Hot-Bites, Volume Two by Jenika Snow

3

Macy

The fact that I agreed to go through with this says I am either crazy as hell, or not as hard as I thought I was. Because I should have called his bluff, I should have told him to fuck off, that he’d have to catch me first and prove I did anything wrong.

But I just stared up at him and gave him my name, all but admitted what I’d done.

And here I am, trying on dresses like some paper doll, all because he blackmailed me.

Even though I don’t know Braden, I know the kind of man he is. He gets what he wants, when he wants. That’s clearer than the fact that I look out of place in this damn dress.

He takes no shit from people. And if he said he would call the cops on me, I know he would have. And no matter how tough I act, going to jail scares the hell out of me. It’s not enough for me to stop picking pockets and having sticky fingers, but enough that if he is willing to let me off the hook and all I have to do is go on a fake date with him, then hey, I can do that.

I stare at myself in the full-length mirror with the dress he picked out, wondering what the hell I am actually doing. This is so unlike me, and I’m so out of place here.

I’m a ponytail, jeans, and ratty band T-shirt kind of girl. But here I am, standing at some exclusive boutique that closed down just for Braden. I stare at my reflection in the elegant evening gown that costs more than I’d make in a year.

“Let me see,” he barks out from behind the curtain, his tone a harsh demand.

I clench my teeth together. I’m not used to anyone talking to me this way. It’s usually the other way around, where I’m giving the demands, I’m making my own way. But with Braden I’m on this whole different level. I feel so very feminine around him, as if I want to bend to his will, to just give in.

I grip the edge of the curtain and pull it open aggressively, narrowing my eyes as I stare at him sitting in the plush chair across from me. He’s leaning back, his big body in a relaxed pose. He looks good, damn good in that three-piece suit, his dark hair impeccably styled, his fingers resting on his chin, as if he’s thinking way too hard.

He doesn’t move for a moment, doesn’t even speak as he looks me up and down. His gaze is like fingers along my body and I feel my nipples harden underneath the silk of the gown. I curl my fingers into my palms, my nails digging into the flesh painfully.

I don’t like this reaction I have for him. It seems out of place, consuming. It’s not something I’ve ever experienced before. And not only does it arouse me, but it pisses me off.

I’ve never needed anyone in my life. I’m a foster system kid, bouncing from home to home. I’ve never had a family, never even wanted one. I also don’t do relationships of any kind. No friends. No boyfriends. Ever.

It’s just easier that way. It keeps you from getting hurt.

I’m young, but I’m street-smart, and I feel I’m years older than I actually am. I have to be in order to do what I do. To survive.

But Braden is completely different, my total opposite. No doubt he has had everything handed to him on a silver platter, has family money, and is obviously extremely well-off.

I’m gum that would stick to the bottom of his expensive designer shoe.

But he doesn’t look at me that way. He looks at me like he ...wants me.

Finally, he stands, and I straighten, feeling tingles race along my arms and legs. His gaze moves down to my chest and I know he’s staring at my breasts. I know he can see how hard my nipples are. I can’t breathe in that moment, not as he steps closer, not as the scent of his cologne and his overpowering masculinity wash over me.

He’s unlike any other man I’ve met.

Braden is wealthy but not arrogant about it. He knows he’s in control, and it’s that kind of power that turns me on, apparently.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs in a low, husky voice.

He lifts his hand and picks up a strand of my hair that fell from my ponytail. For a moment he just stares at it as he rubs it between his fingers, as if memorizing the texture. But then, as if he knows he’s in some kind of trance, he lets my hair go. A second later he takes a step back and that hard mask covers his face again.

He turns and looks at the sales associate, who stands off to the side with her hands clasped behind her back and her head lowered. She looks submissive as hell. And I wonder if I looked exactly like that just moments before, drunk from his very presence.

This is insane.

I am insane for how I feel for Braden. I know nothing about him aside from the fact he clearly likes to blackmail people to get what he wants. Or maybe it’s me he likes toying with.

Then again, I did steal from him.

I guess it’s par for the course, as if we’re equal now.

“We’ll take it. I want all the accessories as well: shoes, undergarments.” He glances at me and looks me up and down again, as if he’s visualizing me in those panties and bra. I feel my face heat. “Get dressed. I’m taking you to get jewelry.”

And just like that I find myself turning around, as if he’s the puppet master and controls the strings that are connected to me.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I’m in too deep now.