Lilac

“Why are you so threatened by me?”

“Come again?”

“You behave like a boy who’s just been told he has to play nice with girls. You trample, growl, and puff out your chest just to show me who’s in charge. It’s been three months, Houston. I’m still not convinced, but I finally know the reason why. I’ve been asking for your respect when I should have told you that you haven’t even begun to earn mine. I’ll make it super clear and easy for you, caveman. Start with this pretense that you hate me and drop it.”

“I see.” Stepping toward her, I tossed Rich a warning look when it looked like he’d try to stop me. “And what if I’m not pretending?”

“I haven’t done anything to you.”

I held her stare for a moment just to gauge if she was serious and snorted. “I’m not buying this babe-in-the-woods bullshit, Bambi.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” I returned with finality. I knew it because every time we got too close, her demons called out to mine.

By now, Rich had both hands gripping his black hair, his silver and gold-flecked gaze wild with indecision. He wanted to come to Braxton’s rescue but wasn’t sure if she was worth the risk. Our friendship was rocky enough without this extra catalyst, which was why she had to go. If I were in his shoes, there’s no question what I would do.

I would have never let her attention be stolen in the first place.

“Leave.”

Rich had his rare moments of defiance—like now when his gaze shifted to Braxton, silently asking if she wanted him to stay. He wasn’t a pussy by any stretch. He just didn’t like making waves.

I was always wound tight, Loren forever the rowdy one, which left Rich to be the calm before and after the storm. We balanced each other until Braxton came and tipped the scales.

“It’s okay, Rich.”

Even after giving him the okay to leave her alone with me, he stood there a moment longer.

“I’ll be in the shower if you need me,” he finally told her before disappearing behind the door I’d just come through. The moment the sound of his footsteps faded, and the bedroom door closed, I was on Braxton.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” The ponytail she’d pulled her hair into this morning was now in my grip. It’s what I’d been longing to do since the day she wandered into Savant’s conference room and turned my world on its head. When her neck was arched, leaving her throat exposed, it was all I could do not to sink my teeth in. “And you shouldn’t keep pretending you’re not aware of what will happen if you keep giving me lip.”

“You’ll kill me?” she tossed back, reminding me of my bullshit threat a month ago. I wanted to fuck with her head, and though I succeeded in convincing her, I failed to make her give a shit. I shook my head as a smile crept up on me.

The longer I knew Braxton, the less I understood her.

“Let me go, Houston.”

“Convince me that we understand each other.”

“I told you what it would take,” she returned.

“I don’t respect you, Braxton. I never will. You’re useful, but that doesn’t make you our equal.”

For a moment, the little hope she held vanished from her big, round eyes. She looked lost and frustrated until that defiant gleam I hated so much returned tenfold. “Then what are we even talking about?”

“We’re discussing the inevitability of you doing as you’re told. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Will you? Good luck with that. The only time I bend is when I’m getting fucked, but we’ve already established that it’s not happening between us.”

Unprepared for her response, my hold loosened, so I let my hand fall. I didn’t back away from the temptation of her body this close to mine, though. “Last chance, Bambi. Look down or bow down. Just show me who’s in charge.”

She smiled at me.

What I felt from that simple gesture, that unspoken challenge…I wasn’t this excited when Bound scored a record deal or received its first platinum. Braxton made life more than just interesting.

She made it worth living.

Loren and Jericho challenged me, but neither of them ever made my dick hard while doing it.

When I took hold of her again, it was her hips I caught before I yanked her into me. There was no space left between us now. No guarantee I’d let her go this time.

“That’s your problem,” I whispered to her when she refused to break our stare and submit. “You’re always bringing a knife to a gunfight, Fawn. You should have gone for my balls.”

One day, I’d figure out how she managed to appear both innocent and insolent at the same time. This was the paradox of Braxton Fawn—to look like heaven on earth while wreaking havoc on my peace of mind.