I raise my eyebrows. Is it really that simple?
“Have some fun, Skye. If this is just sex, accept that. Enjoy it until it’s over. You’re young. There’s plenty of time to find the love of your life. It doesn’t have to be Braden Black.”
But I want it to be.
The thought spears into my head on its own, jerking me by surprise. I erase it quickly. “No, it doesn’t have to be him,” I say.
“If he wants you back in his bed, establish some rules. No more kicking you out.”
“What if he says no?”
“What if he says yes?”
“What if he says something else?”
“What else is there to say? Either yes or no.” Classic Tessa. Always looking at things in a binary way. Everything is black or white, no middle ground.
“You’re saying I need to establish some rules?”
“Yeah, why not? You love rules, Skye.”
“I don’t love rules.”
She bursts into laughter. “You have rules for everything. You know what I think of your drinking rules.”
“Hey, my drinking rules keep me from getting completely inebriated and doing something dangerous.”
“There you go. So establish rules with Braden. Tell him if he wants you, he can’t kick you out and refuse to talk to you after sex. Seems reasonable to me.”
Seems more than reasonable to me as well. But will it be reasonable to Braden?
So much I don’t know about this man who rocked my world. Who continues to rock my world. My body isn’t my own when I’m around him. It responds to him in a way I’ve never experienced. I can act nonchalant, keep my voice dry and noncommittal, but none of that negates the physical response I have to Braden whenever he’s near.
Even when he’s not near. Just thinking about him here in the women’s restroom has my pussy tingling and aching.
I really want another orgasm.
I really want hundreds of them.
Tessa fusses with her hair a bit and then turns to me. “Ready?”
I haven’t touched myself up at all. “In a minute.” I quickly powder my nose and dot on some clear lip gloss. “Okay.”
As we reenter the ballroom, an attractive black-haired man asks Tessa to dance. She presses her evening bag into my hand and heads to the dance floor.
I head back to Braden’s table.
And gasp.
A beautiful blonde is sitting next to him.
Chapter Nineteen
I paste on a smile. “I’m back.”
God, I sound so saccharine.
Braden stands. “Skye, meet Laurie Simms.”
I hold out my hand, willing it not to shake, and glue on the smile once more. “Skye Manning.”
She takes my hand and gives it a strong shake. “Braden was just telling me about you. You work for Addison Ames?”
“I do.”
“She’s a doll. Please have a seat.”
Except she’s sitting in the seat I vacated only minutes ago. Braden holds out the chair on his other side. I suppose I can’t expect him to be rude and make the other woman move, though I secretly wish he would. Who is Laurie Simms anyway?
I sit. The extra bourbon is within reach.
Yeah, I take it. This seems like a four-drink kind of night.
“Addie and I go way back,” Laurie says. “I used to work for her father.”
“Oh?” I say. “What do you do?”
“I’m an attorney.” She slides a card over to me.
Nice promo. Slick. Though I have no need of an attorney, and I’m sure I can’t afford her anyway.
“I interned with Brock Ames when I was in law school. He got me set up with my current firm.”
I didn’t recall asking, but good to know.
“So how do you two know each other?” I ask sweetly.
“We don’t, actually,” Braden says.
“Oh?”
“Shameless self-promotion.” Laurie smiles. “Of course I recognized Braden and had to come introduce myself.”
“As I said, Ms. Simms, I’m happy with my current representation.”
She stands. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. Nice to meet you, Skye.”
“You too.” I smile again. This time it’s genuine.
Laurie is blond and beautiful and also very nice. I berate myself for questioning her motives. She’s not after Braden. She’s after his business.
“Thanks,” Braden says.
“For what?”
“For getting back here. Seemed like you were gone forever. When I’m alone, people pounce. Laurie is the umpteenth person who came up to me while you were gone.”
“Were the others beautiful females as well?”
He smiles. “Does it matter?”
How am I supposed to answer that? Yes, it matters, because I’m experiencing petty jealousy that nauseates me. Or no, it doesn’t matter, which is a big damned lie.
“I suppose not.” Back to trying to sound nonchalant.
“One was Peter Reardon. Apparently he was waiting outside the ballroom, and when he saw you and Tessa leave, he came back in and sought me out. He apologized for dancing with you.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. That’s ridiculous. He had a perfect right to dance with me. I enjoyed his company.”
“I’m sure he enjoyed yours as well. He just didn’t know you were with me.”