Wherever It Leads(69)

Fenton chews on his bottom lip, working it over between his teeth before responding. “Yes, you’re right. Just know if I can take you there or help you in any way, you only have to ask.”

“The only way you can help me tonight is by taking my mind off of it, okay?” I glance out the window. “You didn’t tell me where we’re going.”

“I’m taking you to Ruma,” he informs me, a grit to his voice.

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like taking me there is painful.”

Running my hands down my jeans, I wonder if I’m not dressed up enough for what he was expecting. I start to ask him to turn around so I can change when he speaks again.

“Taking you anywhere besides my bed is going to be painful. Do you have any idea how hard my cock has been since we got back from Vegas?”

“That must suck,” I say smugly. I watch the trees fly by instead of looking at him. I don’t want him to see how he affects me.

His hand drops back into my lap, straight on the base of my zipper. It’s like being hit with a bolt of energy, like getting zapped from an unruly light socket. My pelvis tilts just enough to increase the contact, and when he chuckles, the electrocution via man candy turns up ten degrees.

Oh, but what a way to go.

“Cute, Brynne,” he scoffs.

“What?” I moan as his hand slips under me and his thumb presses against the apex of my thighs. I bite my lip, trying to stay focused on his words and not his touch.

“Your little tough girl persona is adorable. Unbelievable, but adorable.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about—ah!”

He draws a circle with the pad of his thumb, a slow, torturous motion that has me falling back in my seat, dragging in hasty breaths, my eyes rolling back in my head.

“Don’t try to play coy with me, like you weren’t getting yourself off thinking about me.”

I don’t bother to dispute it.

“The thought of you coming without me irks the f*ck out of me,” he continues. “But I’d rather it be without me than with someone else.”

Just as the shiver rolls through my core and to my shoulders, his hand is gone.

“Hey!” I protest, sitting up and looking at his brash smile. “Why’d you stop?”

“Ah, are you frustrated? That must suck.”

“You jerk!” I laugh.

His lips twist in amusement and he nods to the windshield. I follow his gesture and realize we are pulling up to the restaurant. “It was you, rudo, that said talk before f*ck. I’m just following your demands.”

I can literally feel my heartbeat in my vagina, the throb so heavy that when the denim of my jeans rubs against it when I move, I nearly moan.

“Feel okay?” he grins, pulling the car beneath an awning with a blackout shade that surrounds it.

“Fine. I’m great. Fabulous,” I say through clenched teeth. My response is met with rolling laughter and our doors swing open. I take the proffered hand from the man in a suit and climb out.

“Welcome to Ruma,” he says.

The warm wind hits my face as I stand, the sun now dipping behind the horizon. “Thank you.”

Fenton sweeps past the front of the car and has his hand around my waist before I can get myself together. “Ready?”

I force a swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yes. I’m ready.”





The door swings closed, the sound of it catapulting through the room—the same room I had dinner with Fenton before. It looks exactly the same, from the décor to the server that just left after placing covered dishes in front of us.

I stare at him from across the table. He’s assessing me in his pensive way, fact-gathering all he can from my demeanor. I wonder vaguely what kind of data he’s getting because I can’t even figure out how I feel or what I’m thinking.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, his lips tugged up in a grin.

“Naturally.”

He laughs and reaches his hand across the table. He places his on top of mine, stroking my knuckles with his thumb. It feels good, simple—right. But I can’t get ahead of myself. I have to stay focused on words. Not touches.

“You know I’ve missed you too, Fent. Probably way more than I should.”

He smiles softly. “So, how is your brother?”

“I wish I knew.”

“No news?”

“No, other than my parents are pursuing a lawsuit against Brady’s employer.”

He pulls his hands away and cracks his knuckles.”What do they expect to get out of that?”

“We think they’re hiding something.”

I let my gaze drift to the dark waters of the Pacific through the windows. “When we were little, Brady was scared of the dark. I really wasn’t, probably because we shared a room in our little bungalow and he was my big brother and I thought he’d protect me if something bad happened. But he used to sing himself to sleep to distract himself from the monsters he was sure lived in our closet.” My heart burns with the memories, the sound of him singing the theme to He-Man making me smile. “I wonder if he’s out there somewhere now, singing himself to sleep, distracting himself from the real monsters. The worst part is, I don’t even know where he is. Is it dark there? Is he warm? Is he cold? Is he bleeding? Does he know we want him back? Does he think we forgot about him?”