Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance (2 page)

Just before his face turned to look forward again, she saw the startlingly blue eyes, visible even from five rows up. How she could have mistaken him for Michael was beyond her. They barely even looked alike this close up. The nose was too pointy and lacked the beautifully dented flaw of the original. The mouth was full but had a cocky twist to it. He seemed like he was tall but, well, he was no Michael Wright.

Some women might have found him attractive, in a Matt Bomer sort of way, but again, he was no Michael Wright.

Right now, he was just a guy who had stolen her seat—
Michael’s
seat.

“
E
xcuse me
, I think you’re in my seat.” The voice was more than a little irritated.

Alex’s eyes slid over to the legs standing next to him, clad in tight, red, denim. Liking what they saw, they continued on. They stopped to linger on the inch of brown skin between the waistband of her jeans and the tank top underneath the lace top she had on.

Thank you very much, big bro.

When Michael had texted that he wasn’t going to make it to this little reunion, Alex hadn’t been too fazed. The two of them were ten years apart and Alex made it a point to be away from New York—and, more importantly, the Wright patriarch—as often as possible. Such distance didn’t encourage close familial ties.

“Excuse
me,” the voice said, irritation making the progression into ire.

His eyes wandered up to a face that gave definite meaning to the phrase,
you’re beautiful when you’re angry.
It had a nice oval shape that belied the obviously fierce personality just beneath the surface. The cheeks were round and high, on either side of a short, straight nose with an adorable round tip. He had no doubt that many a man had a strong urge to kiss that little button end. Which brought him around to her lips. Despite the atrociously dark, matte color painted on them, they were full and just as kissable. If her eyes hadn’t been glaring down at him, they would look almost sweet, with their warm brown color and full lashes. The full eyebrows—which seemed to be all the rage these days—were the most striking feature.

She was displaying the kind of enjoyable outrage that could only be met with a charming smile, which Alex was more than happy to offer.

“Well, aren’t you a nice surprise,” he said, his eyes taking one more turn up and down her body.

The brown eyes blinked once, twice, then reverted back to a glare.

“Surprise or not,
you
”—she pointed a finger at him—“are in
my
”—
the finger came back around to her chest
—
“seat.” Her words were becoming slower and more pronounced, as though Alex was having difficulty catching on.

It wasn’t that he was slow; he was just being deliberately stubborn. He knew it wasn’t his seat. The pecking order of the Wright family season tickets meant Michael, the oldest, got first dibs. Since Michael was out of the picture tonight, Alex had happily stepped in to take his rightful place. It was only fair that he get the, far superior, aisle seat as opposed to this usurper to the throne standing next to him.

“What is it they say about possession being nine-tenths of the law?” he pondered out loud. “Besides, you’re late. The game is about to begin, so you might want to take
your
”—he nodded over to the seat next to him—“seat.”

“He’s right,” a male voice in the row above them chimed in. “Maybe you could sit that sweet ass of yours down so we can all watch the game.”

Alex winced and gave her shrug. Devil that he was, he couldn’t help pushing her buttons a little more. “The people have spoken,” he taunted. He tilted his head around to inspect said ass. “Though I do have to agree, it is a delectable derrière.”

She instinctively placed both hands, palms out, over her backside as her facial expressions fought the battle between humiliation and outrage. Just as it looked like pure fury was going to be an interloper, Alex decided to throw her a bone.

“Listen, I’d give you the seat but I recently injured my knee,” he pointed to the leg stretched out in the aisle. “It would really help me out if I could keep it stretched out like this.” He offered an endearing smile, which he knew from experience would seal the deal.

The scowl remained.

“C’mon, lady!” said the man behind them.

She shot daggers at him, tossed a few toward Alex for good measure then sighed. She lifted one foot over his outstretched leg as she made her way to the seat next to him.

He couldn’t help himself. “My, my, it’s even better up close,” he admired, as her ass passed in front of his face.

He was rewarded with a firm stomp of her boot right on his brand new Converse.

“Ouch!” It really did hurt. What the hell were those boots made of?

“So sorry,” she said giving him a sweet smile that was almost as enjoyable as her anger had been.

Fair enough, Alex thought. He had stolen her seat after all.

S
he had been ignoring
him the entire first quarter, despite his best efforts. During the two minute break before the second quarter he made another futile attempt.

“Alex, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.

Nervy. She’d give him that. She wouldn’t, however, give him the benefit of a response. Most women would have been attracted to the face alone. The body, which was surprisingly well built under that t-shirt and jeans of his, didn’t hurt either. Tonight, Brooklyn only had one man on her mind. She replayed the fantasy she’d had while she stood right in his office. It was infiltrated by the irritating voice to her right.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he pouted, but she could hear the taunt in his voice. “If we’re going to be here all night, we should at least get to be friends.”

“Or,” she finally sighed. “We could watch the rest of the game and remain perfect strangers. Why don’t you make small talk with your buddy behind us?” she nodded her head in the direction of the asshole with the uncensored mouth.

“Yes, his remarks were clearly out of line.”

It sounded almost sincere enough for Brooklyn to turn a cynical eye toward “Alex,” as though he hadn’t completely helped to encourage the man. She saw the slight curl of his lips as she looked his way and she immediately turned back toward the empty court.

“Let me at least buy you a drink to make up for it,” he offered.

That was enough to rekindle her interest. The second he got out of his seat, she’d take back what was rightfully hers.

“Sure, I’ll take a coke,” she smiled.

