Chapter Twenty-Four

 

Holly

 

Brayden leans against the door in tailored black dress slacks and a white button-down shirt. The top button of his shirt is undone, and his sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms – the Brayden Anderson version of dressed-down casual. Those piercing blue eyes in that sweet baby face of his turn my insides into mush and set my heart racing. His face is as clean-shaven as I remember, and his hair neatly trimmed as always. It seems like months or even years have gone by since we last saw each other. But truthfully, is has only been a few weeks.

But we're so far from Vegas. We’re back in the real world now. And as perfect as things seemed there, as amazing as things might have been, and as much of a fairy tale as it was, things feel different right now. Things are different. And as much as I'd love to touch him or pull him to me and kiss him, it doesn't feel right.

Especially now that I'm harboring this secret. A secret that I can’t tell him and that he can't know right now. I know that I should, but the mere thought of it almost sends me into a full-fledged panic attack.

Instead, I keep my distance, not trusting myself to not fall into his arms if I he gets too close. It’s hard. So damn hard. My mind is screaming at me to stay away, but my heart and body are telling me to do the complete opposite.

“That's great,” Brayden says. “I have the paperwork right here.”

“Alright, great,” I say. “You came prepared.”

“Goddamn right I did,” he says, and I can't help but notice the bitterness in his voice, which makes me sad.

I should tell him. I need to tell him. But, I can't do it. I can't seem to force the words out of my mouth. I open my mouth to speak, to tell him – and then shut it again without saying a word, drawing a curious look from him. But, with so much already going on, this isn't the time or place. At least, that's how I'm justifying it to myself. Although it's relatively chilly in my room, for some reason, I feel flushed. My skin is on fire and my heart feels like it’s stuttering within my breast. It's not usually all that warm in my classroom. Typically, I keep the thermostat at a comfortable sixty-seven degrees, even in the winter. If I don't, too many of the kids complain about it being too hot, even though they're wearing multiple layers, like hooded sweatshirts with designer name brands splashed across the front.

Meanwhile, I'm usually cold. Especially when I'm in a skirt, like today. Despite the chill in the room, I feel beads of sweat accumulate across my brow and slowly roll down my face. Brayden gives me a crooked smile and shakes his head.

“What is it?” I feel the slight twinge of a grin forming on my face as I look at him.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me,” I urge. “I want to know.”

“Fine. I just keep picturing you in that dress I sent you,” he says. “You looked so incredibly gorgeous. I'm imagining what it would have been like having a teacher like you back in the day wear something like that. I probably would have gotten myself in trouble.”

My cheeks burn even hotter now as I recall the dress I'd worn for him the night we went to that sex club – Velvet and Leather. I recall the way he looked at me, like he was in absolute awe. As if I was the most beautiful woman on the planet. And I recall what we'd done together as we watched that other couple fucking for the audience onstage.

It's easily, the hottest, most erotic experience of my life and one I know I'll never be able to repeat. One I never want to repeat with anybody but Brayden. It's a special, cherished memory that I'll hold onto forever.

My cheeks aren't the only things burning right now though. Just the way he smiles and looks at me – like he's doing right now – does crazy things to me. And as he looks at me with that familiar light of awe in his eyes, I feel my panties quickly growing damp. The way his blue eyes drink me in makes me quiver and my heart race. It makes me feel like I'm some sort of goddess or something.

“Can I ask you one thing before we get down to business and move forward with our lives?” he asks.

“Of course.”

“Why did you leave Vegas without saying goodbye?” he asks. “After the time we spent together, I thought I meant more to you than that - as stupid as that may sound right now. But, I thought what we had at least warranted a goodbye.”

My heart skips a beat, and I'm frozen still as I look at him. I quickly look down at the ground, not sure how to answer his question. I know that he deserves answers. Brayden deserves to know just how much I think of him and how much he matters to me.

But, at the same time, I can't give that to him. I can't encourage him or lead him on. He deserves better. I want to tell him everything, but I don't know how much I can tell him about what's actually going on in my life. About my father. About Armando. About anything that is the shitshow I'm living.

So, instead, I do the only thing I can. The only thing that seems humane to me – I lie.

