Page 7 of Bought by His Brother’s Best Friend (The Bennett Brothers #1)

FOUR

DAMIEN

The business meeting had gone better than expected. We finalized the Paris office acquisition with minimal negotiation. My assembled executive team impressed even the skeptical French investors.

Yet throughout the hours of handshakes and signatures, my mind kept wandering to Shane waiting back at the hotel.

Shane, who had surprised me with his boldness on the plane. Shane, whose smile had been occupying my thoughts for years.

I loosened my tie as the elevator ascended to the top floor of Le Royal Monceau. The suite I’d booked offered one of the best views in Paris—panoramic vistas of the city with the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

But I was far more interested in the man who would be waiting inside than any cityscape.

The key card unlocked the door with a soft click. I stepped into the marble entryway, registering the gentle jazz playing from the suite’s sound system. Moving further in, I caught sight of him, and honestly, my breath hitched.

Shane stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, silhouetted against the twilight sky of Paris. He’d changed into dark jeans and a button down and held a glass of wine, his profile thoughtful as he gazed out at the glittering Eiffel Tower.

He turned when I entered, and his smile warmed my heart.

“How was the meeting?” he asked, setting his wineglass on a nearby table.

“Productive.” I shrugged off my suit jacket and laid it over a chair. “But long. I kept thinking about getting back here.”

I crossed the room to him, drawn like a magnet. He met me halfway, and when I slid my hands to his waist, he leaned into my touch with an ease that belied how new this was between us.

“The suite is incredible,” he said. “I think it’s bigger than my entire apartment.”

“Is that a complaint?” I asked, pulling him closer.

“Just an observation.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’ve spent the last hour alternating between enjoying that ridiculously luxurious bathtub and standing here thinking that Paris at sunset is even more beautiful than people say.”

“It is,” I agreed, though I wasn’t looking at the view anymore. “Are you hungry? We could go out. There’s a bistro nearby that serves the best coq au vin in the city.”

Shane’s hands moved up to my shoulders, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. “Honestly? After that flight and the day we’ve had, I’d rather stay in.” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “If that’s okay with you.”

“More than okay.” I leaned in, brushing my lips against his. “We can order room service later.”

He responded by deepening the kiss, his body pressing against mine with delicious intent. The hesitancy from our earlier encounter was gone, replaced by a confidence that sent heat spiraling through me.

I slid one hand up to angle his head to deepen the kiss. His lips parted willingly, and I tasted the rich wine he’d been drinking, along with something uniquely him I was quickly becoming addicted to.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” I murmured against his mouth.

“Me too.” His hands tugged at my tie, loosening it further. “I kept replaying what happened on the plane and wondering what might happen tonight.”

I smiled against his lips. “And what were you hoping would happen?”

He pulled back, his hazel eyes darkening as they met mine. “I was hoping we’d pick up where we left off. Maybe go a little further.”

His answer sent a jolt of desire through me. I imagined Shane as more reserved, perhaps even shy. But the man before me was confident in what he wanted—and apparently, what he wanted was me.

“I think that can be arranged,” I said, my voice dropping lower.

I took his hand and led him through the suite to the master bedroom. The king-sized bed was already turned down, soft lighting casting a warm glow over the luxurious space. Through another set of windows, the Eiffel Tower was visible, now illuminated against the deepening night sky.

Shane admired the view, then turned to me with a smile that made my heart race.

“This doesn’t feel real,” he admitted quietly.

I moved behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my chin on his shoulder. “Which part? Paris? The suite? Or us?”

“All of it.” He leaned back against me, his body warm and solid against mine. “Twenty-four hours ago, I was just going to a charity event to support my brother. Now I’m in Paris with you, and everything feels... different.”

I pressed my lips to the sensitive spot below his ear. “Different good?”

“Different amazing,” he breathed, tilting his head to give me better access.

I trailed kisses down the column of his neck, savoring the slight saltiness of his skin and the way his pulse quickened beneath my lips. My hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one.

