by Marie Carnay
“The same, right?”
“Yep. Clark and Mitchell Hill.” Harlow picked up her glass and swirled the red wine before sipping. “Not the best endorsement for a business you want to buy, is it?”
Foster tilted his head. “I wouldn’t say that. You managed to match not just one man, but two. What other matchmaker is that successful?”
Harlow didn’t respond. Instead, she took another sip, her cheeks coloring almost as deep as the Merlot. What a woman.
Not only did she manage to work a day job coding websites all day and dealing with a boss who exemplified the worst in middle management, but she turned a double-booked blind date into a happily-ever-after threesome.
Foster glanced at Dixon. He knew his business partner wanted Harlow’s body and her business, but did he want more? Probably not. Even if some part of him did, Dixon Swift never went down that road. Not after his ex walked out on him on the biggest day of their lives.
No. If anyone wanted more than a controlling interest in Crane Matchmaking and a night of sweat and sex, it was Foster. The more he talked to Harlow, the more he wanted her. The woman had it all: good looks, knockout body, a sense of humor.
Thankfully, he’d managed not to make an ass out of himself during dinner, but now that they’d eaten Dixon’s kitchen practically bare and drank most of the wine, he didn’t know what to do with himself.
Fuck. They had to get out of Dixon’s apartment.
He stood up in a rush. “How about we get out of here?”
“We haven’t discussed terms of the sale.” Dixon’s voice carried over the bar. Damn him and always bringing it back to business.
Screw business tonight.
Harlow wasn’t interested in selling, that was painfully obvious. If they weren’t going to secure this acquisition, then they might as well all go home. But then he’d lose the chance to be in her orbit. Christ, he was as hung up as a lovesick puppy and he’d barely gotten to know her.
She shifted on the seat next to him, her black dress riding up to expose creamy white thighs. “I’d like to hear what you all have to offer. Before I turn it down.”
Harlow’s smile carried through her words and Foster risked a glance. Her bright blue eyes met his, and he couldn’t help it. He wanted her. For her smile, her laugh, her body.
Those curves called to him, begging his hands to reach out and stroke. The offer spilled out of his mouth before he could pull it back. “There’s a private veranda upstairs. If it’s not being used, we could have it to ourselves.”
Harlow’s lips parted just enough to reveal a hint of pink tongue and white teeth. The urge to kiss her overwhelmed him. Would she taste like chocolate and sin and a future he never dreamed of?
She smiled. “It’s supposed to be warm tonight. Fresh air sounds nice.”
Dixon strode into the living room. “Then consider it done.” He grabbed his phone and held it to his ear. “I’ll call down to the concierge.”
Foster stood up in a rush. “We’ll head on up. If there’s an issue, call me.” He reached for Harlow’s hand. A few minutes alone was all he needed. “Coming?”
Chapter 7
HARLOW
The view was breathtaking from the veranda. Forty-eight stories below, Lake Michigan lapped against the shore, the lights of the city far, far behind them on the other side of the building.
It had been one hell of a night so far. For a while, Harlow had forgotten all about the offer to buy her matchmaking company and had relaxed, smiling and laughing as Foster and Dixon competed for her attention. The pair of them made her giddy and lightheaded and more than a little turned on.
Dixon with his hard-charging focus and roasted chicken straight out of a five-star restaurant. Foster with his quiet smile and easy laugh. She sensed the undercurrent running between them; tension over her and the sale and what they wanted.
While Dixon always brought the night back to Crane Matchmaking, Foster seemed content to ignore the elephant in the room and ease closer. It suited Harlow just fine. Heck, if she could forget all about the offer to buy her business and focus on the way his lips would fit with her own and the feel of his chest pressed against her…
A breeze blew in from the water and Harlow shivered. Foster inched toward her, his warmth seeping into her bare arm.
“Cold?”
“A little.”
He wrapped his arm around her, hugging her against his side. “I can keep you warm.”
