Working It

21

Emmy

Ben had promised that this evening’s afterparty would be much tamer than the crazy Fashion Week parties. Tonight was a private affair celebrating designers on the rooftop of the La Manufacture hotel, located in the textile district of Paris. Many of the major clothing brands would be there. Ben mentioned that Braydon was back in town for a shoot, but apparently I wasn’t supposed to get excited about the possibility of seeing him tonight. I assured Ben it had nothing to do with our night together; I was just relieved that I’d know someone there besides him and Fiona.

Ben, Fiona, Gunnar, and I rode together in a limo to the event. A smug little grin curled on Gunnar’s lips as he watched the way Ben pressed a hand into my lower back; anyone could see that his eyes and hands seemed to know me intimately.

Fiona silently pouted the entire ride there.

It was awkward, to say the least.

The chilly night air enveloped the rooftop. Strands of little twinkling white lights adorned the terrace, and the view to the city beyond was breathtaking. Tuxedo-clad waiters circled the crowd, holding silver trays of peach-colored cocktails. I didn’t know what they were, but Ben and I each took one.

He took a sip and shook his head. “You can have mine.”

I tried the drink. It was fruity and sweet. Delicious. “Happily.”

Gunnar and Fiona each headed off across the party and mingled. Fiona annoyingly air-kissed the cheeks of the industry people she greeted.

I spotted Braydon across the rooftop, leaning against the railing as he took in the views. I tugged on Ben’s sleeve and nodded toward him.

Ben chuckled. “Go on and say hi. I’m going to grab a real drink and then I’ll come join you.”

Braydon happened to turn just as I approached, like he could somehow sense me coming.

“Jellybean!” He carefully lifted me from my feet. And although I was double-fisting the two peach cocktails, I didn’t spill a drop.

I chuckled at the silly nickname. “Hi, Braydon.”

“Where’s your man?”

I nodded to the bar. Ben was on his way toward us, holding a glass of amber-colored liquor for himself and a bottle of beer I presumed was for Bray.

“Hey, buddy.” Braydon clapped him loudly on the back and took the beer from him. “Got her back, huh?”

“Yep. Thanks for your advice, man.” Ben smiled and pulled me to his side to kiss my temple.

I was a little self-conscious of him touching me in public. Fiona still didn’t know about us, and I was worried what she’d do when she found out. Ben and I had discussed it and decided to keep things quiet for a little while longer.

I noticed a glass of champagne marked with lipstick sitting beside Braydon’s empty bottle. “Is someone here with you?” I asked, nodding toward the glass.

His eyes went to Ben’s, and his expression looked pinched. “Yeah. London’s here. She just went to the restroom.”

Ben tensed beside me. Before I could ask who London was, Gunnar came to retrieve Ben. “There’s a designer from Gucci here, and he wants to meet you.”

“Sure.” Ben looked directly at me. “Is that okay if I leave you with Bray?”

I nodded. “Of course. Go.”

I eyed the champagne flute again. The lipstick was a pretty shade—blood red. I could never pull off that bold of a color. I’d look like Bozo the Clown. I tended to stick to sheer glosses mostly. “So, who’s London?”

“London Burke. Victoria’s Secret supermodel.”

“Are you two dating?”

“Not really.”

“Oh. Did she and Ben . . . date?”

“Something like that.” Ben’s ex was a Victoria’s Secret supermodel. Translation: Fuck my life. He didn’t offer any further explanation, and I didn’t press. There was something about the situation he didn’t want me to know.

London never returned for her glass of champagne, and Braydon did his best to distract me. He asked about where I lived in New York and talked about his drunken adventures over the past couple of weeks, but my eyes continually watched for Ben’s return. An hour later, with still no sign of him, I excused myself from Braydon. After consuming three of the little peach cocktails, I was in desperate need of a restroom. And I wanted to find Ben.

I ventured inside, used the restroom, and reapplied my lip gloss, studying myself in the mirror. I was wearing a little cream-colored dress with a scoop neck and the black pumps Ben has gotten me. I felt cute but a little unsure. I hated how working around models caused me to constantly need reassurance from Ben that I was enough. I turned away from the mirror, frustrated. I just wanted to find him.

Reemerging into the night air, I scanned the rooftop for Ben. It should have been easy to spot him in the large, open, rectangular area. I saw Fiona talking to Braydon where I’d left him but no sign of Ben anywhere. Where had he gone? I noticed two girls exit the rooftop through a door I assumed was a stairwell into the hotel, so I decided to follow them.

