The Wrong/Right Man Read online

I don’t hesitate. I lift my arms up over my head, and he lifts my tank over my stomach then breasts, eventually tossing it away. My nipples pebble under his gaze, and I hold my breath as he takes me in.

  “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” He cups both my breasts then dips his head, taking one hard peak between his lips. I whimper, sliding my fingers through his hair, then groan in frustration when he captures both my wrists, pulling them behind my back and leaving me completely at his mercy as he devastates me with his mouth.

  Panting for breath, I call out his name, and he stops to look at me. His eyes are so dark with desire that I know he’s feeling just as desperate as I am. I try to tug my hands free from his hold, but his grip just tightens.

  “Dakota…”

  “Braxton.” My chest rises and falls rapidly as he stands and walks across the room, carrying me with him.

  The moment my back hits the bed, he comes down on top of me, kissing me deeply before pulling back to look at me. “Keep your hands above your head.”

  My inner walls tighten at the command, and I lift my hands above me and watch him lean back then stand. I see him kick off his shoes then remove his belt and pants before leaning over me, kissing my stomach. He grasps my leggings at the waist to pull them down my thighs.

  I’m not ready for his mouth as he spreads my legs and buries his face between my thighs. It kills me to keep my hands where they are, but I do, and he rewards me for my efforts by sliding two fingers inside me and using them against my G-spot. My thighs shake as he sucks on my clit, and then my mind blanks as I fall over the edge into blinding white light that licks across every inch of my skin. I come back to myself as he kisses my inner thigh then my stomach and breast.

  When he reaches my mouth, he smooths my hair back away from my face, and I watch him smile. “You listened.”

  “I did.” I wrap my legs around his waist then move my hands to his biceps as his hand glides up my side, making my skin tingle. “I’m a very good girl.”

  “I think I should test that.” He kisses me before rolling us so that I’m straddling his hips, and feeling all that is him between my legs, I swallow hard. “Tell me you want this, Dakota.”

  I look into his eyes and know without a shadow of a doubt I want this. I want him. “I want you.”

  The moment those three words leave my mouth, he leans up to kiss me. Then for the rest of the night, we get lost in each other.

  ________________

  THE SMELL OF coffee seeps into my unconscious mind, pulling me from sleep. I slowly blink my eyes open, seeing nothing but the edge of my pillow and the empty expanse of my bed. I shift from my stomach to my side and bite back a whimper. I feel like I’ve been branded from the inside out, and every muscle in my body feels deliciously used.

  Braxton.

  I lift my head slightly off my pillow and scan the open room of my studio, in search of the man responsible for making me feel the way I do right now. When I find him in my kitchen, I hold my breath as I study him, wanting a moment to take him in before he realizes I’m awake.

  Even leaning casually, with his back to the counter, one hand with his long fingers curved around his bare hip and the other holding his cell to his ear, he looks like he owns the place. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but his lips are moving quickly as he speaks, and from his expression, it seems serious. Despite his intensity, Maggie was right; he’s perfect—maybe even perfect for me.

  I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt so at ease around a man. Even when Troy and I first got together, I was on edge, waiting to do or say something that didn’t go along with his plan and would piss him off. There was always a silent demand for me to act a certain way, because of his job and his father’s position.

  Last night with Braxton, I felt like I could be myself, like he wanted me to be exactly who I am. It was refreshing and freeing, and if I’m honest, he made me feel like I’m good enough.

  “Gorgeous, are you going to stare at me or are you going to come give me a kiss and get a cup of coffee?”

  I blink at those words and focus on him, watching his lips tip up into a roguish grin.

  “Umm…” I bite my lower lip then let it go to mutter, “I could use some coffee.”

  “Then come here.” He motions me forward with one finger, and I know that if he was any other man, I might not think that was hot. But coming from him, I feel my body respond.

