Private Scandal Page 11

  He cursed, then grabbed one of her wrists. “Put the condom on.”

  He heard her hair swish against her shoulders as she must have shaken her head. “It’s dark and I don’t want to do it wrong.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Seriously, I don’t have much practice. I’d need to see you and I like the dark.” She leaned forward and licked his earlobe again, making his entire body as tight as a fist. “It’s like we’re both blindfolded.”

  Oh, she was wicked. He sheathed himself quickly. Megan wasted no time guiding him into position. She wrapped her hand around his girth, rubbing him along her slick folds.

  “I thought you said if I got a condom you wouldn’t use me as a toy.” He clenched his teeth and wrapped his hands around her hips.

  “You like it.” She lifted and then lowered her body, sliding his cock home in one sure movement.

  Her tight heat clutched him, pleasure rocketing through his body. His hands slid around to her butt, squeezing the firm globes as she rocked against him, her breaths already starting to come fast and shallow. He helped her tip forward, knowing it gave her clit direct contact.

  She reached for the headboard as she rolled her hips, holding him within her as she took her pleasure. He reached up and threaded his hand through her hair, pulling her mouth to his.

  He’d kissed her too many times to keep score, but this held the excitement of the first and the passion of the moment and the experience of knowing exactly what she liked. A deluge of need saturated his mind, and he knew he needed more than her deliberate rocking. He wanted to dive into her, again and again, and that wasn’t going to happen until Megan found her next orgasm.

  With one hand still in her hair, he moved the other one to her breast, giving it a gentle squeeze before he began flicking his thumbnail over her nipple. She turned her head away from his kiss and rested her forehead on his shoulder while she ground harder against him.

  “Can’t breathe,” she whispered, but didn’t change her pace. He heard her breathing begin to stagger and knew she was close. He wet his thumbs and brushed them against her nipples. She cried out his name, tossing her head back as she took the final strokes towards her bliss.

  Her orgasm caught him in a vise, nearly pitching him over the edge with her. He wanted to, needed to find his release like he needed his next breath, but it was just out of reach. While he still felt the tiny quakes of her inner muscles, he rolled her to her back, still deep within her. He slid his hand beneath her knee, pushing it back until he could lever her leg on his shoulder.

  He slowly thrust forward, filling her to the hilt. He groaned in pleasure, then began the steady rhythm of sinking and rising. Megan’s soft pants turned into pleas of encouragement, her hair rasping against the mattress as she turned her head from side to side. He knew just what she looked like, her golden hair spread out on the mattress like a naughty halo, her hands squeezing her breasts and her fingers plucking at her nipples until they stood out taut and tender, her big blue eyes wild with passion as she swam in the sea of bliss.

  Like a freight train barreling down the tracks, his speed increased as he neared his own release. With each plunge into her, Megan responded with an “oh” that rose an octave with every thrust. She arched her back, her hips thrusting boldly against him. Her body clamped around him seconds before she screamed out in pleasure. With a rough shout, he surged into her a final time, his climax pulsing within her.

  He lay down beside her, pulling her leg around his hip to keep them joined for just a while longer. She leaned into him and shuddered, her breath coming in rough pants. He rubbed his hand over her smooth bottom, willing his own heart to stop racing.

  “I missed you.” She whispered the words, but they sounded thick and heavy.

  “Does that count since I’m still inside you?” He kissed the top of her head as she gave a silent chuckle. She swiped at her face and her body shuddered, making him wonder if she’d started to cry. Megan wasn’t one for tears or sweet talk, always being open and direct to the point of painful honesty. He didn’t want to even ask if she were crying now, because being wrong would mean giving her bricks to build the wall between them he’d been working day and night to bring down.

  Instead he held her close, breathing in her scent beneath the citrus of a new shampoo she must be using. He played with the strands of her hair until her entire body relaxed, leaning limp against his.

  “Brandon?” Megan whispered, her voice thick with sleep. “Did you pass out first?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Darn.” She cuddled closer and he folded her into him, trying to remember the last time they’d cuddled. She wasn’t one for snuggling either, but he liked this new vulnerability, this opportunity to take care of her rather than running parallel lives. This was the beginning of having everything he wanted.

  Megan surfaced slowly, stretching her naked body along the softest sheets she could ever recall feeling. She’d never been able to appreciate the importance of thread count until she’d realized the difference between two hundred and twelve hundred was worth the price.

  Memories of last night flooded through her, warming the dull ache between her legs and spiraling heat through her body. She’d forgotten the soreness that used to follow a night in Brandon’s bed, her body having accommodated to his size years ago. It was a pleasant tenderness, but one that made her glad to wake up alone and not from the gentle prodding that usually welcomed morning in his bed.

  Her stomach rumbled, bringing her mind out of naughty dreamland and into present time. Today brought many messes for her clean up, and she wasn’t sure where to begin. Brandon had called the coffee shop last night and said she wouldn’t be in today, but she had to decide if she wanted to go back to working there or the bar, where she was going to live, how much she wanted to owe Brandon.