The girls headed down the flight of stairs, gripping the banister as they navigated the steps, wobbling on their stiletto heels. I followed them inside one of the hotel’s top-floor suites. It seemed the party had slipped into this space, too. Club music thumped in the background, and the kitchen counter was littered with liquor bottles, lime wedges, and mixers.

People stood talking in the living room, mostly girls in too-short cocktail dresses that were no doubt freezing outside. I crossed through the room, still not finding Ben. Blood pumped erratically in my veins as I realized a hotel suite also meant bedrooms . . . and if Ben wasn’t on the roof, and he wasn’t in the living room . . . Oh God . . . I felt weak, but I pushed my legs into action, heading down the hallway.

There were three doors—two were open, revealing an empty bathroom and a bedroom, and the third door was closed.

Not hearing any sounds from inside, I reached for the knob. It felt cool in my palm. I turned it slowly and pushed the door open. The lights were on but the room was empty. At the far end of the room a sliding-glass door was open; the sound of voices from the balcony outside drew me forward.

My stomach danced with nerves and my heartbeat thrummed dangerously fast in my chest. I was terrified of what I might find, but I had to know.

“Are you honestly saying you don’t miss me at all?” a female voice asked.

“London . . .” Ben’s voice answered, his tone a playful warning. “I didn’t say that.”

She laughed a soft, calculated laugh—the laugh of a woman used to getting exactly what she wanted. “Because no one fucks like you, Ben.”

“That’s a good point.” He chuckled.

“We had fun together, right?” Her voice had dropped lower, gone all sultry.

“London . . .” His was a soft plea.

I couldn’t listen anymore but rather than exit gracefully, I turned and slammed right into the glass balcony door, rattling it loudly. Ben turned suddenly and caught my eyes. “Emmy.”

I fled, feeling the first of the tears already threatening to spill over. I retreated the way I’d come, back toward the living room. I would hail a cab back to the hotel. Alone. Ben and London trailed behind me, and once we reached the living room I ran smack into Braydon.

He reached out to steady me, gripping my upper arms. “Jellybean? You okay?”

He must have come in search of us, and unfortunately he’d brought Fiona with him, too. More people had crowded the living room, like the party was slowly but surely moving inside. Braydon’s gaze wandered behind me to Ben and London and he winced. He must have known all about their history.

“Emmy . . .” Ben reached for me. “That was nothing, just London and I catching up. I promise you.”

London stepped closer on precariously high heels. Her dress, if you could call it that, was a swatch of red satin that barely covered the important bits. Plenty of cleavage, incredibly long legs, long blonde hair, and that red lipstick I’d noticed on the glass earlier. Tears blurred my eyes, but what I did see of her was stunning.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any drama,” London spoke up, sounding sincere. “I’m London.” She offered me her hand.

Oh God, she was nice, too. I just stood there, uselessly staring at her hand. Ben stepped closer.

“This is Emmy, my girlfriend.”

Fiona made a strangled cry at hearing the word girlfriend. I had to admit, it surprised me, too.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve never known Ben to have a girlfriend.” London smiled widely at me.

“Ben?” Fiona’s raspy, accented voice pierced the awkward silence. No one said anything for several long moments, but I could see tears filling Fiona’s eyes. She and Ben watched each other intently, her features awash in hurt. A second later, Fiona turned and fled, elbowing partygoers out of her way as she made a mad dash for the front door.

Ben gave me a sympathetic look then darted out after her.

Watching him go after Fiona felt like a knife was being shoved into my chest. After hiding me from Fiona all this time, he chose this horribly tense moment to announce that we were together, and then ran out after her?

My heart stopped.

I felt sick. Sicker than I had when I heard his flirty banter with London.

Black spots clouded my vision. Oh fuck, I was going to pass out.

Braydon’s hand lightly stroked my lower back and kept me from collapsing. London still watched me curiously, and the hush that fell over the room told me several others were too.

“Get me out of here, Bray,” I whispered.

His warm arm encircled my waist and he guided me away from the carnage.

The party on the rooftop had died down significantly, with just a few people lingering. Braydon led me to an out-of-the-way seating area in the corner. I stopped by the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack and two glasses. His brows shot up but he said nothing and motioned to a couple of plush chairs situated around a stone fire pit.

I sank into the chair and poured us each a healthy measure of whiskey. I wasn’t near drunk enough to deal with all the confusing feelings Ben stirred up within me. I’d told him I loved him, and he’d said nothing . . . and now tonight I catch him flirting with his ex—who, oh, happened to be a supermodel. Then there was Fiona. I gulped the liquor, just wanting to feel numb.

