Page 36 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
“A gala is just a big party, and I’ve thrown plenty of those. No big deal.”
Jack glances over me. “Don’t ever talk about your contributions like that in front of us again. Especially when you look this good.”
I laugh, flush rising to my cheeks. “Pretty sure saying that kind of thing is against HR policy.”
Jack smirks. “We already broke policy. Twice.”
Gavin runs his finger along the rim of his shot glass. “Want to break policy again?”
My breath catches.
And then Harrison moves to stand behind me, warm hands resting lightly on my shoulders. “Missed you.”
The tequila buzz turns molten. So do I.
I look at all three of them, and realize I’ve already decided.
My heart is pounding. Not from the tequila—though that’s definitely humming in my blood—but from the heat in their eyes. It’s not imagined. Not polite curiosity. It’s want, open and sharp and unapologetic.
They’re circling me. Not physically, not yet—but with attention, with presence. I’m sinking into this, and even if a lifeline was thrown to me, I wouldn’t grab it.
Gavin is the first to break the tension. He lifts my empty shot glass from the table, fingers brushing mine. A light touch. Barely anything.
But I feel it everywhere.
“You didn’t have to say yes to this trip,” he says quietly.
I shrug. “I wanted to help.”
He leans in, his breath warm at my ear. “You wanted more than that.”
My cheeks flush. He’s not wrong. I hate how easily he reads me.
“I wanted to be useful,” I say, but the words feel thin.
Jack sets his glass down and closes the distance between us. His green eyes are darker now, heavy-lidded, and something in his expression softens just slightly—just enough to make my knees go weak. “You’ve always been more than useful,” he says. “You’ve been driving us fucking crazy.”
“Professionally or?—”
He cuts me off with a kiss.
It’s not slow. It’s not sweet. It’s everything I’ve been trying to repress since I walked into this lodge. My lips part for him without a second thought. His hand cups the side of my neck, thumb stroking under my jaw. His tongue strokes against mine, deep and hungry, and I whimper before I can stop it.
Harrison’s hands are still on my shoulders, and he turns me gently, easing me back. He kisses the side of my throat, and a shiver rolls through me.
“I think about you,” he murmurs. “Every night.”
The words hit harder than they should. Harder than I should let them.
Gavin steps in close in front of me now, his hand brushing down my side to rest lightly on my waist. “I told myself to stay away,” he says. “That I could be stronger than this.” He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Then another, softer, at the pulse point below my jaw. “I’ve never been good at denying my impulses. How about you?”
Words, sentences, I should be able to answer him. Say something clever to stop this without hurting anyone’s feelings. But my brain is floating on tequila and lust, and I’m too far into this. “I was good at impulse control. Until you three came along.”
Harrison gets me to my feet, and Jack’s fingers trail down my spine, over my hips, gripping firmly but not demanding. They’re surrounding me. Touching me. Devouring me. And I want every second of it.
I should say no. I should pull away, remind them this is a professional setting, that I work for them, that this is complicated and messy and absolutely the worst idea. But the truth is, I’m done pretending.
I want them. I’vewantedthem since I realized what it meant to want a man. How am I supposed to say no to this?