“May I?” I asked, pausing at the third button.

“Please,” he murmured.

I continued unbuttoning his shirt, taking my time, revealing his chest inch by tantalizing inch. When I finally pushed the fabric off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, I had to pause to admire him.

Shane’s body was athletic without being overly defined—strong shoulders, a light dusting of hair across his chest narrowing to a trail that disappeared into his jeans. I ran my hands over the warm skin of his chest, his heart hammering beneath my palm.

“Your turn,” he said. His fingers made quick work of my remaining tie and shirt buttons. He pushed both off with a confidence that suggested he’d been imagining this moment as much as I had.

His hands explored my bare chest with reverent attention, tracing each muscle as if committing me to memory. When his fingers brushed across my nipples, I couldn’t hold back a soft sound of pleasure.

“Interesting. You’re so responsive,” he observed, a pleased smile playing at his lips.

“Only with you,” I admitted.

Something softened in his expression, and he leaned in to kiss me again, this time with a tenderness despite the growing urgency between us. I walked him backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed, then eased him down onto the crisp white sheets.

I took a moment to admire the sight of him—half-undressed, lips slightly swollen from our kisses, hair tousled, eyes dark with desire. All for me.

“You’re so damn sexy,” I told him, meaning it completely.

A flush spread across his cheeks and down his chest. “So are you,” he replied. “I’ve always thought so.”

That revelation—that he’d been noticing me, wanting me, perhaps for as long as I’d wanted him—sent a surge of possessiveness through me. I lowered myself over him, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was more demanding than before.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer until we were chest to chest, skin to skin. The friction was exquisite, but not enough. I slid a hand between us to the button of his jeans.

“I want these off.”

“God, yes,” he breathed.

I moved down his body, pressing kisses to his chest, the definition of his abs as I went. When I reached the waistband of his jeans, I looked up to find him watching me, his eyes heavy-lidded and intense.

I maintained eye contact as I unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zipper. I hooked my fingers into both his jeans and underwear, and he lifted his hips to help me slide them down and off.

He was completely bare before me, and the sight took my breath away. Shane was magnificent—strong thighs, narrow hips, his arousal clear and impressive.

“Now you,” he said, his voice husky. “I want to see all of you.”

I stood and removed my remaining clothing, aware of his gaze tracking every movement. When I was as naked as he was, I rejoined him on the bed, my body alongside his.

“How do you want this?” I asked, trailing my fingers down his chest.

“I want to feel you,” he answered, pulling me closer. “Inside me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said, and the certainty in his voice drove away any hesitation.

I reached for my overnight bag beside the bed, retrieving what we’d need as Shane shifted to lie on his back, his legs parted in invitation.

I settled between his thighs, taking a moment to appreciate him—the trust he was showing, the vulnerability. I leaned down to kiss him, pouring everything I couldn’t yet say into the connection of our mouths.

“Relax,” I murmured as I moved my lips down his throat to his chest. “I want to make this good for you.”

I took my time, mapping his body with my hands and mouth, learning what made him gasp and what made him moan. When I reached his thighs, I gently pushed them wider, exposing him completely to my gaze.

His breathing quickened as I lowered my head. The first touch of my tongue against him drew a startled gasp that quickly transformed into a moan of pleasure. I worked him slowly, thoroughly, using my mouth to prepare him for what was to come.

“Damien,” he gasped, his hands fisting in the sheets. “That feels incredible.”

Encouraged by his response, I continued, alternating between long, teasing strokes and more focused attention. His thighs trembled on either side of my head, and the small sounds escaping him grew more desperate.

When I judged him ready, I reached for the lubricant, coating my fingers. I circled his entrance with one slick digit, watching his face for any sign of discomfort as I slowly pressed inside.

“Okay?” I asked.

“More than okay,” he breathed. “Keep going.”