“Whoa, easy there, jellybean.” Braydon’s hand on mine stopped me from pouring too much into my already-empty glass.

I leaned back into the plush cushions, kicked off my heels, and rested my feet in Braydon’s lap.

“Are you cold?” He started to remove his suit jacket.

I waved him off. “I’m fine. The fire helps.” Little blue flames danced from the rocks inside the elegant gas fireplace, gently warming the air around us.

“Tell me how I can help. You want me to kick his ass?” Braydon asked finally.

I’d really just wanted some company while I got intoxicated, but his willingness to help made me smile. “You’d do that? I thought you two were friends.”

He shrugged. “We are, but I like you better. You have better tits.”

I still couldn’t believe I’d had sex with Braydon. That was random. “Nah . . . you better not. His face is his money maker. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for taking down his career. Of course, if you wanted to chop off his . . .” I glanced at Braydon.

“Baby maker?”

“Yeah.” I laughed for the first time that night. “That’d be fine with me.”

“I don’t know what that was with London earlier. I know he thinks with his dick most of the time, but he’s different with you, Emmy. You have to see that.”

I thought it over silently. I wondered if he was over London. She seemed like she was looking to get lucky tonight. “How many women did you and Ben share?”

Bray looked down. I could tell he didn’t want to betray guy code by telling me their secrets, but I also trusted he’d be honest with me. “Just Fiona and one other. A girl named Mia.”

So they hadn’t shared London. Interesting. “Was Mia a model, too?”

Braydon shook his head. “No, she was a girl in New York that Ben dated briefly.”

I winced. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse that she wasn’t a model. It might have been worse, because I liked the idea of being the first.

“For the record, I think he only shared to avoid getting too close to girls . . . he’s never been the type to want a relationship.”

The whiskey was working too well already, and suddenly I wished I was sober for this conversation. Did Ben, at one point, want a relationship with Fiona? I needed to pay attention and figure out all these little clues Braydon was dropping.

Braydon leaned forward and gave my knee a squeeze. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. He’s crazy about you. I know it.”

I sniffed. I wouldn’t cry. “Thanks, Bray. We’ll see.”

A short while—and three glasses of whiskey—later, Ben appeared in front of us. “There you are, Emmy. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I lifted my chin, glancing out at the city lights of Paris below. It might have been childish to ignore him, but I had nothing to say at the moment. “How’s Fiona?” My tone was bitter. I didn’t care.

“I wouldn’t know. I asked the concierge to see that she got a cab, and I’ve been looking for you.” He knelt in front of me. “I need to talk to you, please, baby.”

Dammit. The desperation in his eyes and the rough tone of his voice had all my resolve melting away.

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Braydon . . .” Ben tipped his head toward the exit.

“No, I want Braydon to stay.”

Ben’s gaze narrowed. “Fine,” he bit out.

I grabbed Braydon’s hand and gave it a squeeze. His gaze locked on Ben and he shrugged, as if apologizing. I didn’t want to kick Braydon to the curb. He’d been there for me tonight. And in our brief encounters, I’d grown to trust him. He was a good guy. The jury was currently out on Ben.

Ben sat in the chair next to me with his body fully turned toward mine. “I’m so sorry about earlier, but baby, nothing happened with London.”

“I heard you, Ben. You weren’t trying real hard to dissuade her.”

“That wasn’t it. Will you listen to me? There was nothing to dissuade, because she had no chance with me. I’m yours, Emmy.”

His words tugged at something in my chest, but I couldn’t be distracted by my pesky heart right now. “You were flirting.”

“No, I was trying to be polite.”

I rolled my eyes and emptied the contents of my glass down my throat.

Ben took the glass from my hands. “A second before that, I was telling London about you. Did you hear that part?”

“No,” I admitted. “What did you say?”

“I told her I’d fallen for a sweet southern belle.” Ben’s hands captured mine. “You’ve stolen my heart, baby. No one and nothing’s going to change that. I belong to you.” He brushed the stray tendrils of hair back from my face, looking at me adoringly. “I don’t want to spend a single day without you. I’ve never needed anyone, Emmy. But I need you. I love the way you take care of me. And I want to take care of all your needs. If letting this dickhead into our bed showed you anything, it’s that I’ll give you anything, baby.”

Braydon snorted, complaining under his breath that he wasn’t a dickhead.

“When I saw Bray’s hands on you, I wanted to punch him. I’ve never felt that way before. Sex was never an emotional event until you. I need you by my side. In my bed each night. The thought of my day without you to brighten it is the most depressing thing I could imagine. I’m falling in love with you, Emerson.”

