by Kendall Ryan
“Cullen is not going to find out. He’s not going to know that you have the world’s tightest teacup.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Can we not discuss this?” she hissed.
“Excuse me, sugar tits, I’m sorry. I’m a bit fucking thrown off here. How did you want me to act this morning . . . like you weren’t naked and wet and grinding on my dick last night?”
She grinned, but it was fake and didn’t reach her pretty eyes. “Yeah, that’d be super helpful.”
I could have barked out a laugh, but I knew based on her reaction, Evie didn’t find this situation nearly as funny as I did.
She lifted the coffee mug to her lips with a trembling hand and then paused, still looking straight at me. “Just do me a favor and forget last night ever happened.”
Yeah, right. Not possible.
I couldn’t seem to stop my brain from remembering all the wonderful soft, pleasant things about her. The way she felt underneath me, her scent, how quickly she climaxed, almost like she’d been desperate for it . . .
My cock pulsed again.
Christ.
“How’s this . . . I’ll forgive you for breaking into my room. But forgetting last night? There’s not a chance in hell of that happening.”
“Argh!” She buried her flaming face in her hands. “Can you please? Pretty please? I just want to forget that ever happened, and I want you to as well. Wipe it from your brain. Is that too much to ask?”
I let my gaze travel over those curves, so delicious they should be illegal, and again, my mouth started moving before my brain weighed in.
“Actually, I can’t. I won’t ever forget the feeling of you coming on my face. The way your thighs gripped my cheeks as you shuddered for me. And frankly?” I let my gaze trail down the front of her sweater where her nipples had hardened, peaking against the soft fabric. “I don’t think you can forget it either. But you’re welcome to try.”
Her lean throat worked as she swallowed, and suddenly the room—and my pants—seemed much too small.
“Now you’re all clear to bang that chick from the bar. Consider that my gift to you.” Evie spread her napkin on her lap, a sour expression on her face.
“How generous of you.” It was a prize of little consolation. I had no interest in that. Whatsoever. Which was fucking weird.
“Good news,” Cullen said, sailing back into the restaurant and toward our small table. “Everything’s on track in London. Now we can get back to business.” His gaze flicked between Evie and me, and he frowned. “You guys okay?”
“Yup,” I said smoothly, shifting in my seat to ease the pressure on my groin. “Everything is fine. Evie was just getting all worked up, telling me how passionately she feels about the new lingerie line. Evie, why don’t you tell Cullen what you were saying to me?”
Evie lifted her chin and nodded. “Sure, yeah. I was saying how the new line is old school and vintage-looking but with a modern twist. Really fine laces with pearl buttons, but instead of the standard black and cream, we’ve added all those luscious new colors. In fact,” she sent a vicious smile my way, “I’ve already snagged a bra-and-panty set in every color. The raspberry is my favorite.”
Ungh.
The raspberry would look so good on her golden skin. An image of her bent over the desk in front of me wearing only a pair of raspberry lace panties sent a pulse of electricity straight to my dick.
She looked so triumphant, there was no need to wonder if she knew how deftly she’d scored.
Evie—one. Smith—zero.
“I’m really glad to hear you guys are so into the business talk. Because that’s actually why I asked you both here today. I have some amazing news,” Cullen said, giving each of us a meaningful look.
Evie shot me a worried glance and I shrugged, equally as confused as she was. I had no clue what the big news was, unless he hadn’t told her about my investing and taking on a temporary position in the company yet?
“We are officially going to be a team. The three amigos!” Cullen beamed at us both, waiting for us to join in on the excitement, but we sat there frozen in stony silence.
I found my voice first and straightened my tie, trying to act casual. “When you say ‘team,’ what exactly do you mean?”
Evie didn’t work at the company. Sure, she had a stake like all of her family did, but she didn’t have any dealings in the day-to-day running of the company. She’d just graduated from college and was supposed to be traveling to find herself, or whatever recent college grads did.
“Evie decided to take the position I offered her in marketing. She’ll be handling our social media presence. You yourself said it was a soft point for us, Smith.”
I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment, wishing I had a fucking time machine to go back and punch my past self in the face for saying that.
“And I’ve got new office space that will accommodate us all back in Chicago, ready and waiting,” Cullen continued.
“I’m sorry, but doesn’t Smith already have a job?” Evie’s voice was shrill and slightly panicked as she drummed her fingers restlessly against her thigh.
“He does. But mostly consulting work now, and investments. He offered me six months of his time and expertise, and I’d be a fool not to take it.” Cullen sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “It’s going to be great. The three of us together are going to take this business from the red back into the black in no time.”
The room went quiet as the ramifications of what he was saying sank in.
“What’s wrong? Why are you two acting so weird?” Cullen asked with a frown.
No matter how much I’d teased Evie, the last thing I wanted was for Cullen to sense what had happened between us and that things had shifted.
I pasted on a smile and shook my head. “Nothing wrong here. Just took me by surprise, is all. When we crunched the numbers last night, I didn’t see her salary as a line item.”
“Yeah, I was still working through that, so I just plugged in a marketing consultant with a flat rate, remember?”