“It wasn't intentional,” I say. “My dad called and there was a family emergency, and I – well, things are complicated here. I haven't really had a chance to sit down and think about what happened. But believe me when I say you've never been far from my thoughts.”

“But you had a good time, right?” he asks. “I wasn't imagining the connection we had, was I?”

“Of course not, Brayden.” My voice comes out almost breathless as I speak. “I loved every minute we spent together, and that connection was very, very real.”

“So, where did it go?” he asks. “It feels like you're a million miles away from me. Like that connection never existed and I'm just a stranger to you.”

“That's not so,” I say. “That's not so, at all. That connection, it still –”

I stop myself from saying anymore, fearful that I've already said to much. That I've given him hope I can't follow through on. As much as I'd like that to happen.

Brayden pushes himself off the door, and with a cocky grin on his handsome face, closes the distance between us. He stands close to me and I inhale his musky cologne and feel a shudder pass through my body. I close my eyes and feel like I've been transported back to Vegas.

As my eyes are closed, and because the man apparently elicits a way more than normal carnal reaction from me, I start to think about the Velvet and Leather club again. Think about the feel of his body pressed to mine. The heat in his kiss. The taste of his seed.

“Do you remember that show –” he says, his voice low and husky.

“With the sexy teacher and student? Yes,” I finish for him.

“That was so hot.”

“It was.”

“Do you remember what we did while we watched them?”

“I think about it every night when I touch myself,” I gasp.

“So do I,” he says, his voice thick with desire.

“This room here, and us in it,” he says softly, “it kind of reminds me of that.”

“The thought has crossed my mind a time or two.”

Before I know what hits me, Brayden's lips are pressed against mine. I feel him pushing me backward, moving us towards my desk, his hands swiftly moving beneath my shirt. Our tongues dance together, and I can't breathe. My heart is racing, my skin is on fire, and I know I shouldn't be doing this. But, everything is upside down in my head and nothing makes sense anymore.

Brayden lifts me up like I weigh nothing at all and sets me on top of the desk. Something from the desk falls to the floor, spilling with a loud clatter. It sounds like my pencil holder, filled with pens and highlighters for grading, scattering all across the linoleum tile, but I don’t care. It doesn’t stop me as our kiss grows in intensity, the air between us growing hotter, and our hands roaming one another's bodies once more.

“Brayden, please –”

I start to ask him to stop what he's doing, to let me go, but I don’t get a chance finish my sentence. Brayden takes my pleading to mean something else entirely. And when he makes his move, I start to wonder if maybe that's what I meant as well. Kissing down the length of my neck, his fingers teasing my stiff nipples through my blouse. I'm breathless as I lean against him. I suddenly find that I don't know what is going on anymore. Not that I really care.

But then Brayden drops to his knees before me. I stare at him wide-eyed as he gives me a sultry grin and licks his lips. I feel a nervous energy coursing through my veins. The rational part of my brain speaks up, tells me that I shouldn't do this, but my need for him easily overpowers it.

His blue eyes stare up at me as he kisses my thighs, moving up higher and higher. Running the tip of his tongue along my skin, he spreads my legs open as he goes. His hand slips underneath my skirt and pushes it up around my waist, touching me through my panties, and drawing a sharp breath from me.

My wetness had soaked through.

Slipping them aside, Brayden slides a finger underneath the silky material of my panties and rubs at my clit. I bite my lip to suppress the moan building inside of me. Placing my hands on the desk, on either side of me, I brace myself as Brayden slides my panties down my legs and tosses them onto the desk beside me.

He doesn't say a word. He just lowers himself to my wetness, breathing me in and letting out a contented sigh before flicking his tongue against my clit. Arching my back, my hands find their way to his hair. I tangle my fingers in the softness of his hair, pulling it hard as he goes to town on me, kissing and licking and sucking my sweet spot. I throw my head back and push his face deeper into me, trying to control myself as I cry out.

“Yes, yes,” I mutter.

I'm desperately trying to remain as quiet as I can, given how many people are still in the hallways on the other side of that door. I know if I'm too loud, we’re going to be overheard and I can't have that.

School is out for the day, but administrators and other teachers are still around, preparing for the conferences later this evening. But Brayden's tongue feels so good, I'm not sure I can contain the screams building up inside of me. And when he slips a finger inside of me while he sucks on my clit, a low groan spills out of my mouth. Then he slips another finger in, drawing another groan from me, louder this time.