She glanced down at his hand, protective and commanding as he tucked her tightly to his side. “I thought this was a business meeting.”
“It’s whatever you want it to be, Harlow.”
She swallowed. From the beginning, Foster had been different than Dixon. Where his business partner was all ego and show, Foster was kindness and common sense.
But this, whatever it was, was new. She glanced up at his profile. Strong nose, squared jaw, a hint of a scar running in front of his ear. Curiosity got the better of her. “Where did that come from?”
She trailed her finger along the pale white line and swore he flinched.
“A bad decision I made years ago.”
“Were you in a fight?”
“Of sorts.” He turned to her, hiding the scar as he took her by the arms. “Enough about my imperfections.”
Harlow suppressed a shiver.
“I want to kiss you.”
“What’s stopping you?”
The muscles in his jaw rippled. “I don’t want you to think this is some ploy. I’m not seducing you to get your business.”
A smile quirked her lips. “You think I’m that easy?”
“There’s nothing easy about you, Harlow.” He leaned closer, lips a breath away, his eyes reflecting the moon like the waves of Lake Michigan hundreds of feet below. “But there’s plenty making me hard.”
Harlow reached between them, her hand finding the thick shaft of his erection beneath his pants. “Apparently so.”
God, it had been so long since she’d been this close to a man… This bold and turned on. Harlow ran her fingers up and down Foster’s dick, sizing him up as they stared into each other’s eyes.
Damn it was hot. He was hot. But Foster Mackenzie? The guy who wanted to buy her business out from under her and take all of her hard work and turn it into, what?
Another internet dating site?
She bit her lip, digging into the soft flesh as Foster’s hands slid down her arms. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Keeping each other warm? Of course we should. Frostbite is a bitch.”
Harlow laughed. “Is this the real you?”
His brow tucked in. “I’m always the real me, Harlow. I don’t bullshit like Dixon. I don’t have an ego that needs stroking.”
She squeezed his crotch and Foster let out a hiss.
“But other things do… need stroking, am I right?”
“Feel for yourself.”
“Believe me, I am.” She eased closer, lips within kissing distance. Screw what was right and proper or a good business decision. Kissing Foster was a colossally bad idea, but Harlow was past caring.
It had been so long since she’d allowed a man to get this close. So long since she’d felt the adoration in someone’s eyes and knew she turned him on. “You can kiss me, Foster. I won’t hold it against you.”
He leaned in, eyes wide open and Harlow held her breath. Yes, yes. She could make out the flecks of green in his dark brown eyes, watch as his pupils swelled with lust. Her lips fell open and Foster’s nose brushed her cheek. So close, so very…
“Am I interrupting?”
Shit. Harlow stepped back, breaking contact with Foster as Dixon appeared.
Oh my God. What the hell was I thinking? Harlow inhaled and exhaled, fighting the racing of her heart as she stared at Dixon.
She’d come to this meeting to hear their proposal and shoot them down, not run her hand up and down Foster’s crotch and daydream about how hard she’d orgasm around his cock.
&nbs
p; She smoothed her dress. “I was cold. Foster offered to warm me up.”
“I can see that. Although next time, it might help to get naked. Sharing body heat and all that.” Dixon stepped forward, three mugs balanced in his hands. “Take one.”
She took the closest one and sniffed it. “What is this?”
“A hot toddy.” He handed one to Foster as well before holding the last up in a toast. “Here’s to finally getting this party started.”
DIXON
Ten minutes. I’m gone for ten minutes and Foster’s dick is straining toward Harlow like a dog on a leash. Fucking ridiculous.
Dixon took a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving Harlow’s face. Her cheeks turned that shade of pink that only came from orgasms and massive embarrassment. Dixon knew he’d be seeing that color again, only next time, Harlow would be naked.
When had it happened? Over dinner? While they laughed on the couch? While he watched her ass lob up and down as she walked to the windows to look out over the city? Sometime over the course of their night, Dixon had changed his mind.
