Page 17 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

She tastes like coffee and mint, and something else I can’t name—something that makes me want to drag this out, take my time, learn every damn detail about how she fits against me. But time isn’t on our side.

I press her back against the wall, careful not to slam her into the shelf behind us. One hand finds her hip, the other fists her blouse. She gasps into my mouth, soft and startled and so goddamn sexy I forget how to breathe.

“Are you sure?” I ask, hoarse.

She nods. “Yes. Please.”

Fuck. That’s all I need.

I kiss her again—deeper this time, slower—until she whimpers and clutches my shirt like it’s the only thing holding her up. My thigh slips between hers, and she shifts just enough to grind against me. It’s maddening, the way her body moves like it knows exactly what I need.

I pull her blouse from her skirt, slide my hand underneath, fingertips skating up her spine. Her skin is warm, soft. My palmcovers the dip at the base of her back, pressing her to me as I kiss her jaw, her throat, the spot just under her ear that makes her tremble.

She’s so responsive, it drives me insane.

“You’ve been making me crazy,” I mutter against her neck.

“Likewise.” God. Her voice. When she’s aroused, it’s raspy. I fucking love that.

I tug her skirt higher, fingers grazing the lace band of her underwear. Her breath hitches, and I swear I feel it in my chest. She’s already half undone, cheeks flushed, lips parted, pupils blown wide.

I slide my hand between her legs. She’s soaked. My self-control snaps.

We don’t have long—someone could come by, someone could knock—but in this moment, nothing matters except the fact that I’m making her fall apart in my arms. She wraps one leg around my hip, and I thrust into her, our bodies flush, her head tipping back against the wall. I don’t know what hits me first—her heat, her slickness, the fit—and my brain shorts out when I pick her up and her other leg wraps around my hip too.

“I’ve wanted this since the second I saw you at that desk,” I growl.

She moans. “Then shut up and take it.”

I chuckle, low and dark. “Yes, ma’am.”

The rest blurs. Hands. Skin. Her body clenching around my shaft, her hips rocking against me, my name leaving her lips ina breathy curse. She’s so fucking hot like this—messy, wild, no filter. I devour her cries, one after another.

When she comes, it’s with a soft cry muffled into my shoulder. Her whole body shudders against me, and I hold her through it, breathing hard, heart thudding like I just ran a marathon. The fading pulse of her orgasm triggers my own, so I shove deep, sealing us together. The shock of it steals my breath. This happened so fast, nothing like I normally prefer. But I couldn’t help it. Not when it comes to Parker. My forehead rests against hers as we both come back to earth.

And then?—

Silence.

Not the bad kind. Just the kind that makes you realize what you’ve done. What it means. What the fuck it changes. I step back first, tucking myself in, adjusting my shirt. She smooths her skirt and pulls her blouse down, cheeks still flushed, lips redder than before. She doesn’t look ashamed. She doesn’t look scared.

But she doesn’t meet my eyes either. That hurts more than it should.

“I, uh…I should probably?—”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “I know.”

She reaches for the doorknob. Hesitates.

“Thank you,” she says, voice soft. “For…that.”

That?

Christ.

“Anytime,” I manage, because I don’t know what else to say.

She slips out the door and disappears down the hall without looking back. And I just stand there, staring at the spot where she was, wondering what the hell I’ve just done.