He fucks me with his fingers, moving in-and-out of my tight little hole with precision and dedication, never once taking his mouth off me. The combination of his fingers and mouth is electrifying and brings me to the edge of orgasm before I can even register what's happening.

My entire body from head-to-toe tenses as my heart speeds up and my breathing grows ragged, the fire between my thighs burning brighter and hotter than ever. As if he can tell I'm close, Brayden holds my hips tightly with one hand, keeping me from moving too much as he drives his other fingers deeper inside of me while sucking even harder on my clit.

There's a burst of warmth between my thighs and a flood of wetness a moment before my body explodes with pleasure. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, everything in me shuddering and shaking as I whisper Brayden's name.

He never takes his mouth of me, not for one second, until I stop moving. Once I've experienced every possible bit of pleasure, he stands up and looks me dead in the eyes. My juices coat his face, which he wipes off with his hand. He licks his lips and smiles before leaning in and kissing me once more.

I shudder as I taste myself on his lips. He pulls back and stares at me again.

“Dinner. Tonight,” he says. “I'll text you the place.”

I know I should say no. That I should decline the invitation, sign the annulment papers and be done with him. I can't keep doing this – not to him and not to myself. This has to end because logically it can't go anywhere else. Steeling myself for what I must say, I open my mouth to speak, shocked by the words that fall from my lips.

“I have parent meetings until six,” I say. “I'm free after that.”

“We'll meet at seven then,” he says, a statement, not a question.

He leans in and kisses me again.

“What about the –”

“I'll bring them with me,” he says.

He stands up, helps me back on my feet and gives me a sly wink before he leaves.

“I'll bring them with me,” he says. “And we can sign the papers then – if you still want to go through it, that is.”

He turns and unlocks the door, opening it and disappearing into the hallway without another word. And I stand there watching him go, unable to say a word. He leaves me there in my classroom, dazed and wobbly from the orgasm he'd given to me, awash in fond memories, and a deep craving for more.

And as I stand there, watching the door swing shut again, I try to get myself together. But then, a thought occurs to me. I can hear Brayden’s voice echoing in my head. If you still want to go through with it?

He doesn't mean –

I shake my head and a nervous laugh escapes me. Surely, that had just been a joke. He can't seriously believe that I'm going to not sign the papers to annul our ill-thought out marriage. He seriously has to want to sign it himself. I mean, all other issues with my father aside, there's no way it can work between us. Not from a logistical standpoint. He is based out of Austin, I'm in Denver. We're geographically unsuitable for each other.

But, we are oh so suited in other ways, another part of my mind whispers to me. I quickly shut that thought down, though I find it hard to suppress the smile on my lips as I feel how wet I am because of him. Yeah, we're well-suited sexually. And in a lot of other important ways too.

But, we're not compatible in a couple of ways that really matter. Ways that involve my father. That thought is enough to darken my mood and kill off that last bit of post-orgasmic bliss.

I quickly grab my panties off the top of my desk and slip them back on before I forget. That would be an embarrassing find for parents, I'm sure. Still, despite the sudden intrusion of reality in my fantasy, I find myself walking with more pep in my step. And, as I prepare for my meetings with parents, I'm humming to myself. I'm smiling too.

For the first time in days, I feel happy.

 

~ooo000ooo~

 

I walk into Lotus and have my mind made up that I'm going to tell him. Brayden has every right to know that I'm carrying his child. He should know. He needs to know. I take a deep breath and try to steel myself. To mentally prepare myself for what's to come. I keep telling myself that no matter what happens, good or bad, I'm going to be okay. Everything is going to be fine.

When I step through the doors of the restaurant though, I immediately feel out of place and overwhelmed. The restaurant Brayden chose is one that I have never been to, mainly because it's firmly outside of my price range. Although my father is well off – or at least, I thought he was – I never take money from him. I haven’t since I graduated from college and started teaching. I'm an independent woman and I earn my own way. The last thing I want is to be beholden to him. To anybody.