He wanted Harlow.
Sure, buying Crane Matchmaking was still a top priority, but feeling her tits in his palm had jumped up to number one. It didn’t matter that Foster stood an arm’s length away, dick hard as a rock and bulging in his jeans. Dixon wasn’t giving up on the sale, or getting Harlow in his bed.
She wanted Foster, so what? Harlow could have them both. He cleared his throat. “We’ll offer you two hundred thousand cash and a ten percent equity share in the company.”
“Excuse me?” Harlow faltered, her lashes fluttering as she focused on Dixon’s words.
“You heard me. Two hundred K, ten percent share, and we take Crane Matchmaking national. You can stay on as the figurehead and help us fine-tune the algorithm.”
“But you own the business.”
“Ninety percent, to be exact.”
She sipped the steaming drink in her hand before running her tongue across her lower lip. He couldn’t wait to do the same.
“No. My business isn’t for sale.”
“Good.”
“What do you mean, good? I thought—”
Dixon reached out and took her mug, setting it behind him on the table next to his. “It means we can get on with our night.”
“But I thought—”
“You think too much, Harlow.” Dixon closed the distance between them and reached for her, sliding his fingers through her blonde hair as he dragged her closer. Her eyes went wide as he leaned in to claim the lips he’d obsessed over all night.
Fuck.
Sweet and spicy and tinged with scotch. Dixon didn’t just kiss Harlow. He pillaged and plundered, claimed and owned. He damn near devoured those lips, tugging the bottom one into his mouth and sucking on her tongue as she stood frozen in his grip.
This.
This was worth losing out on the sale, forgetting the matchmaking business, throwing away a prime business opportunity. If he could kiss this woman until the sun came up, Dixon would let it all go.
Harlow Crane was worth it.
As he slid his hands down her back to grope her ass, he glanced up. Foster stood behind Harlow, watching with hooded eyes. Dixon tightened his grip, plumping Harlow’s ass and sliding her skirt higher and higher to gauge Foster’s reaction.
The man’s nostrils flared, and he rocked back on his heels. Dixon knew Harlow was torn. He could feel it in her hesitating touch and her resistance to his hands. She wanted them both.
And what was so bad about that?
As Dixon slid his hands around to her front, Harlow palmed his chest. She shoved, hard, and broke their kiss. Her bee-stung lips were gorgeous and sinful and Dixon wondered how they’d look around his partner’s cock.
“This isn’t… We shouldn’t…” Words tripped out of her mouth, but nothing could stop the flush of her cheeks or the panting need of her breath.
Harlow wanted him.
She turned to Foster. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Are you just going to stand there, or what?” Dixon lobbed his accusation at Foster and the man regarded him in silence for a moment, all while Harlow’s head swiveled back and forth to gawk at them.
“That’s up to her.” Foster focused on Harlow and she turned to him, mouth opening and closing with nothing to say.
The longer she hesitated, the more the moment slipped away. Figures. He gave Foster a chance and the man ruined it for both of them.
Just as Dixon resigned himself to a cold shower and a jerk-off session, Harlow surprised him.
She reached for Foster, tugging him by the soft cotton of his T-shirt. Her lips landed smack on Foster’s and Dixon grinned.
I’ll be damned. She has it in her after all.
Chapter 8
HARLOW
I’ve lost my mind. Harlow pulled back from Foster, breathless and unsteady in her heels. She’d come to this dinner prepared to hear them out, turn them down, and be on her way.
Not French-kiss Dixon and Foster one after the other like… her best friend. Oh my God. Her hand flew to her mouth, fingers splayed across her swollen bottom lip. Maddie had done this exact thing and it ended in her falling in love.
That isn’t happening to me. Not a chance.
Dixon’s hands wrapped around her waist and she almost shrieked. “I know it’s chilly up here, but don’t get cold feet. Not now.” He kissed her neck, lips hot and insistent as he trailed them down her bare skin.
“I’m not selling my business.”
