Page 67 of Guilty as Sin

When I’m seated, he places a large square plate in front of me. On it rests an Icelandic yogurt, a handful of strawberries, and a bowl of parsnip mash topped with a crisscross of bacon. He must’ve noticed how much I enjoyed the mash at the family dinner.

Brady takes the seat across from me, his own breakfast a quinoa bowl with a soft-boiled egg. The breakfast bacon pairs well with the parsnip mash, but the strawberries seem like an odd fruit choice, given the level of detail he’s been paying attention to my preferences. It’s part of his hyper-organization, absorbing every piece of knowledge he can and storing it for later.

“Not grapes?” I ask, which is what I’d selected for myself from our room service breakfast.

“I wanted to watch you eat a strawberry,” he says, completely without shame.

I cock my head at him, and he cocks his head to mirror me, being as condescending as possible. Alright, I think, let’s play. With my oversized knife, I pierce a strawberry near its stem, then lift the fruit to my lips. Closing my eyes, I suck on the tip and moan loudly. Across the table, I hear Brady take a deep breath, like he’s trying to steady himself. I flutter my eyes open to watch him watching me.

He looks ravenous, ready to sweep everything off the table again. As I take my time with the glistening red fruit, he leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. When I’ve finished my first strawberry, I flick my wrist so the green cap flies from my knife to the tip of my plate.

“Impressive,” he says, and I fight against grinning with pride.

“Was that a compliment?”

“Merely an observation.”

“And observation’s merely part of who you are,” I say. When Brady quirks an eyebrow at me, I elaborate. “Observation, calculation, preparation. You’re meticulous. You’re not the type to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“I can be. When it’s necessary.”

“When’s the last time it was necessary?” I spear another strawberry onto my knife, hoping to appear casual. Let me in, I want to say. I want to know every side of him, especially the dark ones.

“When’s the last time I shot a man?” he asks.

“When’s the last time you shot a man without thinking it through?”

“Never. I don’t kill on impulse.”

“Do you do anything on impulse?”

Instead of answering, Brady surges out of his chair and strides around the table toward me. I have just enough time to drop the knife before he seizes me and throws me over his shoulder like a fireman. My shoes clatter to the floor, and Brady kicks them out of his way without breaking stride.

The sheer level of his control over me makes me shiver with the anticipation of what he’ll do. I’m bent helplessly over his shoulder, his bare torso warm beneath me, his muscular shoulder pressing into my belly. As he carries me into his bedroom, he slides his free hand up my dress and tears off my panties. Then he throws me forcefully onto his bed. I wince at the impact, more out of surprise than anything, but Brady’s smoldering eyes go wide.

“Shit,” he says. “Your bruise.”

“I’m fine. Throw me down again and I’ll prove it to you,” I say, but it’s not the right kind of challenge for him. So I add, “For a big tough guy, your bed is astoundingly soft.”

He growls deep in his throat as I smirk up at him. He knows my buttons, and I know his.

Chapter 30

Brady

“Big tough guy?” I stand at the edge of the bed so I’m looming over her. I can show her big tough guy.

My cock strains against my sweatpants as Cora lies wantonly before me. She knows what she’s doing, wearing that sexy red dress I gave her. Cutting it short to make it even hotter. Her strategy is so blatantly obvious I should be offended. She’s as good as me at this game. Her techniques should be subtler.

As I watch her slide her hand down her stomach, about to play with her needy pussy, the realization hits me even harder.

She’s as good as me at this game.

And she wants to be my partner.

I grab her by the waist and toss her higher on the bed, up toward the headboard. I throw her so she lands on her ass, not her back. She bounces lightly, then props herself back on her elbows to watch me. In another blatant move, she arches her back to show off her glorious tits.

She’s good at what she does. Pleasing me. Gathering intel. Scheming and stealing. Enjoying violence. She’s an asset. And if I utilize her, if I do allow her to be at my side, those talents of hers would enhance my capabilities. She’d bring her own strategies, and I’d bring mine.