  I toss back the covers, and cool air hitting every inch of my skin makes me freeze in place. I quickly pull the blankets back over me and swear I hear him chuckle. I don’t even look at him as I search the bed and floor for something to cover myself with. Not seeing anything within reach, I decide the sheet will have to do. I tug it with a grunt from the end of the bed and wrap it around me before pushing the covers back once more.

  I blow a piece of my hair out of my face when I stand then look at him, catching him smiling. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here.” He lifts his cup of coffee toward me and winks.

  I give him a nervous smile then look down at my cell phone when it lights up with an incoming message. I pick it up, taking it with me to my bathroom, and quickly put on a robe and brush my teeth. When I’m done, I look at my phone and notice I’ve got a few messages and missed calls—something that isn’t normal.

  The first text I open is from Maggie asking why I stood up Adam. The messages to follow are from Jamie asking if I’m okay. I shake my head in confusion and text both of them back, letting Maggie know I did meet up with Adam, and telling Jamie I’m at home and fine. Before I even have a chance to set my cell down, Maggie messages back in all caps.

  Mags: HE WAS SITTING ON A STOOL AT MY BAR ALL NIGHT, SO YOU DIDN’T MEET WITH HIM.

  I glance at the bathroom door as a heavy weight starts to fill the pit of my stomach. If Adam was at View all night, who the hell is the man in my kitchen right now?

  I text back as quickly as I can with my hands shaking.

  Me: Are you sure?

  Mags: AM I SURE? YEAH, I’M SURE. HE WAS WAITING FOR YOU AND YOU NEVER SHOWED UP, SO HE CAME TO THE CLUB.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, feeling sick.

  I couldn’t be wrong about the man I willingly gave myself to last night, could I? What the hell was I thinking? I didn’t really ask questions. I let him lead the way, charmed by his good looks and dominance. My throat gets tight as anger fills me from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair.

  Without thinking, I grab the knob and pull the door open. I storm past my bed toward my kitchen, willing my feet to hold steady as I move with purpose toward the man watching me.

  “Morning, beautiful.”

  My throat gets tight remembering how I got off to him calling me that last night.

  “Who are you?” I ask, shoving my hand against his shoulder with enough force that the cup filled with coffee he’s holding sloshes out over his hand and onto the floor.

  “What?” His confused expression angers me more.

  “Who are you? I know you’re not the guy I was supposed to meet!” I yell, and I see it then, a look I witnessed from him numerous times last night but didn’t dissect. A look of anxiousness, maybe even fear of being found out. God, how stupid am I?

  “Dakota—” He takes a step in my direction, and I hold up my hand palm out, not trusting myself to handle the pull I feel when it comes to him.

  “Just tell me the truth.” My hands ball into fists at my sides, and he sets the cup on the counter then leans back against it like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  “The moment I saw you, I wanted you.”

  My eyes narrow on his. “The moment you saw me, you wanted me, so you pretended to be someone you’re not?”

  “Yeah.”

  Yeah? Just yeah?

  “I can’t believe this.” I rub my hands down my face, wondering how I ended up in this situation.

  “Baby.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I hiss, dropping my hands away to glare at
him. “I don’t even know you.”

  “You know me,” he counters, glancing at the bed before looking me in the eye. “We definitely know each other.”

  “I thought I knew you.” I shake my head in an attempt to keep the disappointment I’m feeling from showing. “All I know now is you’re a liar and I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot.”

  “Oh yeah, I am. I should have—” I wave my hand out, cutting myself off before I can tell him that I should have known he was too good to be true. “You need to leave.”

  “We should talk.” He takes another step toward me, and I back up before he can touch me, catching pain flash through his eyes. But I tell myself it’s just my imagination. “Dakota—”

  “Please.” My eyes slide closed. “Please just leave.” I know I sound desperate. I feel desperate for this to be over, for him to be gone so I can forget last night, forget what I thought I felt and what we shared.

