Page 49 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
Her big blue eyes study me. My brow, my cheekbones, my jaw, before settling on my lips. “I appreciate that. Sometimes, in all of this, I feel like I’m just trying to catch up to you three.”
“Funny. I’m pretty sure the three of us think the same about you.”
She kisses me, her lips warm and soft. I kiss her back and take my time with it. Not rushed. Not reckless. She’s in my lap, legs folded on either side of me, arms around my neck, and I feel like I’m drowning.
But it’s not the bad kind of drowning—not the kind where you’re slipping under with no way back. This is something slower. Heavier. The kind where you realize you’ve already gone too deep to pretend you’re still safe.
She tastes like peppermint and coffee. Her fingers tighten in the hair at the nape of my neck, and I press a hand to the small of herback, holding her to me like I can make this moment last longer just by wanting it hard enough.
Her hips shift. Tentative. Questioning. I groan against her mouth. Can’t help it. She breaks the kiss first, eyes searching mine. “I don’t want to be a mistake.”
“You never could be.”
She rests her forehead against mine. “I feel like I’m floating and anchored all at once.”
“I know the feeling. Ever since the elevator.”
Her lips brush mine again, featherlight, then she pulls back and slides off my lap. I follow her with my eyes as she stands, then turns and walks toward the bathroom. She pauses at the door and glances over her shoulder.
No words. Just an invitation.
I rise without hesitation.
The shower’s still on. Hot, steady, fogging the glass and filling the air with heat that sticks to our skin. I shut the door behind us, then slowly and carefully undress her. When more skin is revealed, I kiss her there. Her quick breaths and sighs are the sweetest music.
Parker steps under the water first, eyes closing as the stream hits her shoulders. Her hair is loose, long strands clinging to her neck, her collarbone. I step in behind her, careful not to crowd her.
She leans back against me. I wrap my arms around her waist.
We stand like that for a minute. Maybe two. Breathing. Letting the water do what I can’t—wash away the doubt, the outsideworld, the impossible weight of what this could cost us. Her head tips back against my shoulder. My lips brush the side of her neck. She shivers.
Not from the cold.
I turn her in my arms. She looks up at me, water beading along her lashes, her lips parted, pink and wet and begging to be kissed again.
So I do.
Even slower now. Thorough. Like I’m tasting every ounce of hesitation she’s still carrying. She lets me take it from her. It’s an honor like no other.
My hands slide along her sides, across her stomach, over the curve of her hips. She arches into me, her fingers moving to my chest, down my ribs. Her touch is light at first, then firmer, more certain.
She wants this. So do I. But I want more than that.
I want her toknow—tofeel—that she’s not just another name in a long list of regrets. That she’s not something reckless or temporary or secret.
She murmurs, “I don’t know how to do this. The four of us, I mean.”
“You don’t have to know,” I say. “I’ve got you.We’vegot you. We’ll figure it out together.”
We kiss again. Harder. Then she turns. Bends slightly, bracing her hands against the wall. I press into her from behind, my hand sliding around to rest on her stomach. She moans my name as I push into her.
The water pounds above us. Steam curls around our bodies. And nothing else exists except the feeling of her around me, the sound of her gasps, the way her hips move to meet every thrust like we’ve done this a thousand times.
She clutches my forearm. I bury my face in the crook of her neck. Our bodies move in rhythm, in heat, in silence that says everything we can’t. I cup her tits from behind, flicking my thumbs over her nipples to make her squirm in my arms. She whispers, “Pinch.”
Did she really just… So, I do. Not too hard?—
“Harder.”
