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“I hope you don’t.” Oh, God, how I hope he doesn’t. When his phone sounds with another text, I say, “Maybe you should check your messages. They might be important.”
He doesn’t move. “Nothing is as important as this conversation.”
I want to spend time in those words. And I want to stay in Bradford’s arms, but when his phone rings, I don’t want to come between him and the things that are important to him.
I move out of his hold. “Take the call. I’m going to get dressed.”
After locating my clothes, I spend longer in the bathroom than I thought I would. I need the time to catch my breath over everything that’s happened tonight.
My thoughts run wild with homicidal ideas about what I will do to Phillip. He must have intercepted that text from Bradford and sent the reply.
Nine months ago, Phillip and I were in one of our on-periods. As far as he was concerned, we werereallyon. I knew Phillip had plans for marriage early in our relationship even though I made it clear I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship with him. It was this agenda that always led to our off-periods because I had no intention of marrying him. Not when the only man I wanted to marry was Bradford.
I remember the night Bradford thinks I ignored him. It was the only time we saw each other at that time.
I’d had an argument with Phillip and was in a foul mood all night. When I saw Bradford, I avoided him because of that mood. I was also wary of a conversation because we’d fought weeks earlier when I told him I wasn’t ready for him yet. He was angry and hurt over my relationship with Phillip. I wasn’t ignoring Bradford at the gala that night; I didn’t want to inflict my boyfriend on him.
Phillip had overheard our fight when Bradford came to my condo to see me. He discovered our history and was jealous. He exerted an over-the-top display of possessiveness the night I avoided Bradford.
None of that night was good. And I can see how Bradford interpreted it in context with that text. God, how I wish he’d come to me over that, but I understand why he didn’t. Every time he’d shared his hurt and tried to get me to move forward with him, I’d pushed him away. I’m not sure I would have gone back for another round of pain either.
Phillip will incur all my wrath over this bullshit. And then some. It’s a real fucking shame for him that I’m good at getting in touch with my feelings these days.
I finish in the bathroom and go back into the bedroom. Bradford has left and I can hear him talking out in the living room.
He’s sitting in one of the armchairs, dressed only in his trousers. He continues talking while I walk toward him but by the way he watches me, I think I’ve got most of his attention. When I try to sit on the sofa next to him, he reaches forward and hooks his arm around me so he can pull me onto his lap.
The energy vibrating from him is all power and dominance. I’ve seen these qualities in him throughout the years. They’re his signature style but experiencing them as a woman he desires is a whole other thing. A thing I am all here for.
“Yeah,” he says into his phone while dropping his gaze to my chest. “You take care of that and I’ll do my research. Let’s get together tomorrow when I’m home. I’ll be back in New York by four.”
I watch Bradford check me out. When he glides a finger over my collarbone, I wonder how I’ll survive the minutes before he strips me again.
He ends the call as his eyes find mine. “How many dresses do you own like this one?”
I smile. “Totally not what I imagined you saying next.”
He arches a brow waiting for my answer.
Oh, hello Mr. Demanding.
“A lot.”
“Jesus. We need to get you some new dresses.”
I cock my head. “You don’t like this style?”
“I fucking love this style. That’s the problem.”
I brush my lips over his. “I’m getting more just like this one.”
His hand grips the back of my neck. Possessively. “They won’t last long on you.”
“I hope not.”
His grip tightens and he takes a moment before he says, “This is going to be messy, Kristen.”
I turn into him more and curve my hand over his chest and around his body. “Thisbeing us?”
