Page 42 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
“It’s perfect.”
She rolls her eyes—then jumps. The splash is sharp, satisfying. She comes up gasping, hair plastered to her head, blinking hard. “Oh my god—it’scold.”
“Welcome to the mountains,” I say, swimming closer. “You’ll adjust.”
“I better.”
We tread water together, not touching but close enough to feel the warmth bleeding off each other. The silence here is thicker than in the city. No traffic. No sirens. Just birdsong, the occasional breeze through pine, and the soft ripple of water around us.
She tips her head back and closes her eyes. “I forgot what it felt like.”
“What?”
“Stillness.”
I nod. “That’s why we come here.”
She glances at me, her gaze softer now. Less guarded. “You come out here a lot?”
“Used to. Not so much lately.”
“Why?”
“Busy. Always something to fix. Some fire to put out.”
She floats on her back for a moment, arms stretched. “This place is…grounding.”
I watch her. The curve of her neck. The slope of her collarbone. The way the sunrise paints her in warm light.
“You’re beautiful,” I say before I can stop myself.
She stills. Then sinks back upright, water sliding down her cheeks. Her expression changes. Something quiet breaks open behind her eyes. She swims toward me. No hesitation this time.
She reaches for my shoulders and pulls herself into me, wrapping her legs around my waist. I catch her, hands firm on her hips, and her mouth finds mine. It’s different this time.
Not hungry, not frantic. Slow. Searching. Like she’s finally letting herself want it. Wantme.
Her fingers thread into my hair. Her breath is warm against my mouth. And I hold her like I’m afraid she’ll disappear. We kiss until the cold doesn’t matter. Until the water’s an afterthought.
I swim us back to the dock, lifting her as I go. She laughs into my neck. I haul her up, dripping and shivering. She’s right in front of me, legs dangling over the edge of the dock.
“I have no towel,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivers.
“I’ll warm you up.”
Her smile wobbles. “Jack?—”
I part her thighs, looking up once, checking. She nods. So, I make a meal of her.
She’s already wet—more from want than the lake—and she arches under me, fingers gripping my hair. She tastes like something I want to memorize. Something I memorized seven years ago.
Her moans are soft, breathy, whispered against the morning light. I add my fingers to the mix, and she clenches her thighs around me, the threat of suffocation becoming real. If this is how I die, then this is how I die.
I raise her thighs over my shoulders, diving deeper into her. Her clit is firm beneath my lips, and her core is practically humming on my fingertips. She comes with a gasp, thighs trembling around my shoulders.
I crawl up to kiss her again, and we take our time. Tongues, teeth, lips, shared breaths. I’m wrapped up in her, and she’s wrapped up in me. Nothing exists outside this moment.
That’s when I know it. I’m gone for her. And there’s no coming back.