  As she got up and started her morning bathroom routine, she wondered what Brandon wanted from her. Last night he’d seemed so completely the man she’d always thought he was that she’d made all kinds of excuses for his behavior of the last few months. It made no sense for him to be pursuing her when she had nothing to offer if he already had a mistress on deck.

  She filled the Jacuzzi tub and tried to put it all together. She’d really only seen a kiss, and while she was not okay with him kissing Gemma Ryan, or anyone else for that matter, it very well may have ended there, in spite of how she’d watched them enter his penthouse together. She hadn’t given him the benefit of the doubt, hadn’t given him any chance to explain at all.

  As she slipped into the water and turned on the jets, she knew she’d have to confront him sooner rather than later. She didn’t want to drag things on if there was nowhere for them to go. And she desperately wanted him to have an answer for everything.

  The water rushed around her and she hugged her knees to her chest, saying a silent prayer that she could have her life back. She wanted to feel safe and loved again, to have the shrouds of suspicion vanish and see things clearly. If only the niggling doubts would evaporate, she might be able to stand on her own two feet again without worry of being knocked back by yet another tidal wave.

  She turned off the tub and drained it, wrapping a towel around herself as she opened drawers in the master bathroom. All of her things were there, in the same disarray she’d left them in. As she rubbed her favorite lily-scented lotion onto her body, her confidence grew that another woman hadn’t made it into Brandon’s bed. If he’d tried to replace her, surely these things would have been among the first to go as someone new cemented her place in his life.

  She made her way to Brandon’s dressing room where she’d always kept a robe, her lingerie and a few things to change into. The small section beside his shirts was painfully empty. She knew that the other closet was filled with her things, but it still sent anxiety through her to know she’d been moved out. She checked the drawers in the chests at the center of the room, somewhat relieved to find the bottom drawer that she’d stashed hose and
jewelry in still held her things.

  Maybe being apart had been as painful for him as for her, maybe he’d only moved the things he’d had to see every day. If only it had been so easy for her to remove his memory from her mind. Megan tightened the towel around her body and walked to the closed door leading to the living room. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, hearing voices on the other side.

  She pressed her head to the cool wood of the door, but still couldn’t make out anything but the rumbles of at least two different male voices. Adrenaline coursed through her at the thought of being caught in Brandon’s penthouse in nothing but a towel. She’d be the talk of the town, but then she was already.

  There was no telling how long Brandon planned on talking, especially if he was working. She wished she had the day to waste lying about his room, but there was too much to do. She might be tempted if he had a television or a phone, but he always kept his bedroom distraction free. There wasn’t even an alarm clock on the bedside table.

  She could stay trapped, or she could hold her head high and move forward. Her stomach fisted as she turned the knob and pulled open the door, every inclination of keeping her relationship with Brandon private warring with her current need to stop caring so much what other people thought of her. Despite years of effort, when it came down to it no one held her in the esteem she’d worked for, and so their opinions didn’t matter as they once had. Her gaze snagged on the purple nightgown laying crumpled on the floor, but she didn’t have the nerve to put it back on. She could go out there and stake her claim on Brandon in the nightgown, or she might be able to talk her way around to simply using his shower if she wore the towel.

  With an arm tight around her chest, she walked purposely into the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Megan heard the low whistle before she saw Danny Reid turn his wheelchair to get a better look as she tried to slip into the spare bedroom with a minimum of fuss.

  “How you doing, darlin’?” Danny had always looked at her like he knew her secrets, and given that he’d been Brandon’s best friend for as long as she’d known him, she’d figured he actually might.

  Brandon stared at her, everything about him seeming relaxed and yet curious. He probably wondered how she would play their first display as more than acquaintances. It actually gave her some relief to know it was Danny. She’d always found his mocking wit playfully refreshing, as well as his blatant honesty.

  “Peachy, Danny. How’s your morning?” She tacked on a smile as if she weren’t standing in the middle of the room in only a towel.

  “It’s afternoon, sweetheart. You really need to convince this one you can get your own coffee so he doesn’t drag my ass up here for meetings.”

  She blinked, her gaze searching out the grandfather clock by the entry. Damn. Two in the afternoon. So much for her day. She turned back to the men. “There’s coffee?”

  Brandon stood and crossed the room, pausing to kiss her temple as he walked to the kitchen. “I’ll get it. You get dressed.”

  “Not on my account,” Danny said, leaning back in his wheelchair. “I rather enjoy the view.”

  Megan blushed, but gave a cute curtsey before rushing out of the room. Danny’s warm laughter filled the room behind her and she started to think that maybe this would work.

  She’d assumed everyone would accuse her of using Brandon for his money now that hers had evaporated, but Danny acted as if he were happy she and Brandon were together. Though of course, there was every possibility Danny hadn’t been the least bit surprised to see her and knew what she and Brandon had started long ago.

  She slipped into a teal blue sweater-dress that had been a little too clingy last winter. The knit of the material hugged her body, but not in the way that had once annoyed her. She ran her hands over her hips, wondering if Brandon had thought the weight loss was a turn on. She was finally as thin as she’d always wanted to be, but she couldn’t keep it up long term. In fact, instead of feeling svelte and healthy like she’d imagined she would, she felt tired and weak.

