With His Consent (For His Pleasure, Book 13) Read Free

meaningful. Something different than the waitressing jobs she’d held ever since she was old enough to work.
    But it didn’t matter now. Bryson had managed to blow it for both of them. She felt a surge of rage towards him. He’d said he would do better last night. He’d said he would keep her in the loop. Instead, he’d disappeared.
    The concierge did very little to suppress the grin on his face. “Well, it appears as though Mister Taylor is either out of the building, or doesn’t wish to be disturbed at this time. I think we should go now.”
    She was about to try and respond with a snappy retort when the door suddenly opened.
    “Hey,” Bryson blinked, as if he hadn’t been exposed to the light in months.
    “What’s the racket all about?”
    Scarlett spun. “Where the hell have you been?”
    “Sleeping, like normal people do.” He was standing in boxer shorts and a white tshirt, and he smelled faintly of cologne and alcohol. His hair was standing up in all directions.
    “Bryson, people have been calling you all morning,” she said, trying to control her fury.
    The concierge backed away. “This seems like a private matter,” he said, and then turned and left.
    “Thanks for your help!” she yelled after him. “Asshole,” she muttered.
    Bryson ran a hand through his hair. “Scarlett, what are you taking about? Who’s been calling me?”
    “Hunter. Me. There’s a meeting. We don’t have any time. Come on!” She pushed him back into his apartment.
    “A meeting about what?”
    “I don’t have time to explain. I’ll tell you in the cab, now get dressed, brush your teeth, run a comb through your hair. Come on!”
    Bryson seemed to get it. He whipped off his t-shirt and began searching for another shirt in his closet.
    His back muscles worked as he quickly pushed through the pants and shirts hanging inside. Scarlett’s breath caught in her chest, and she tried not to stare. Bryson’s body was pure perfection – hard chest, strong arms, and chiseled abs. There was a small tattoo of a black butterfly on his shoulder blade, which gave just the right edge to his otherwise pretty boy body.
    He grabbed some clothes and ran into the bathroom. Scarlett watched him go, noting that he also had a tight, perfectly round butt.
    Get a hold of yourself, Scarlett. He’s got a hot body, but he’s also completely and totally wrong for you in every way.
    She knew that. She hated that she had to even give herself this talk. How many wrong choices did one woman have to make before she learned her lesson?
    Hunter was dressed in no time, and surprisingly, he came out of the bathroom looking quite well put together. His hair was tousled, but in a “hey, I’m so cool my hair even looks good messy” kind of way.
    He was wearing a pinstriped button down shirt, sleeves rolled up, and dark brown pants with dark, new shoes.
    “Not bad,” she said. “Now come on. We’re going to be late—we literally don’t have a second to spare.”
    They ran out of his apartment and then waited for the elevator. He wanted to know what was going on and she did her best to explain. She told him about getting woken up by an angry call from Hunter, and Bryson’s face hardened.
    As they got into the cab and Scarlett told the cab driver the address, Bryson turned to her. “They’re going to fire me,” he said. “Aren’t they?”
    “I don’t know.” She met his gaze. “Good chance they will, I guess.”
    He nodded, looking out the window for a bit as they drove. Then he turned back to her, smiling devilishly. “But I’ve talked my way out of a lot of tight spaces in my life.
    I think I’ve got one more in me.”
    She laughed at his bravado. “I bet you have, and I bet you do.”
    “I’m glad someone has a little faith,” he replied. She had to admire Bryson’s spunk, even if he didn’t have the common sense to realize how much trouble he was in.
    They were mostly quiet on the drive over, and Bryson seemed in a world of