Page 13 of The Merger
I wanted to strip her down, bend her over Tate’s desk, and spank her bare ass for spilling her drink on me.
I’m hard just imagining her peach-shaped behind up in the air waiting on me.
I bet that pussy is hot and wet. I wanted to slide my fingers through her slit and confirm that she was dripping for me today.“You need me, Gannon Brewer.”
She has no fucking idea.
Me: What are you telling me? Hands off because you’re fucking her?
Tate: No! She’s like my sister.
Me: Tate, brother, there’s nothing familial about her.
Tate: Well, don’t get familiar with her either. She’s off-limits, Gannon.
Me: You act like I’m a monster.
Tate: The two of you together would be more than the world can handle, and I won’t be the one to watch her cry and listen to you complain once it all blows up.
Me: You think too much.
I smile while imagining steam rising from Tate’s head as he stares at his phone. He’s always so protective of Carys, a trait that I admire. If you’re going to have feelings for someone—platonic or romantic—at least take it seriously. And that he does.
Tate: I can’t have this conversation with you.
Me: You texted me.
Tate: Because I can read a room.
Me:
Tate: I mean it.
Me:
“Because I can read a room, huh?” I say, staring at our exchange.I wonder what that means.
Carys is too young, too beautiful to want me. And Tate surely understands that I wouldn’t lead a girl like that along—let alone his best friend. Relationships are for the young and dumb; fortunately, I am neither of those things.
“I’m desperate if you haven’t noticed. Don’t make me go back to insurance.”
I want to shake this off and forget about Miss Matcha, but something about that line bothers me.Why is she desperate? Or was she being dramatic? Does she actually need this job?
I mosey around my office, stopping at the windows overlooking the city. It’s a beautiful evening. The sky boasts pinks and purples, and the traffic below crawls peacefully—from up here, at least.
Carys’s proposition lingers in the back of my brain, and I mull it over. Her sales pitch was impassioned. And if I’m not being a complete dickhead, she did make some sense. But logically speaking, I don’t need plant care to keep my staff happy. They’re paid well and respected. And my clients are mostly men who don’t give a damn about vegetation.
Still, if she wasn’t Tate’s best friend, and I wasn’t sure I’d struggle to keep my cock out of her mouth, I’d probably hire her for the hell of it.
I nibble at my bottom lip and then glance at the clock. I press 0 before I can overthink it.
“Yes, Mr. Brewer?” Kylie asks.
What am I doing?
“Hey, Kylie. How many office plants do we have in the building?”
“Sir, I have no idea. Do you want me to count them?”