He looked momentarily confused, which transitioned into a grin of appreciation for her little ploy. “Actually, I was talking about after the game, but I have to admire your womanly wiles.” He gave her a wink and she rolled her eyes back to the court.

“Well, even if you aren’t going to talk to me, I have to say you are a refreshing change from the man who usually sits here.”

That piqued her interest. Before she could hide her eagerness she turned to him and blurted out, “You know him?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sudden acknowledgement of his existence. Then that grin crept in as he realized he had just hooked her. Brooklyn could already tell he was going to string her along with it, but she didn’t care.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I
know
him,” he confessed. He quickly recovered as he saw the curtain of disinterest fall over her eyes, “I mean sure, I know who Michael Wright is; most people do—or at least who his father is. And yeah, I’ve talked to him. Frankly, he seems like a real stick in the mud; incredibly boring.”

She could see him gauging her reaction. She gave him a smirk. “Why? Because he’s actually mature, and considerate, and polite, and, most importantly would never steal a seat from someone else?”

He leaned his head to the side to assess her with a teasing grin. “You have a crush on him, don’t you?”

Brooklyn gave a sharp laugh. “What am I, fourteen? Crushes are for girls. I just…admire him.” She certainly wasn’t going to clue this guy in on the fact that she was completely in love with the man.

“Admire...,”
he mused, nodding his head with a grin. “Well, aren’t you a bit young to be
admiring
someone that old? What is he, 40? 45?”

“He is
not
45,” Brooklyn shot back.

Alex just laughed. Brooklyn frowned and turned back to the game which was starting back up.

“Hey, hey,” Alex said, still chuckling as he tried to capture her attention again. “You’re obviously into the guy, and I’m here to help you out. It’s the least I can do.”

Brooklyn refused to take the bait this time.

“You know who he is, right? Why would you want to be associated with that family anyway?” he prodded. “Is it the money? Fame?”

That was enough to spur her. “Why do men always assume women are only after their money?”

“Because they always are!” he laughed.

“So, I couldn’t possibly just be attracted to the fact that he’s…perfect in every way,” she smiled off into the distance. She brought her attention back to Alex, who now had a speculative look about him. “And he’s most certainly
nothing
like his buffoon of a father.”

Alex barked out another round of laughter at that.

“So it’s not the money, or his family…it’s just that he’s ‘perfect in every way’” he brought his fingers up in air quotes with a teasing smile. “You sound like someone ready to settle down. Shame.”

Brooklyn frowned again and turned her attention to the game. Why in the world was she even indulging this guy?

“Shouldn’t you be having a bit of fun in life instead?”

She was startled at how close to her ear he was.

“Jesus!” she shouted, pressing a hand to his—impressively firm—chest. “Personal space, dude.”

He pressed back into her, obviously enjoying the feel of her hand on his chest. She dropped it and moved back herself, until she bumped into the man on the other side of her.

“How about this?” he suggested. “I’ve got no plans for the rest of the night”—she gave him a disparaging look, which he ignored—“Come with me to that new club,
Jealous
. I’ll buy you that drink I owe you and you can pump me,” his eyes wandered up and down her body, “for information about your guy.”

“Jealous?”
Brooklyn asked, eyeing him up and down, her interest slightly piqued again. She’d heard of the trendy new club, but had never been since it was far too competitive to get into. “Aren’t we both a bit under-dressed?”

He shrugged. “I know the bouncer.”

“Un-huh?” she said, smiling despite herself.

“Yeah. You can get your stalker fix and I get…well, we’ll just see where the night goes.” Once again his eyes wandered over her.

So pathetically obvious.

She was just about to laugh and tell him thanks, but no thanks, when he grabbed her and pressed his lips against hers. She was so startled she didn’t react. One hand went underneath her mass of natural curls to the back of her neck. It caressed the skin so smoothly that shivers went down her spine. The other hand slid around down her back and planted itself just above the waistband of her jeans, bringing her closer to him.

It was the lips that did it; so soft and commanding. They gently urged hers open until she had the first taste of his tongue. It sent instant sparks straight to her clit and she clamped her thighs together to keep from trembling. The lips did a slow, sensuous dance against hers, as if conjuring up some magic spell to counter the logical part of her brain telling her to end this—
now!

But she couldn’t break away.

The thumb on the back of her neck traced her hairline until it reached the sensitive spot behind her ear. As if completely tuned in to her body, it caressed the area, the slightest touch on her lobe causing her to gasp against his mouth. His hand on her back moved lower until it was firmly planted on her ass. It gave a soft squeeze in response to her gasp.

She could hear the roar of the crowd as they cheered jubilantly for some reason. In her head it sounded far away, like she was hearing it through a cloud. Her mind was focused on the moment and the muddled thoughts running through her head. The kiss. The feel of his warm hand on her neck. The way the other cupped her ass. The closeness of his hard body against her. Alex. Michael.

Before she could come to the conclusion that this was a definite betrayal of the man whose ticket she was using, Alex broke away.

He kept his hand on her neck as he grinned down at her.

She was still too stunned to have a reaction.

“Kiss cam,” he said, pointing past her shoulder.

She turned to see the large screen, where another couple was now dutifully pecking one another on the lips in a far less passionate moment. The comparably lackluster response of the crowd was telling enough. So that’s what they had been cheering at.

She turned back to him in a daze. She wanted more. She also wanted to slap him.

“Way to go, pal!” laughed her nemesis in the row above. “That’s how you keep ‘em in line!”

That was enough to help her decide.