Which means, that Lotus isn't even a restaurant I can splurge on for a special occasion. It's not a place I even consider popping into for a quick bite. To be honest, I'm not even sure they let you in the door without proof you have at least one million in the bank. But somehow, I manage to walk through the large double doors without being accosted.

The place is small, extremely cozy and intimate. It's the exclusive kind of restaurant that only serves a handful of patrons at a time. The building is brick and used to house an old tire factory back in the day. Many of those features remain, including the interior brick walls, the exposed wood beams and the venting that used to heat and cool the place long before central heat was a thing.

The host barely looks up as I enter and doesn't even acknowledge me. I stand there for a moment and then clear my throat to let him know I'm still standing there waiting to be acknowledged. He's a younger man, maybe early twenties, but he obviously comes from money. I suspect he's the owner's son or nephew or someone important to the Lotus food chain. I can't tell you why, but there is somehow an air of smug self-importance around him that you don't pick up from typical employees.

“Yes, may I help you?” He sounds bored.

He stares down his nose at me, and gives me a once-over, his eyes roaming up and down my body. I'm wearing one of the dresses Brayden had given to me back in Vegas – a navy blue sheath style with white polka dots. It's Chanel, and from the look on the host's face and sudden change in demeanor, he approves of me as a person. I can't help but notice that he's also admiring my breasts, but I try not to focus too much on that. He's young enough that he could almost be one of my students.

“Brayden Anderson has reservations,” I say. “I'm his guest.”

“Yes, Mr. Anderson is already here,” the host says. “Right this way.”

I'll admit, when I picked out the dress I'm wearing, it was because I wanted to look nice for Brayden. I want him to find me attractive, and I don't know why. If we're annulling the marriage and going our separate ways – which we should since my dad is insisting I do right by my family and marry Armando – what does it matter? It's not like anything is going to come of it.

But it does matter. To me. Which is why I chose to wear one of the dresses he picked out for me. One of the dresses he said I'd look amazing in. I didn't have much time to get ready, so my hair is down, free from the twist, and wavy from being put up all day. It looks nice, and not nearly as crazy as it usually does. Thank God. I did have time to put on a touch of makeup, give myself a once-over in the mirror, and was good to go.

As I follow the host, my gaze falls on Brayden in the far corner booth. He looks up and I see the way he looks at me. His eyes widen slightly and even from halfway across the restaurant, I can hear his breath catch in his throat, and I know I've chosen well. He stands to greet me, his blue eyes drinking me in for a moment before he says anything.

“Wow, Holly,” he says, “you look absolutely ravishing.”

“Thank you,” I say and twirl around in the dress for him. “You obviously have exquisite taste.”

We stand there for a long while, staring at each other as if we're not sure what to do next. Brayden eventually moves forward, and I instinctively turn my face upward, so he can kiss me. Right on cue, he presses his lips and body to mine, and I melt like ice cream on a hot, summer day. I turn to goo right there in the middle of the restaurant. Hell, as his tongue swirled with mine, I forgot where we're at entirely for a while, thinking only of how his lips feel on mine.

But as good as it all feels, and as caught up in the moment as I am, I remind myself that this won’t last. And as I dose myself with that cold slap of reality, everything comes crashing back down to Earth once more. I step back and look down at the floor sheepishly.

Brayden senses the sudden change in me, cocking his head to the side and looks at me, a curious expression on his face as we sit down.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “You look like someone just told you your puppy died.”

“Maybe they did,” I tease, taking a drink from my water and trying to deflect the conversation. “No, really, I'm fine. Everything is just so weird right now.”

“Tell me about it,” he laughs.

Brayden leans back in the booth, stretching out and showing off that amazing body of his. It has only been a few hours since my last orgasm, and already, I'm craving more of him. Our server takes our drink orders and I notice a weird look on Brayden’s face when I just stick with my water. But the look passes as we make small talk. Brayden talks about work. I tell him about the conferences and how much I dread this time of year. We order our food and as soon as the server leaves again, we both grow quiet, the atmosphere in the booth taking a turn for the tense and awkward.

I stare at my chipped nail polish and wish that I had a chance to get a manicure done before our date. I pick at my thumbnail as I try to think of something to say – and come up empty. There's so much I want to say. I want to tell him how I feel. Tell him that I care about him and that what we have is real. I want to pour my heart out to him and beg him to feel the same way.

