Page 6 of Inappropriately Matched

“Okay,” she says, her cheeks now crimson, but she carries on full steam. “So. A—marriage for three months, unconsummated. Or marriage three months, consummated.”

I mean, her dog thinks we have great sexual chemistry, so if we get nothing out of the deal, it’ll be great sex. Her dog thinks we have great sexual chemistry. I say that sentence in my head again and again, and I can’t help but smile.

“If it’s consummated, you’ll be doing me a solid because I’m still a virgin and happy to part ways with my hymen already.

Then she admits she’s a virgin.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A virgin.

“You do understand what that means, right?” I ask. “You’ll have to be shared between the three of us.” I copy her hand gestures to include Holt, Ryder, and me.

“Oh, I do. Looking forward to it actually,” she says, her gaze roving between the three of us.

She has the most magnetic eyes ever. One look into that deep hazel gaze of hers and I want to worship her for the rest of her life. Hmm... did I just think that out loud? Yes, I did.

And since Holt, Ryder, and I grew up in a foster care and share a bond tighter than if we were brothers, together with a telepathic connection that we always know what the other one is thinking, I can safely say never had a woman sucker-punched all three of us like this before. Ever.

We’ve never come across a woman like her. Silky soft skin, an entirely too sexy feminine jaw, and a throat made for our hands to wrap our hands around so we can feel her clutching onto our fingers inside her pussy when we squeeze.

“Consummated,” I say, ignoring Holt’s and Ryder’s incredulous looks that I’m entertaining this beauty for this long. Fuck, I’m having a little too much fun at these guys expense.

“Consummated it is then. I’m on the pill already, so that’s taken care of. I’m Clem, by the way. Clementine Williams.”

“Steele Adams,” I say. “These are my business partners, Holt Kissinger and Ryder MacMurphy.”

“Excellent. Great to meet you all.” She holds out her hand to me. “Phone.” I dig into my pocket and hand her my phone after unlocking it.

Her fingers fly across the screen, and I hear both Holt’s and Ryder’s phones beep in their pockets.

“I set up a group chat so I can send you details.” She hands me back my phone.

“And oh, and don’t worry about dressing up. You don’t need to go out and buy suits. Come as you are. I’ll value that more. Until tomorrow then,” she says, takes off Holt’s hard hat, hands it to him, waves at us, and is off.

We all stare at her leaving, and so do the other fucking men on site. Holt growls at them to get back to work.

I glance over at Holt and Ryder. And we can’t help but grin.

“Are you done fucking around now?” Holt asks.

“Guess we’re getting married, though,” I say with a chuckle. Ryder shakes his head, but he’s curious to see where this goes.

“The fuck we are,” Holt says under his breath.

"She doesn't even want us to splurge on suits for our wedding," I say seriously. "We're not going to find another girl like her," I joke more.

“She probably has no intention of showing up," Ryder says.

"Exactly. Didn’t you hear what I told her? She has to marry all three of us. If that doesn’t scare the crap out of her, nothing will."

"But if she does show, are we seriously going to be playing house with her for the next three months?” Ryder asks, and we let his words sink in.

Yeah, she’s not going to show up.

We get back to work. High-rise luxury apartment blocks don't build themselves.

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