  Once her world stopped churning, she needed to get her health in order. She didn’t want to see Briana until she felt better. She’d watched her sister battle anorexia all through their teens and knew the lectures that would come if anyone ever found out she’d gone days on only diet cola.

  Tossing the unpleasant memory atop the pile of things she didn’t want to think about, Megan grabbed a pair of knee-high black leather boots and carried them into the living room. She set them on the bench by the door where her handbag had ended up last night. The two men were still immersed in business, so she snagged the steaming mug of creamy coffee from the table and gave Brandon’s shoulder a squeeze in thanks.

  Their conversation stalled while she was in the room, but picked up again as soon as she entered Brandon’s bedroom. It gave her pause, but she decided not to borrow trouble. She didn’t care what business they were discussing. They’d already managed to take controlling interest in Carlton International and had begun to sell off the subsidiaries. It was only a matter of time until everything was parceled out and she didn’t want to know the gory details.

  She wanted to get Brandon alone so they could talk about what she’d seen, about what exactly they wanted to tell people about their relationship. She took her time styling her hair and for the first time in ages did her makeup so that she looked and felt like she used to.

  Still, voices blended together in the other room. She didn’t have any more time to wait. If Brandon had more business to take care of, they would just have to talk later.

  When she entered the living room, all conversation stopped again. This time the air felt different, charged with something she didn’t want to name. As she neared the table, both Brandon and Danny slid paperwork into folders and closed them.

  “Don’t hide everything on my account, unless of course, I’m why you’re putting things away.”

  Brandon’s smile was fake, his dark eyes fathomless as she came to stand beside where he sat. “Not at all, we’re just finishing up for the day. Loverboy has a wedding to plan.”

  Danny shook his head. “I just have to fly to Vegas and have a good time. She takes care of all the details. You’re both coming, right?”

  Megan blinked, a little stunned that Danny had accepted her so readily, enough to invite her to his wedding.

  “I wouldn’t miss it. It’s not every day you can marry off your two best friends in one shot.” Brandon grinned, even his eyes smiling this time.

  “Well, you did have something to do with that.” Danny slid all of the folders into his briefcase and then snapped it closed before sliding it onto his lap.

  “When are you getting married?” Megan’s mind tried to figure out who he would be marrying. Brandon knew lots of people, but Danny was the only one she’d ever considered his best friend.

  “New Years Eve.” He looked to Brandon. “We should all fly out together. Maybe you can even talk her into inviting some of her other friends.”

  “Gemma doesn’t want it to be an event, just a wedding.” Brandon leaned back in his chair. “I know when my mom finds out she’ll probably want to hold some kind of reception.”

  Megan’s pulse thudded in her ears as things clicked into place. She scanned the room, finding her shoes and purse, but Cash’s leash was gone from the table by the door. Brandon must have given him to the pet concierge of the hotel, a move that would send rumors through the hotel grapevine. Everyone would know that she’d been here, been with Brandon. But the waves of impending humiliation at being used and discarded were nothing compared to the tsunami of pain drowning her soul.

  She looked at Danny’s smiling face, hating what she’d just realized, hating that he too would soon be mired in the despair of betrayal. “You’re going to marry Gemma Ryan?”

  Danny nodded and raised his hands. “I know you two aren’t the best of friends, but—”

  “She’s having an affair with Brandon.” Megan stared at Danny, wa
tching his eyes glaze over in shock. She didn’t want to hurt him, but a clean break was better than the slow, strangling end she was experiencing.

  “No way,” Danny said, shaking his head.

  “Megan, where the hell are you getting this?” Brandon had the decency to look confused.

  “I saw you.” Her hands shook as the memory replayed in her mind, an avalanche of misery hurtling towards her. Her throat tightened, but she continued, the words falling out of her mouth in a rush. “I came here for my birthday just like we had planned, hoping you could explain what was going on and figure out what to do next. Happy Birthday to me, I found you in the hall kissing her. I waited, Brandon, I waited for you to push her away, to tell her no, but all you did was open your door and let her in.” She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand, wishing she were better at hiding her emotions.

  “I can explain.” Brandon stood and reached for her arm, but she shook him off.

  “I’m sure you can explain it to me. You’re good at spinning lies. When you bought my family’s company without warning me, I got it loud and clear that business matters more than I do. But he’s your best friend, Brandon. Doesn’t that mean anything to you either?”

  “Is it true?” Danny’s dark tone turned both their heads.

  Brandon pressed his lips into a line and shook his head. “Yes, but—”

  “There’s no but.” Danny dismissed Brandon with a flick of his hand and started his chair towards the door. “I don’t want your sloppy seconds. We’ve never double dipped before, and I’m not about to start now.”

  Brandon followed him to the door, blocking his way. “It’s not like she said.”

  “Get out of my way. Don’t be an ass.”

  Brandon stepped aside. “Fine, but you have to listen to me.”

  “Only for as long as the elevator takes.” Danny wheeled through the door with Brandon two steps behind.

  Before the door closed Brandon turned, pointing his finger at her. “You stay right there. You’ve got this wrong.”