More than that, I want to tell him that I'm carrying his child. There is some small part of me that wants to tell him we can start a happy life together – just him, me, and our baby. I want to tell him how amazing this is and that it could be an amazing fresh start for the both of us. I don't know if even I believe the thoughts racing through my head, but there's a small voice in the back of my mind urging me to say it anyway.

In the end though, I say nothing. I just sit there, picking at my fucking chipped nail polish. The confidence I had earlier – confidence that I can tell him about our baby – has suddenly evaporated. Like a puff of smoke on the breeze, it's gone. I concentrate on my hands, trying to summon the courage to tell him what I came here to tell him, and find that I don't have it at all. My determination is gone.

“Talk to me, Holly,” he says, taking me by surprise.

Later. I'll tell him I'm pregnant later. Maybe over the phone so I don't have to look into his eyes. A couple of days from now, when he's back in Austin, I'll tell him everything. I swear it.

“About what?” I ask, turning my eyes up to look at him. “I'm pretty boring, all things considered.”

“You're the farthest thing from boring, I can assure you of that,” he says.

He takes a pull from his Scotch and then continues waiting for me to answer. He's obviously not going to fill the void and is content to wait it out until I speak. The silence between us drags on, the tension and awkwardness pressing down harder on both of us. Finally, after what feels like forever, Brayden breaks the silence.

“I know about Trujillo,” he says flatly and without introduction.

A chill runs through me and I look up at him, my eyes wide, and my heart hammering in my chest. I have no idea how he knows that name. So far as I know, it's a name only my father and brother know. They only told me about it when their backs were to the wall.

“What? How – I don't know what you're talking about,” I say, wincing at how unconvincing I sound, even to my own ears.

I push my hair behind my ear and let out a nervous chuckle. It doesn't even sound like me. Even I can tell I'm lying. So, I just shut up entirely, not wanting to dig myself any deeper than I already am.

“I didn't ask him to, but after I accidentally texted him pictures of you, me, and fat Elvis, my brother dug up some information on you,” he says. “And what he found is that there's a link between your dad's company and Gabriel Trujillo – of the Trujillo drug cartel.”

Hearing Gabriel's name instead of Armando's offers some relief. But only a little. The fact that my dad is in deep with a goddamn drug cartel is news to me and sends a bolt of fear straight through my heart.

My first thought is not about the drug cartel though, which I guess, says a lot about my priorities. It was if Brayden knows about the marriage arrangement my father had brokered with Trujillo. Which, would have really put a kink in things.

“Oh, yeah, that,” I say, trying to sound casual. “My dad's business is his business. Literally. I have absolutely nothing to do with that. I'm a teacher and that's that.”

Brayden studies my face, as if he's trying to read my mind. When he doesn't say anything, I keep talking to fill that void of silence. Because that's what I do when I'm nervous.

“I want nothing to do with his construction company, which is why I'm a teacher,” I say. “He's tried to get me to go into that field, but let's face it, my brother is the one who's going to take over the company once he retires, so I don't know why he's so insistent on my working for the company anyway. I just want to teach and be left alone. I had no idea he was tied to a fucking drug cartel.”

I realize I'm rambling but can't seem to stop myself no matter how hard I try. It's like my mouth is a runaway train or something. But, Brayden listens to every word I say. He doesn't stop me or tell me I'm wrong and should reconsider things. No, in fact, once I finish speaking, he gives me a small smile.

“I'm very glad to hear that,” is all he says.

“Why?” I ask. “I mean, what's this have to do with anything?”

Brayden hesitates, looking past me for a long time before his eyes turn back to me, meeting my gaze again.

“Because I care about you, Holly,” he says “And I don't want to see you hurt. Drug cartels aren't something to fuck around with and I want you as far from this shit as humanly possible.”

Hearing those words does something to me. It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I can breathe for the first time in days. Before I can stop myself, I start talking again. I hear what I'm saying and am mentally screaming at myself to stop. This time, I tell him everything.

“Well, even though I have nothing to do with his business, I'm still sort of caught up in the middle of his shit. There is one thing –” I look down at my fingernails again. “My dad is pressuring me to marry Gabriel's son, Armando. He says it's to settle some debts or something. I don't know –”

“As in an arranged marriage?” Brayden asks, his voice sounding tense.

