jazz, which beers are your favorite. . . .”
Braydon sat up on the bed, studying me with curiosity. “This isn’t what we agreed to. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I wanted to scream at him; I didn’t want him to be sorry. I wanted him to take me in his arms, f**k logic, f**k all our rules, and make me his. He said all along he felt this powerful connection between us—wasn’t that enough for him to want to be with me?
But instead, he continued watching me with a weary expression while rubbing the back of his neck. “Shall I call you a cab then?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I can grab one right outside the hotel, I’m sure.” I just needed out of this room, out of this space that smelled of him, of us, of sex. I needed away from his pretty blue eyes, which always saw too much, before I lost it entirely. Stuffing my feet into my shoes, I dashed for the door. I heard Braydon release a muted curse word just before the door closed. Tears were already swimming in my eyes, so I was thankful for the cover of night.
As soon as I was in the darkened backseat of the yellow cab, I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably while trying to give the poor driver my address. I settled for pointing and stuttering through my tears at the upcoming intersections. The rush of tears had been building for too long, and I could do nothing to stop it. The cab driver handed me a box of tissues and mumbled something in response to my hiccupping my address at him.
I folded my arms around myself, holding tightly. I hated that I could remember how Braydon’s hands felt on my skin, the tender way he held me close, the exquisitely slow way he slid deep inside me, the way his breath whispered softly across my lips moments before he kissed me. I scrubbed my hands over my face, wiping away the stupid tears dampening my cheeks. It was foolish to waste tears on him. He and I would never be more. I knew what this was when we started it. He’d pursued me relentlessly, and I’d stupidly agreed to be his f**k friend. I thought I’d be in control, but now I saw that would never be possible. You couldn’t not fall for a man like him. He was beautiful, kind, funny, and seriously really f**king good in bed. It really wasn’t fair. And now he’d put my life through a blender. He was all I thought about, everything I wanted. And I couldn’t have him.
I pulled in a shaky breath and forced myself to hold it together. Soon the cab was pulling to a stop in front of my building. I shoved thirty dollars at the driver and climbed from the car, my sore body cruelly reminding me of my intimate encounter with Braydon.
Once inside my silent and familiar apartment, I padded to my bedroom, undressed, and climbed under the covers. It was obvious I wasn’t cut out for casual sex. Yet I knew with absolute certainty I wasn’t doing anything to stop Braydon’s pursuit of me.
8
The following day, I woke up with a clearer sense of myself. I was glad I hadn’t stayed in that hotel room when I’d felt uncomfortable. Waking up in my own bed had done me some good. I felt the tiniest bit more in control. I was in too deep with this arrangement with Braydon and I needed to maintain some semblance of control. Later that day, Emmy called.
“Hey, are you almost ready?” Emmy’s voice crackled through a bad connection on her cell.
“Ready for what?” I asked.
It was clear she didn’t hear me because she kept right on with her questions. “And are you guys driving separately or is the limo picking you up?”
“Emmy, what are you talking about?”
The static in the phone crackled and faded, and Emmy went silent. “Oh. Shit, Ells, I’m sorry, I just assumed you were coming tonight with Braydon.”
“Coming where?” Now my curiosity was piqued. Apparently they were all headed somewhere tonight. And I wasn’t invited.
“It’s um, a gala honoring the best male models in the business. Both Ben and Braydon received nominations for awards.”
“Oh.” It sounded pretty significant. A huge honor for Braydon, and he hadn’t mentioned a thing. I guess that told me where I ranked on his list of priorities. Getting his tux cleaned was above Call Ellie on his to-do list. “It’s fine, Emmy. Have fun tonight.”
“Nonsense, put your best cocktail dress on and throw your hair up into one of those pretty up-dos you’re so good at. You’ll come with me and Ben. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”