I stand. “I’m suddenly not hungry.”
“Sit down, Skye. Stop being petulant.”
“Fine.” I obey and sit. “Then you stop being patronizing.”
That smile tugs at the corner of his mouth again, but he’s nothing if not determined. “Deal.”
As if on cue, our oysters arrive.
“It’s time you learned how to slurp an oyster, Skye.”
Chapter Eleven
By my sixth oyster, I have the slurping thing down.
And I’m horny as hell.
Watching Braden suck an oyster off its half shell and onto his tongue is a sexy sight indeed. The man has a lethal mouth. I reach for my phone and snap a photo.
“You’re not thinking about posting that,” he says after swallowing.
“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I’m thinking of doing.” I giggle. “Influencing isn’t just about sponsored posts.”
“I’m happy to pose in a selfie with you,” he says, “but oyster slurping? Not going to happen.”
I huff softly. “Fine.” I move to his side of the table, snap a quick selfie, and then sit back down in my chair.
Slurping oysters with @bradenblackinc! #unionoysterhouse #oysterslurping #bostonsfinest
I click post. Then, watching him down another one, “Are you going to try one just with a twist of lemon?” I ask.
“Sorry. I like the cocktail sauce.”
“You have a little smudge of it on the corner of your mouth,” I say.
The corners of his mouth tilt upward, and he pats his napkin to it, removing the sauce.
This man is so sexy.
“Braden…”
“Yes?”
“I wouldn’t have taken the deal with Heather.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you interfere?”
“Because I know business. Crystal’s Closet isn’t the best-run corporation, and I don’t particularly want you getting involved.”
“You just said you knew I wasn’t going to take the deal.”
“I know you wouldn’t have taken the deal as she first expressed it. The two of you may have come to terms.”
I finish off my bourbon. “What’s wrong with how they run their business?”
“They have some questionable investments.”
“Like what?”
“Suffice it to say they keep a substantial amount of their assets in banks in the Cayman Islands, which is a huge red flag.”
“Why?”
“Cayman banks are tax havens. That’s certainly not a bad thing. I have investments there myself. But Cayman banks also take confidentiality very seriously. Hence, the red flag.”
“Meaning?”
“Money laundering, Skye.”
“That’s a pretty significant accusation, Braden.”
“I’m not making an accusation. I’m just telling you it’s a red flag. If my girlfriend is going to model sexy clothes, I want to make sure the company she’s doing it for is red-flag free.”
I smile slyly. “So it’s okay for me to model sexy clothes? Just not underwear and bustiers?”
“You really want to have this conversation in public?”
“Yes,” I say adamantly. “Because it’s my body, my choice. If I want to model sexy clothes, I’ll model sexy clothes.”
“Even if I’d rather you didn’t?” He sears me with his blue gaze.
“Why not? That GQ spread showed you in skivvies, for God’s sake.”
That raucous laugh I hear so seldom flies out of his throat like holiday bells. “Skye, I’ve said it before. You are a challenge.”
I smile. Yeah, I’m still only a budding influencer because of who my boyfriend is, but I feel better.
Braden considers me a challenge.
Me. Skye Manning, a Kansas farm girl.
He’s the ultimate challenge, and I will figure him out. I will.
…
“Grasp the rungs of the headboard, Skye.”
I’m already naked, of course. Braden made quick work of my clothes as soon as we got back to his place. I expect him to tie me to the rungs as he normally does, but instead, he returns from his dresser drawer with two different types of bindings. He secures them to each outside rung of the headboard.
“Give me your hand.”
I reach toward him with my right hand. He secures it by buckling it into a leather cuff, which is attached to a thick leather cord and then to the outside rung. This is different. My arms will be spread out like a Y, but I have some movement. Interesting.
He secures my other wrist on the other side of the headboard.
“Let me know if you have any pain,” Braden says. “This shouldn’t be painful, although it is a stretch, and you will use some muscles you’re not used to using.”
“I will.”
“This is one of my favorite positions, Skye. I’ve waited a long time to try it with you.” He walks back toward the dresser but then turns to the antique wardrobe. He opens it.
I gasp.
The first time I saw this room, I wondered why a man with a giant walk-in closet needed a wardrobe.
Now I know.
The wardrobe is filled with…implements. Braden returns to the bed with what appears to be a step stool, only it’s not high enough to help anyone but the tallest person reach something. The top is cushioned with black leather.
“Lift your hips,” he commands.
I obey, and he slides the stool underneath me.
Then he gazes at me, subtly licking his lips. “Very nice.”