“Something like that, yeah, I guess. I think of it more as selling me to pay his debt,” I say and look away. “He says Trujillo told him that if I marry his son, his slate is cleared. So, in essence, yes. My dad has arranged a marriage for me to cancel out his debt.”

“That's a bunch of bullshit,” Brayden growls. “What a goddamn coward.”

I bite my lip and close my eyes as I remember the awkward date with Armando my father had ambushed me with, and all the fear the man had inspired in me. I really don't like the guy, at all. He is, as Gabby called him, a slimeball. And imagining myself married to a man like that fills me with dread. I would almost rather be dead than be with somebody like that. Armando is not somebody I would ever choose to be with.

“I'm not sure if I really have a choice in the manner,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Brayden is silent for a long moment, prompting me to open my eyes and check on him. His face is tense and dark with anger, his eyebrows in a straight line as he stares at me. The look on his face isn't a happy one.

“Is that why you married me then?” he asks. “Because it was a way out of this shit with your dad?”

“What? No,” I say. “That's not it at all, Brayden.”

I'm taken aback by his comment. I feel completely shocked that he would even think something like that. He should know me better than that. And it's not like getting married was a pre-arranged plan. It was a spontaneous act of idiocy on a drunken night. That he would think otherwise, that I was trying to trap him, hurts me.

It also makes me wonder if he would think that I got pregnant on purpose to tie him to me even tighter. As a way to truly ensnare him. Which means that I can't tell him. At least, not right now. Maybe, not ever. I don't know what Brayden will do if he knows that I'm carrying his child. Not that he would physically hurt me, but for a man of his wealth and resources, I'm sure he could do things that would cause me infinitely more pain.

“I married you because I was drunk, as were you,” I say, my tone a bit huffy. “It has nothing to do with my dad and his deal with Trujillo.”

He eyes me for a long moment. “You sure about that?”

My jaw hits the table as I look at him. I'm not even sure what to say, and thankfully, the server brings us our food, preventing me from giving him the verbal lashing on the tip of my tongue. Being forced to take a step back gives me extra time to think before I speak

But, before I can explain myself, Brayden stands up from the table and throws his napkin down beside his plate. The look on his face is anger mixed with sheer disgust and I feel my heart shattering into a thousand pieces.

“Where are you going?” I ask him.

My eyes begin burning, and I know what that means. I'm going to start crying. Damn it. I can't cry. Not here. Not now. We're not even together. Not really. Which means that Brayden being pissed at me shouldn't matter. It shouldn't bother me.

And yet, it does. It bothers me on a deep and profound level. It's something I wasn't expecting and that scares me to no end.

“I need to get some air,” he says.

His voice is harsh and slices right through the core of me. Brayden leaves me sitting there alone, and I can't help but wonder if he's coming back. The people around me try not to stare, but you can tell they want to. We made a scene. And in a place like Lotus, that kind of gaffe is positively scandalous.

With our food on the table, I can't leave. But I also can't pay. There's no way I can afford it. I sit there in silence for what feels like an eternity. Just when I thought I could trust him, he walks out on me. Not that I should expect anything from him. I try to convince myself that he was a fling and nothing more. Just a fun time in another city, far, far away from here.

Just because a piece of paper says we're legally husband and wife doesn't mean we actually are. Truth be told, we are nothing more than strangers. A few glorious days does not a relationship make. We may seem compatible, but I have no way of knowing that we really are. Being caught up in the moment can really distort your view of a person. Make them seem better and brighter than they truly are. Make them seem more important to you than they should be.

Even as I run through the list of reasons why Brayden and I are nothing more than a fling and why I shouldn't feel anything for him, it sounds even more hollow than usual. I'm having a tougher time convincing myself of the truth of any of it.

My eyes fill with tears and my heart fills with sorrow and regret as I sit at the table, alone, scared – and trapped. The ring on my finger is the least of my concerns right now. The baby growing in my belly, the one I haven't told him about, is a worry so large, I might as well be carrying the world on my shoulders.

If he reacts like this to something he's clearly misconstrued, how is he going to react to that bit of news?