Page 18 of Crushing On Bestie's Billionaire Brother

As I approach the conference room, my footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway, I see Chloe's focused gaze fixed on her laptop screen. The soft glow casts a warm light on her face, accentuating the almond shape of her eyes and the narrow line of her nose. I feel like my eyes are glued to that face.

"Chloe," I call out, with both caution and longing.

She looks up, her eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of surprise before her expression settles into a guarded mask. I can sense the unresolved emotions that lie beneath the surface, the unspoken desires that we both struggle to contain.

"What are you doing here, Stephen?" she asks, as if daring me to cross the invisible boundaries we've established.

I take a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest. "I was just checking up on you. It's late, and I wanted to make sure you're okay."

Chloe's gaze softens, her guard momentarily slipping. "I'm fine, Stephen. You don't have to worry about me."

But I do worry. I worry about the delicate balance we are trying to maintain. As much as I want to protect her, a part of me yearns to surrender to the intoxicating desire that simmers beneath the surface.

I take another step, my voice barely a whisper. "Chloe, there's something between us, something undeniable. We can't keep pretending it doesn't exist."

Her eyes search mine, searching for a hint of vulnerability, a sign that I'm being sincere. "And what do you propose we do about it?” She pleads.

My pulse quickens as I say, "I’m sorry . . . I don't have all the answers, Chloe. But I know that every time we try to resist, it becomes harder. Maybe . . . maybe we need to confront this, face it head-on."

Her gaze flickers, her lips parting slightly as she contemplates my words.

By now, she has stood up and is facing me. I’m acutely aware of the fact that her soft body is kind of trapped between me and the table behind her. And my head is swirling with images of her sprawled on the table, her legs pushed wide apart so I can watch her come as I fuck her, over and over and over—

“Stephen,” Chloe purrs with desire before crushing her lips against mine.

The air around us sizzles as our mouths consume each other hungrily. I have backed her up against the table so that she is now perched on the edge and I am looming over her, one of my hands roaming and gripping the sides of her waist while the other slides down to explore her neck and shoulders, pushing her back so her chest swells up in invitation.

With my teeth, I start to unbutton her blouse as Chloe moans raggedly, “Stop, Stephen, someone might see!” Her words have the same effect as a sudden cold shower. I stop and lean back, so she can sit up and straighten her clothes. I step away and adjust my pants (which are uncomfortably tight now). She’s right. We can’t do this here.

As we finally break apart, breathless and longing, I meet Chloe's gaze. "Chloe, I . . . I don't know what the future holds for us. But I know that I want you.” I gently take her face in my hands and stroke her cheeks. “And I promise, whatever happens, I will always be honest with you."

She nods, her eyes filling with longing and vulnerability. "I want you too, Stephen. But more than that, I need you to be honest."

As I locked eyes with her, I made a solemn promise to protect her from harm. Jonathan's plans of retribution be damned. I wouldn't be part of any such schemes. Going forward would require carefully walking a fine line between my journalistic duty and the bond that was growing ever stronger between Chloe and myself.

It wouldn't be easy, but I had determined to do right by her.

Chapter eleven

Chloe

Iwakeuptothe sound of my alarm, groggily reaching out to silence it. Another day begins, and I’m filled with the anticipation of stolen moments of desire. As I lie in bed, memories of my encounters with Stephen flood my mind, making my pussy wet and my nipples hard.

Being the gentleman, Stephen is taking it slow with me, even though I know he lusts for me with every bone of his body. Instead of rushing me into sex, he takes me out on dates—dreamy, swoony ones that tend to involve alotof making out and finger fucking me untill my eyes roll back.

But as our secret rendezvous continue, I find myself grappling with a new challenge: keeping my evolving relationship with him hidden from Tiffany.

Tiffany and I have been inseparable for years, sharing secrets, dreams, and countless moments of laughter. But now, I find myself caught between loyalty to her and the intoxicating pull of something deeper with her brother. It's a delicate balancing act, a constant juggling of emotions and carefully crafted lies.

As I get ready for my coffee date with Tiffany, I can't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at me. Tiffany has started to grow suspicious, her once carefree and trusting nature giving way to questions and probing glances. I try my best to deflect her inquiries, but the damned woman knows me too well.

Yet I continue going out with Stephen, seeking solace and passion in the hidden corners of the city.

Our first rendezvous takes us to a museum, where we roam through the corridors, stealing glances and discreet touches. We find ourselves standing before a mesmerizing masterpiece in which a woman reclines on an ornate bed, naked except for the silk of the sheets snaking around her limbs. A flush of heat makes me lean closer to Stephen, unable to tear my eyes away from the canvas.

"Ah, here we are," Stephen says, his voice filled with playful anticipation. "The infamous painting by Édouard Manet, 'Olympia.' It's a prime example of artistic audacity and unabashed sensuality."

I raise an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. "Oh really?” I say as my hands slyly stroke the zippered fabric between his legs. “You seem well-versed in the world of art, Mr. Connoisseur."

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