My lips curled into a smile. My eyes met his deep, hooded gaze and for just a heartbeat’s time it was just us. No one else existed; no one else mattered. His palms cupped my cheeks, drawing me closer. His mouth stopped just millimeters from mine, his warm breath dancing over my lips. “What’s your middle name?”

“Jean.”

“Really?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m in love with you, Emerson Jean,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest. I’d waited so long to hear those words, and now actually hearing them in Ben’s deep, sexy voice, with his warm lips brushing mine, it was even better than I could’ve ever imagined.

“I love you,” I whispered back just before his mouth crashed against mine.

Ben lifted me from my chair, planting me in his lap, and kissed me roughly. It was as though he was starved for me. His mouth moved over the skin of my neck, my jawline, and then settled over my mouth. His tongue battled mine, sucking and tangling until I was writhing in his lap. My dress was hitched up my thighs and I ground closer, pressing my core against the straining bulge in his pants.

His hands moved to grip my ass and tug me against him. I released a breathless moan, my body shuddering at the contact.

From somewhere beside us, Braydon cleared his throat. Ben’s mouth left mine just long enough to bark an order to Braydon. “Get them out of here.” He nodded to the last of the people who lingered on the rooftop. Apparently Ben didn’t want an audience for whatever was about to happen. I was too drunk and too turned on to stop him.

While Braydon escorted the group to the exit, Ben’s mouth captured mine again in a devastating kiss. “I love you, Emmy. I love you. I need you,” he murmured in between kisses. The possessive way he said those words sent sparks of desire shooting through my system. I wanted to be his. My hips rocked shamelessly against his lap, my center wet and ready. The way his hands roamed my writhing body made me feel sexy and seductive. I was alive with heat and sexual desire.

When I found his belt buckle and began restlessly tugging at it, Ben groaned. Finally freeing the belt buckle from hell, I slipped my hand inside his pants and boxer briefs, closing my fist around his hard length.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned into my mouth as I began stroking him.

I stopped my motions long enough to allow Ben to lift the clingy shift-dress off over my head and deposit it on the empty chair next to us.

Grinding against him in my bra and tiny lace panties, I didn’t care that we were in the open night air or on a rooftop. Ben had just told me he loved me, and I needed him. Now.

The sound of a buckle unlatching next to us caught my attention. I looked up to see Braydon standing beside us, undoing his belt.

“Not happening,” Ben growled out. “Go guard the door.”

Braydon pouted but redid his belt and dutifully walked back toward the exit.

Not bothering to undress either of us any further, Ben fucked me hard and fast. He pushed the material of my panties aside and buried himself inside me in an excruciatingly slow thrust that stretched me so fully I cried out, the sounds echoing in the night air. He gripped my waist and lifted me up and down on him.

Whispering sweet and naughty things to me the entire time, Ben pumped into me. “You’re so fucking sexy. . . . I love the sounds you make. . . . That’s right, beautiful, I want to watch you come.”

Within minutes, his words pushed me over the edge. I came, loudly calling out his name.

Ben buried his face against my neck and groaned. “I love you, Emmy.”

I felt his warmth flooding my hot entrance as little aftershocks pulsed through my body.

Pulling some tissues from his pocket, Ben cleaned me and arranged my panties so I was covered once again. Just as I was pulling my dress back on, Braydon appeared.

With a large erection tenting his slacks. Whoa.

I couldn’t help but giggle. I guess I was still pretty tipsy, but I found that funny. Our lovemaking had gotten him hot and bothered.

“Are you guys fucking kidding me?” He adjusted his pants and winced. “Don’t do that shit in front of me if I’m not invited to play.”

I hadn’t realized that Braydon had been watching, or least listening from his guard post at the door. Oops.

“That’s never happening again, man. Emmy’s not your plaything. She’s mine.” Ben possessively pulled me to his lap again, nuzzling into my neck.

“You two are fucking mean.” Braydon sighed loudly. “I could go find Fiona, cheer her up. She hasn’t seen my piercing yet.”

My gaze snapped to Braydon’s. “No, Bray. Anyone but her.”

It was bad enough both Ben and Braydon had already been with her. Some tiny part of me liked that she hadn’t experienced his piercing like I had. If we were keeping score, that little thing afforded me extra points. Stupid, I know.

“You got it, jellybean.”

I fell asleep in Ben’s arms that night while he continued to pet and caress me softly, whispering over and over again that he loved me.