Page 3 of Christmas with my Three Best Friends

“Anytime this week would be great. The sooner we roll it out, the better for us. We need more evening traffic, and we couldn’t think of a better way to get it. Jax is doing everything he can on the martial arts side of things, but the competition is getting stiffer by the day, particularly in this neighborhood.”

His gaze is persistent. I know we’re talking business, but there’s something underneath, a layer of emotions I can’t quite read. Romanticizing something that might not exist is one of my biggest fears, so I’ve made a habit of immediately dismissing anything that may seem like attraction coming from Marius or Jax or Richard. The last thing I need is emotional complications in this business and platonic harem of ours. Yet I can’t stop myself from holding his gaze, wondering… have I been wrong the whole time?

“That makes sense,” I manage. “I know there’s a new uppity gym opening on Fifth and Lexington. That’s gonna up the stakes some more.”

Lyle scoffs. “Like they weren’t high enough, right?”

“We’ll pull through,” Marius declares stubbornly. “Oh, there’s that book,” he adds, glancing somewhere behind me. I keep a bookshelf with nutrition and fitness-themed books, psychology papers and sports magazines for various references. “The one on the mathematics of nutrition. I’m gonna borrow it for a while, if you don’t mind.”

“By all means, have at it,” I reply.

He comes over, and only now do I realize how stupid I was. I should’ve just taken the book and handed it to him. Too late. Marius closes the distance between us and reaches over my shoulder. The shelves are just behind me, but with me in my swivel chair in the way, he can’t exactly get to it as easily. This leads to a brush of his forearm against mine, causing my blood to rush up to my head as I exhale sharply.

“You smell nice,” Marius whispers, and I can feel his eyes on me.

We’re only a few inches apart. I don’t have a full view of him, but if turn my head, there’s a chance our lips might meet. It’s making my heart drum faster as I struggle to sit upright and appear normal, professional, and not the shamelessly aroused mess I’ve suddenly become as Marius withdraws from my personal space with his borrowed book.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

Lyle’s phone rings. “So, yeah, think about pricing, and we’ll talk some more. Excuse me, one of my clients is calling,” he says and leaves the office.

It puts me in a different kind of bind. The room feels small in his absence. Marius stands by the corner of my desk, watching me intently, while I try to think of something decent and neutral to say. It’s as if my own brain has decided to conspire against me, however, because nothing decent nor neutral wishes to come out.

“Did you check your outbox?” he asks, his voice low and sending chills down my spine.

“Um… Yeah…”

Marius comes closer again, and I hold my breath as I look up at him. Good grief, there’s quite the storm brewing below those long, black eyelashes of his. His cologne is soft but intoxicating as he leans forward. Barely an inch of air is left between us, the tension thickening as I close my eyes and feel his lips landing gently on the side of my neck.

It’s enough to unleash fireworks in the pit of my stomach, every atom in my body igniting against his mouth, against his sweet and sinful kiss. It feels like forever unraveling around us, forever hugging me in the absolute darkness as I sit here, motionless and aroused beyond repair, until I sense him pulling back.

My eyes open, but I can’t quite breathe just yet.

All I can do is stare at him. Wait.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, it seems,” Marius says. “Later, after work.”

A smile flutters across his lips. The same lips I felt earlier, accompanied by the tickling of his neatly trimmed beard. My fingers tingle. I’d love to run them through that thing, to feel his skin on mine, to lose myself within him, entirely.

But I just nod slowly, watching him turn around and leave.

As the door closes behind him, I sit in my swivel chair, liquid heat pooling between my legs, I can only wonder… What the hell have I just unleashed with that “naughty list”, and how do I fix it?

2

Shay

As expected, my morning kickboxing session with Jax is pretty weird. I don’t think it’s weird in a bad way, though. He’s a lot more open, a lot more responsive to my presence—Jax is usually the super professional, the brooding one who rarely opens up. Today, however, he’s telling me about his weekend, about his night out with the guys and the bender he narrowly survived while I practice my leg kicks on a red, suspended punching bag. Jax holds on to it tightly, making sure each of my kicks is met with solid stability.

“I’m telling you, I never should’ve gone for that second round of tequila shots,” he says, laughing lightly.

“Well, we’re hedonists by nature. You couldn’t stay away from it precisely because it was a forbidden pleasure,” I reply between leg switches.

He eyes me carefully, and I catch glimpses of his attention sliding up and down my body. I’m wearing my usual orange gym shorts and light gray tank top, the black sports bra keeping my generous bosom in place while I train hard in his company. “Left leg,” he reminds me. “And focus all your strength in the very last moment prior to impact. Just swing it out first, then put your force into it.”

“Right,” I mumble and follow his instructions to the letter. To my delight, it results in the kind of leg kick that makes him plant his heels deeper into the tatami rug. It takes considerable force to make this man wobble. “What time did you guys leave the club on Saturday night, then?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation away from my naughty list.

“I think it was about three in the morning,” he says. “How about you? How was your weekend?”

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