Now that he mentioned it, I did remember. Damn me for not asking more questions.
“Evie, this cool with you?” Cullen asked, turning toward his sister.
“Of course,” she said with a snort. “Super cool. Like, so cool, the coolest.”
She was babbling. And Evie never babbled.
Cullen let out a confused chuckle and rubbed his hands together. “Glad to hear it. So, I just got a call about the new line from the distributor. What say we get to work?”
My mind was still reeling as he chattered on, pulling out swatches and advertising mock-ups from his bag. I’d managed to keep my cool about what happened in my hotel room and joke around with her about it because it was fleeting. A moment in time. One I’d look back on and fondly remember. And sure, I’d have to see her for a few days while we were in Paris, but then? It would be back to seeing her at the occasional holiday party.
Now? Seeing Evie all day, every day?
I sure as hell wasn’t laughing anymore. This woman was going to be the death of me.
Chapter Seven
Evie
Could this Monday suck any harder?
Scrubbing at the coffee stain on my cream silk blouse with a wet wipe, I muttered a curse under my breath. Today should have been a super-exciting one—after four years of busting my ass in college, it was my first day of work at my first job, finally contributing in a meaningful way. I would be embracing my spot in the family empire, as the right hand to my brother who was at the helm.
Instead I’d just spent fifteen minutes looking for the freaking door to this mammoth building, having to walk all the way around the block twice.
Who can’t find a door? Me, apparently.
After stuffing the wipes back into my oversized purse, I sipped the now cooled coffee where it had pooled after overflowing on the mouthpiece of the lid.
I pulled open the glass door to our suite and spotted my broth
er straight away. The office was hardly more than a large open room—complete with a concrete floor and exposed ductwork overhead. Cullen had told me it was nothing fancy, but this was bare bones.
“Did you find it okay?” my brother asked, glancing up from his laptop with a smile.
I shot a death glare his way.
He chuckled under his breath. “Sorry, I meant to tell you. It’s weird right now with the remodel going on. You have to enter where it says Billy’s Bagels and then go up one flight of stairs.” He waved his hand. “Never mind. You obviously figured it out. You’re here.”
Smith wasn’t here yet. At least I’d beat him here, and I could take a moment to get my bearings.
“I would give you a tour, but—” Cullen gestured to the office around us. “This is it. Copy room’s over there. Bathrooms are down the hall.”
The room was large, and one entire wall was windows that provided a view of a construction site below. It was basic, but had a certain charm to it.
In many ways, we were still functioning as a start-up company. We didn’t need anything fancy. When my brother took over a couple of years ago, the company was barely turning a profit, just enough for him to survive on. Now it was poised to do a couple million in sales this year—if we could get our inventory issues sorted out, and the big accounts came through on their promised orders. It was an exciting time for everyone.
“You’ll be right here. Between me and Smith.” Cullen gestured to a center desk wedged between two others.
They weren’t large or glamorous, but still they were nice—white Formica with chrome legs, and white leather swivel chairs. A gray rug cushioned the concrete floor beneath our feet, and a little steel trash can was tucked beneath each of the three desks. On top of each desk, a bright orange pencil holder sat next to a laptop computer. It felt organized and neat, and I liked that.
There was also a large work table under the windows on which sat piles of bras, camisoles, and books and books of fabric swatches.
“Thanks, Cullen. For believing in me.” I smiled as I lowered myself into my seat next to him.
“Of course, sis.” He returned my easy smile. “If you want to start by getting set up on our network, I e-mailed you the instructions.”
“Network?” I took another sip of my coffee.
“Yeah, so we all have access to shared files and company documents. And it gives you access to the fax machine and printer.” He tipped his head toward the back corner of the room, where a doorway led to a little copy room.
“Cool. I can’t wait to dig in and get to work.”
But just then my mojo was thrown off when Smith walked in, looking so strikingly sexy in his suit that I almost swallowed my tongue.
“Suit and tie . . . You didn’t need to bother,” Cullen said as Smith approached.
Cullen was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, just as he was most days. Come to think of it, I’d never really seen Smith out of his suit. He wore it like a knight wore his armor, almost as if it had the power to shield him from the world.
“Morning,” Smith rasped out in his husky morning voice, and my entire body took notice.
Shrugging off the strap of his laptop bag, he lowered himself into the seat next to mine. Close enough that I could smell his crisp masculine scent. This should have been the most exciting time of my adult life, but instead it was marred by the fact that I’d had a failed, awkward one-night stand with my brother’s bestie, his business partner, and my new coworker.
This was like some sick joke. How would I survive sitting a few feet away from Smith for nine hours a day? Fuck my life. If I could quit, I would.
Cullen and Smith launched into a conversation about fourth-quarter purchase orders and gross revenue projections that I mostly ignored while I tried not to hyperventilate.
I didn’t just need this job. I wanted it so badly, my chest ached. I wanted desperately to prove to my parents and my brother that I could handle the real world and not fuck it up. I was born into wealth and privilege— loved and cherished, educated at the best schools. Now was my chance to finally prove that I was more than my privileged upbringing would suggest. I was ready to contribute. To get this weight off my shoulders that all I’d done my entire life so far was take.
