Page 81 of Best Frenemies

Wes overhears Kline’s remark and grins at me. “We’ll definitely be in touch soon, Mack,” he says over the continued arguing between Thatch and Cap. “I can promise you that.”

Kline nods in agreement, and I take them both at their word, grabbing my shit and heading out of Thatch’s office before I end up in the crossfire.

By the time I’m in the elevator and heading toward the front lobby, I find myself laughing at the absurdity of this whole debacle.

Honestly, none of it should surprise me. Thatch is notorious for being a loose cannon, and even moonlights as a tattoo artist, which I’m pretty sure is a first in the world of billionaires.

Thoughts of my razzing fresh in my mind, I take out my phone and text my supposed—according to the moguls upstairs—future bride.

Me: I miss your sexy ass.

She sends me back an eye-roll emoji. I smile.

Me: When can I see you again?

Katy: I might be free tonight…

I know Katy Dayton well enough to know that she doesn’t mince words. She can be stubborn, fierce, and tell it like it is when she wants to. And this coy and playful response of hers has me downright reeling in excitement.

Me: You might or you are?

Katy: It depends on what the plans are.

She doesn’t give a shit what I have planned.I just have to set the hook.

Me: Come over to my place around 7. I’ll feed you dinner and eat your perfect pussy.

Katy: I guess I can fit you in.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

I don’t waste any time sending her my address.

This will be the first time I have Katy over to my place, and I’ll be damned if it’s going to be anything less than orgasmic.

Katy

I’m on the subway, and I don’t have any underwear on.

This is certainly a first for me. It’s not every day your beaver can feel the breeze of the tram doors opening and shutting.

I have never, in all my thirty years, done something as wanton and daring as this for a man.

My eyes move across the aisle, where a woman in a gray business pantsuit and white silk blouse sits. She’s currently reading something on her phone, and I glance down at my current attire—a khaki trench coat and a pair of nude patent leather heels.

A little thrill runs through my chest when I think about what Mack will do when he realizes I’ve come over to his place with nothing on underneath my coat.

Oh boy.

Even though I’ve seen him every day at school, teased and flirted and secretly kissed him when no one was around, it’s been a week since he came over to my apartment. Courtesy of him, that nightandthe next morning included a lot of sex and a lot of orgasms, but I’ve done nothing but crave them ever since.

I’d be a big fat liar if I said I wasn’t ready for more of his brand of fun.

Or maybe it’sourbrand of fun?

Whatever it is, I guess I can officially say I’ve thrown caution to the wind and I’m just enjoying it. Temporarily, of course.

The subway jostles from side to side as it slows for its next stop, and my bare nipples rub against the material of my coat. The odd sensation causes the teeniest throb between my thighs, and the logical, not-impulsive-at-all side of myself is scandalized by my current behavior.

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