  “If I leave now, I want you to understand this isn’t over.” There’s no ignoring the threat in his statement. I focus on him, really focus on him, noticing his demeanor may seem relaxed, but his muscles are bunched like he’s just waiting for the right moment to strike. “We’re not over.”

  “There is no we. I don’t even know who you are.”

  “You will.”

  I swallow then take a step back when he walks past me toward the raised area where my bed is.

  I watch him grab his slacks and pull them on before picking up his shirt off the back of the chair in the corner and shrugging it on. I wrap my arms around my waist as he sits to put on his shoes, and then I hold my breath once he’s done and stands. I wonder if I’m making a mistake as he walks toward me but remind myself that he lied, not once but numerous times. He could have come clean at any point last night, but he never did.

  “Tomorrow I leave to head out of town for a few days,” he states, and my stomach drops at that news. “When I get back, we’ll talk.”

  “We won’t.” I hate the way my voice shakes.

  He closes the distance between us then reaches out to touch me, but I move my head to the side before he can cup my cheek. His jaw twitches as his hand forms a fist as it drops to his side. “I’ll see you soon.”

  I don’t respond. I don’t know how to. He stares at me for what seems like a lifetime before he finally turns to leave, and it isn’t until the door closes behind him that I’m finally able to take a breath.

  I take two steps, drop my elbows to the kitchen counter, and rest my face in my hands. I want to cry, not because I’m sad, but because I’m so mad at myself. I should have…. I don’t know what I should have done, but I should have known Braxton wasn’t who he claimed to be. I should have read between the lines and trusted my gut.

  The moment I saw you, I wanted you.

  Who says something like that? What kind of man even thinks something like that, let alone acts on it? Probably the same kind of man who wears a suit like second skin, drives a G-class Benz, and has a standing reservation at a place like Altura.

  My phone ringing from the bathroom pulls me from my thoughts, and I suck in a breath before I push away from the counter. By the time I reach my cell, it’s no longer ringing, but there’s a missed call from Jamie on the screen. I don’t want to call him back. I’m sure he’s talked to Maggie and is wondering what the hell happened to me, but knowing he’s worried forces me to dial his number.

  “Dakota, what the fuck,” he says in greeting, and I close my eyes.

  “What the fuck what?” I ask, trying not to let him hear in my tone everything I’m feeling.

  “I talked to Maggie. She told me you stood up your date, and then I haven’t been able to get a hold of you. I was two minutes away from calling the cops, since the fucking people at your building wouldn’t let me up to check on you.”

  Damn, I’m glad I didn’t give him a key. “There’s no need to come check on me. I’m fine. I just...” God, I hate lying to him. “I just couldn’t go through with meeting the guy she wanted me to… so I stood him up and….”

  “You don’t need to explain that to me. I was just worried about you,” he says quietly then asks, “Are you home?”

  “Yeah.” I look around my bathroom, noting the sheet from my bed on the floor. I pick it up and take it with me to my bed, and with my phone in one hand, I rip the fitted sheet from the mattress and take it to the washer just beyond the kitchen.

  “Do you want to eat dinner with me tonight before my show? I could get Chinese and bring it to you.” My stomach turns as I shove my sheets into the washer.

  “I have some work I need to do before Monday.” It’s not a lie. One of the products I will be selling Monday on air is making me nervous, since it’s a product that hasn’t been on the market long and how much I sell could determine if I get more well-known brands. “How about breakfast tomorrow?”

  “Breakfast?” he asks like he’s never heard of it before as I dump detergent into the machine.

  I smile, knowing he is never up before noon after a show. “Okay, brunch—a late brunch.”

  “All right,” he gives in, and I hear him let out a breath. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I close the lid on the washer, listening to it start. “I’m sure. Call me when you’re up tomorrow, and let me know where you want to meet.”

  “All right, love you.”

  I smile at that and head to the kitchen, seeing the cup of coffee there. “Love you too.” I hang up then dump what’s left in the cup in the sink, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and my ice cream from the freezer. I take it with me to the couch and look over the back to the city just outside the window as I flip off the top. I scoop out one bite after another, letting the cold chocolate melt against my tongue and knowing it’s time for me to give up on the idea of the white picket fence and Mr. Right.

