Page 50 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
Damn. I give them a good squeeze, and she shudders against me.
Next time, get the nipple clamps out.
I pinch harder and slam into her, our bodies smacking underneath the hot water. She cries out as her body goes rigid, her pussy clamping onto me as she comes. When I come, it’s with a groan that feels like a vow.
She trembles against me, and I hold her through it. After, we stay like that for a long time. The water growing cooler. Our breathing slowing. I finally reach around and shut it off.
We step out together. Towels. Quiet. The kind of quiet that feels like peace. I dry her off first, careful and slow.
She doesn’t speak. She lets me care for her. And it’s not just sex anymore. It hasn’t been for a while. This is a different kind of aftercare.
She doesn’t let go of my hand when we walk back into the bedroom. It’s a small thing. Two fingers laced through mine,like she’s not ready to say she needs comfort but isn’t ready to pretend she doesn’t either. I hold on like it matters.
Because it does.
The room is still fogged from the heat, the windows beaded with moisture, the soft scent of soap lingering in the air. I grab a blanket from the foot of the bed, toss it up to cover the sheets we never pulled down last night. We climb in without speaking.
She curls into me like she’s done it before—like this is already routine. No, not routine. Natural.
Her head finds the space between my neck and shoulder, one leg tangling over mine. I wrap an arm around her back, palm pressed to her spine, and breathe in the scent of her hair, warm and clean and something faintly floral that doesn’t match the mountains or the moment but is entirely her.
For a long while, we just lie there. Breathing. Listening to the wind outside the windows. I expect her to talk. To pull away. To tell me she’s sorry or that we need to be careful or that this changes things.
But she doesn’t. She just stays.
That’s worse, somehow. Because it feels like hope. And hope is dangerous.
I rest my chin on the top of her head, close my eyes, and try to memorize this exact moment. The weight of her on my chest. The way her breathing evens out. The way I can feel her eyelashes flick against my skin when she blinks.
This is the part I always skip.
I’ve had sex that meant something before. Not often. Not recently. But enough to know what it’s like to lie in bed with someone and think,don’t ruin this.I always ruin it. Usually by leaving. Sometimes by saying too much. Or staying too long. But today, I don’t move. I stay right here.
Because Parker’s not just a woman I’m falling for. She’s the kind I’d burn for.
I’ve spent so long building my life brick by brick. Climbing ladder after ladder while people like Jack and Gavin were handed the top rung and told to reach higher. I earned everything I have. Not a single inch was given.
Which means I know what it looks like when things fall apart. They always have before.
The board won’t care if I’m in love. They’ll care that I broke rules. That I blurred lines. That I touched something I wasn’t supposed to.
And Vivian? She’ll crucify me for this. Not because she hates me. Because, to her, I’m disposable.
I was always the one from the outside. The workhorse. The numbers guy. Useful, but replaceable. She finds out Parker’s in my bed? I lose more than a relationship. I lose everything. She’d see to it.
And the worst part is—I’d still choose this.
I shift just slightly to press my lips to her hairline. She murmurs something I can’t make out and presses closer. She trusts me. That trust is like a knife. Because I don’t know if I can keep her safe.
I want to. God, Iwantto. I’d put myself between her and the board. Between her and Vivian. Between her and anything that could hurt her.
But I don’t know if that will be enough. I don’t know if I’ll ever be enough.
She sighs against my chest.
“You okay?” I whisper.
“Mm-hmm.”