I worked him open, adding a second finger, then a third, stretching him with gentle patience. I curved my fingers slightly, searching for that spot that would bring him the most pleasure. When I found it, his back arched off the bed, a broken moan tearing from his throat.

“There,” he gasped. “Right there.”

I stroked that spot again, watching in fascination as pleasure overtook his expression. His legs fell wider, a silent plea for more.

“I need you,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with raw honesty. “Now, Damien. Please.”

I couldn’t deny him anything when he looked at me like that. I withdrew my fingers and positioned myself between his thighs, lifting his legs to rest against my chest. The position opened him to me, vulnerable and trusting.

I coated myself generously with lube, then aligned our bodies, the tip of my cock pressing against his entrance. With deliberate slowness, I pushed forward, watching his face carefully for his reaction.

“Relax,” I murmured, stroking his thigh. “Breathe with me.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath as I continued my careful entry. The tight heat engulfing me was overwhelming, but I maintained control, determined to make this perfect for him.

When I was fully inside him, I paused, giving him time to adjust to the sensation. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“Are you alright?” I asked, concerned by his silence.

His eyes fluttered open, and the look he gave me was so full of pleasure and wonder that it stole my breath.

“I’m perfect,” he whispered.

Relief and desire coursed through me and I began to move, establishing a slow, deep rhythm that had him moaning with each thrust. The sight of him spread beneath me, taking me, was almost too much to bear.

“Shane,” I breathed. “You feel amazing.”

He reached for me, pulling me down into a kiss that was messy and perfect. The change in angle drew a sharp gasp from him as I hit that spot inside him with each thrust.

“Harder,” he urged against my mouth. “Please, Damien.”

I complied, increasing the force and speed of my movements, driving into him with controlled power. His cries grew louder, less restrained, and the knowledge that I was bringing him such pleasure pushed me closer to the edge.

I reached between us, wrapping my hand around his length, stroking in time with my thrusts. His reaction was immediate—his back arching, his muscles tightening around me.

“I’m close,” he warned, his voice strained.

“Let go,” I encouraged him. “I want to see you come apart.”

Those words seemed to break something in him. With a cry that might have been my name, he reached his climax, his body tightening around me in pulsing waves as his come spilled over my hand and onto his stomach.

The sight of him in the throes of such intense pleasure, combined with the rhythmic clenching around me, pushed me over the edge. My own release hit me with sudden, overwhelming force. I buried myself deep inside him, my vision blurring as waves of pleasure washed through me.

For a moment, neither of us moved, connected as intimately as two people could be. Then I carefully withdrew, collapsing beside him on the bed. I gathered him into my arms, brushing sweat-dampened hair from his forehead.

“That was...” he began, seeming to search for words.

“Fucking incredible,” I agreed, understanding perfectly what he couldn’t articulate.

We lay in comfortable silence for a while, our breathing gradually returning to normal. I traced lazy patterns on his skin, not wanting to break the peaceful moment with words that might seem inadequate.

Eventually, he shifted to look at me, his expression soft and open in a way I’d never seen before. “Thank you,” he whispered.

I raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For bidding on me. For bringing me to Paris.” His lips curved in a gentle smile. “For making me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. Which, now that I say it out loud, sounds very dramatic. But it’s the truth, honestly, Damien.”

Something tightened in my chest—it was too new and fragile to name. Instead of responding with words, I leaned in to kiss him, hoping he could feel what I wasn’t ready to say.

When we broke apart, he settled against my chest, his head tucked under my chin.

Outside, the Eiffel Tower glittered against the night sky, its hourly light show sparkling in celebration.

It seemed fitting somehow—the city of light and love bearing witness to something that felt like the beginning of something significant.

“We should order that room service,” I murmured against his hair.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Eventually, but not yet.”

I tightened my arms around him, content to stay where we were for as long as possible. Paris would still be there when we were ready to face it. For now, this room, this bed, this man in my arms—this was all the world I needed.