  Chapter 4

  DAKOTA

  AN ANNOYING RINGING wakes me, and I fumble for my phone on my side table and force one eye open, trying to figure out how to shut it off. When I see the screen is black and realize the ringing isn’t coming from my cell, I groan then roll out of bed. I stumble to the kitchen and press the green light that is flashing on the wall near the door, and my voice comes out raspy as I say, “Hello.”

  “Ms. Newton, are you available to receive a delivery?” a man asks, and I frown, glancing at the clock. A delivery at ten till eight on a Sunday?

  “Can I ask what it is?”

  “Flowers.” He pauses then adds, “Lots of flowers.”

  Braxton. I close my eyes and sigh. “I’m available.”

  “We’ll be right up.” The line goes dead.

  Figuring I have a few minutes, I head for my closet and change into a pair of high-waisted leggings and a sports bra then grab a hoodie. I put it on before grabbing my running shoes. Just as I finish tying them, there is a knock on the door, and as soon as I pull it open, my eyes widen.

  There’s not just one person carrying a single bouquet of roses, but six men and women, each holding two large vases. “Where should we put these?” the older man in front of the group asks.

  “I guess anywhere you can find a free space.” I step back out of his way and wave my hand out to encompass the room.

  “Someone must really like you.” One of the girls smiles as she walks past me, heading into the living room, since the kitchen island and counters have already been covered. I want to tell her she’s wrong, but I keep my mouth shut, mumbling a quiet “thank you” as they start to leave.

  Once they’re gone, I close the door then lean back against it, taking in the multitude of different-colored roses now littering every free surface in my apartment. A card attached around one of the vases on the counter catches my attention, so I walk toward it and slowly detach it from the ribbon holding it secure. The small white card fits in the palm of my hand and is light as a feather, but it still feels like it weighs hundreds of pounds as I read the rough writing scrawled across the surface.r />
  You were mine.

  You’ll be mine again. BA

  I bite my lip and look around the room, unsure how to feel. Part of me is elated that Braxton didn’t forget me the minute he left; another part of me is holding on to the anger of his deception. Needing to clear my head and figuring some fresh air might do me some good, I grab my key pass and leave my apartment, heading to the elevator and taking it down to the first floor. When I reach the lobby, I wave at the doorman as he opens the door for me and look both ways when I reach the sidewalk before I take off on a jog.

  I pull my hoodie up over my hair when it starts to drizzle and run down the block toward the park, enjoying the cool breeze and even the mist as it brushes against my skin. Ten minutes into my run, I notice a black car with dark-tinted windows on the street seems to be following me. I shove my hands into my hoodie pocket for my cell just in case then bite back a curse when I don’t find it and realize I left it next to my bed. The sidewalk is quiet; just a few people are out, so I follow my gut and turn left when I reach the end of the block, noting the car mirrors my move.

  I pick up speed when I spot a drug store and dip inside, waiting at the door for the car to pass, but it doesn’t. It stops right out front. With my heart pounding, I figure it will take them time to turn around if I head back to my building, so I exit when the next person enters and run at full speed down the block and around the corner. I don’t even look to see if the car has turned around and I’m so focused on breathing and not tripping over my feet, I don’t have time to stop when someone steps into my path. I barrel into them at full speed, hearing them grunt as they wrap their arms around me to keep me from taking us both to the ground.

  “I’m sorry, so sorry.” I place one hand against a hard chest and attempt to push away.

  “Dakota.”

  No, it can’t be.

  I lift my head, coming face-to-face with Braxton.

  “Are you okay?”

  “W-What a… are you doing here?” I pant, trying to catch my breath.

  “Why does it look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he asks, ignoring my question, and I look behind me then along the street to see if the car is there, but it’s nowhere in sight.