“So I’ve been told.” His lips trailed further, skirting the sleeve of her dress before landing again on the edge of Harlow’s shoulder.
“I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I don’t have time.”
Dixon laughed, low and throaty and Harlow shivered. “Seems you are good at your job.”
“What do you mean?”
His hands slid up her sides, fingers grazing her breasts. “I’m not looking for a girlfriend. So we’re the perfect match, aren’t we?”
Harlow looked up at Foster. His arms hung at his sides, fists clenched. From his tense shoulders and storm-cloud eyes she knew he was pissed, but she didn’t want him to be. “I’m hopeless when it comes to myself. It’s why I match other people.” She spoke to Foster, imploring him to step closer.
How Maddie managed two men, Harlow didn’t have a clue. She could barely think as Dixon’s hands swept around her front to palm her breasts. His fingers found her nipples and tweaked the stiff peaks beneath the black crepe.
She inhaled, willing her eyes to stay open and locked on Foster. He stared back just as hard, a question burning in his midnight eyes.
“What are we doing?”
Dixon’s hand dug into her hip and he spun her around. “We’re about to fuck like rabbits.” His green eyes narrowed, so intense was his conviction and determined his focus. The world could have disappeared in that instant and Harlow wouldn’t have noticed.
All she could see was Dixon looming over her, lust and sex and bright-hot need burning between them. He broke their stare to look over her shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Foster?”
Harlow gasped. Never had she been treated this way. A thrill rushed through her as Foster closed the space between them. His hands found the nape of her neck and he brushed her hair aside.
“Is that what you want, Harlow?” Foster’s lips tickled her ear, every word a heady promise of passion. Bliss.
“I didn’t come here for this.”
“That’s not an answer.” His feather-light kisses turned to bites, tiny nips of his teeth on the edge of her earlobe.
Harlow shuddered. How could she deny her curiosity? How could she turn down the very same passion that turned her best friend’s world upside down?
She looked up into Dixon’s face, saw the lust etched in lines across his forehead, felt the heft of his erection as he tugged her closer.
They wanted her. Whether it was some adolescent competition or anger over
losing the sale, or genuine lust, she didn’t know and didn’t care. She’d gone without a man for far too long, satisfying herself with photos of happy couples on her cubicle wall and fantasies in her own bed at night.
Foster and Dixon were real, in-the-flesh men, with wicked smiles and naughty hands, and she wanted more than anything to give in.
“Say you want us, Harlow. Say it.”
Dixon’s command could have brought her to her knees. She quivered with the admission. “I want you.”
“Say. It.”
Her lips turned to sandpaper, her tongue to steel wool. “I…”
Foster pressed against her back, cock hard as he rubbed it over her ass. “Say the words, Harlow, and we’ll give you what you need.”
She stuttered. “I-I—”
Dixon shoved his hand between her legs to cup her mound. “You’re soaked for us. Your panties are dripping with your sweet nectar. How long will you regret not giving in? How many nights will you dream about this, all alone in your bed?”
Did he read her thoughts? Know her darkest secrets? She shimmied, trying to get away from his marauding hand, but Foster held her still, his lips once again hot on her ear. “Say the words.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to fuck you.”
He nipped her skin. “Say it, Harlow.”
Dixon ran his hands over her panties, the lace digging into her slicked flesh with every pass. Oh my God. The more Dixon stroked her, the harder it was to deny the truth. But they didn’t even know each other.
An hour ago, they were having dinner, talking business. This was… This was…
Harlow closed her eyes and gave in. “I want to fuck you.”
“Both of us? Or just me?”
She reached for each man, one hand on Foster’s neck, the other palming Dixon’s chest. “Both. Now shut up and do it already.”
FOSTER
Harlow’s fingers dug into the back of his neck as Foster took a kiss. Fuck, yes. Lemon and honey and liquor coated her tongue, and Foster kissed harder, tongue thrashing against hers, lips mashing, teeth nipping.