Focusing my attention on the instructions in my e-mail, I soon had my laptop configured to the network. I opened a folder containing the company graphics and logo that a graphic designer had recently finished for us. I planned to spend the day updating our social media accounts with our new look, and then reaching out to some media accounts in the hopes that we could get press coverage.
I opened a new e-mail and attached the logo—Sophia’s written in a pretty script font in a soft pink color overlaid on the transparent image of a lace bra—and typed out a brief message.
Maggie,
Check out our new logo. Super cute, right? Oh, and I’m sitting three feet from Smith. Can you say torture?
I typed in her name and clicked Enter, then Send. It was only after I hit Send that I noticed the e-mail address field said Mack, not Maggie.
“Um . . . who’s Mack Lively?” I asked, reading over the address in my sent box.
Cullen swallowed, turning toward me. “He’s the head of the regional department store chain out of Boston we’re hoping to land. Why?”
My stomach bottomed out, and the coffee I’d consumed might as well have been battery acid for how sick I suddenly felt.
“I accidentally sent him an e-mail meant for Maggie.”
“Shit, Evie. How did that happen?”
I released a slow exhale. The beginnings of a splitting headache set in. I’d been at work a mere thirty minutes and I’d already fucked up. I blamed Smith’s presence—he had me agitated, but it wasn’t like I could tell Cullen that.
“I started typing in M-A, and then I hit Enter. Maggie’s name normally auto-populates. I don’t even have this Mack person’s e-mail address. I don’t understand.”
Cullen swore under his breath, and Smith’s somber expression looked like he felt sorry for me.
“You’re connected to the network, Evie,” Cullen said. “You have access to all the clients and contacts now.” He released a sigh through his nose, his jaw tense.
“Right. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“What was in the e-mail?” Cullen asked, his expression darkening.
“Just our new logo . . . and some other stuff.” I looked down at my keyboard, my mood plummeting even further.
Smith cleared his throat. “It’s first-day nerves. A simple mistake that anyone could have made. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Don’t sweat it, Evie.”
I released the breath I was holding.
Cullen nodded. “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself; it’s day one. You’ll learn the ropes soon enough.”
I tried to smile and took another sip of my coffee. At least he didn’t suspect that the hulking six-foot-something man beside us was the real reason for my nerves.
• • •
Somehow, I survived my first day. After my disastrous morning, I kept my head down and my eyes on my screen, speaking only in one-word responses to Smith and Cullen, afraid I would somehow out myself.
Smith’s playful mood from Paris had evaporated, and he’d spent the day brooding and despondent. I wasn’t cut out for this level of torture, which made me extremely thankful when I saw Maggie enter the bar after work.
“Thank God you’re here,” I mumbled, curling my fingers around the stem of my wineglass.
Maggie flashed me a gloomy frown. “Hey, sweetie. You’re going to need something stronger than that.” She tipped her chin toward my glass of merlot.
I shrugged. It didn’t matter. Alcohol wasn’t going to solve this.
I’d told Maggie the entire sordid tale when I got back from Paris. To her credit, she’d only laughed once at my ridiculous plan to break into Smith’s hotel room, and then winced when I told her how he’d pulled away and pract
ically kicked me out as soon as he realized it was me. Since then, she’d offered sympathetic support and gentle encouragement.
Her stance? It was time to move on. And didn’t I know it. I just wished there was a way to erase the past. What I needed was a time machine.
“It was torturous. He’s sitting so close that I can smell his cologne. And he looks at me like he feels bad for me.”
Maggie nodded. “That’s exactly why I have the perfect new plan for you.”
“I’m all ears,” I said, then drained the last of my wine and signaled the bartender for another glass.
“The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”
Emboldened by the alcohol, we created a new plan—an online dating profile that Maggie typed up for me on my phone.
“Ms. Fifty Shades of Sexy seeks lovable Christian Grey type for cuddling, misadventure, and more.”
I snatched my phone back from her. “You can’t write that.”
She smiled like the cat who’d eaten the canary. “Oops. Too late.”
By the time we’d polished off a bottle of wine and eaten a few tacos apiece from a food truck out front, I felt immensely better. On the cab ride home, anything seemed possible.
Maybe I wouldn’t die a pathetic spinster with a cobwebbed vagina after all. I had a new plan, one that had nothing to do with Smith Hamilton. It didn’t matter that I’d been in love with him half my life . . . it was more than past time to move on.
My failed attempt at seducing him was like a flashing neon sign from God to move on. Smith who?
Tomorrow was a new day.
Chapter Eight
Smith
I stared at my computer screen. For the tenth time that day, I saw not a single number in front of me, in spite of the fact that they filled the screen from top to bottom.
Nope, instead of eights, I saw the lush curves of one Evie Reed in all her glory, sprawled on my hotel bed.
Instead of sixes and nines, my brain instantly supplied a dozen carnal images of the two of us doing exactly that. My mouth on that sweet, wet pussy, and her hot, juicy lips wrapped around my cock.
