That evening, I mill around the upscale restaurant, nursing a beer and trying not to stare at Kate, who’s deep in conversation with Savannah. Beside me, Josh clutches his whiskey, his gaze all over her, too.
Fuck.
Not that I blame him. The beautiful blonde has the sort of face that starts wars and a body that incites undeniable lust. It’s not just the little black dress she wore to this cocktail party so the investors and the executive team could officially meet her—though that’s hot as hell. In fact, the sedate front of the garment demurely covers everything between her neck and her knees. But the back is almost nonexistent. Every man in the room has an unobstructed view of her graceful spine and unspoiled skin. I want to growl and snarl at every other dick sneaking an eyeful. What’s killing me more are the glances she keeps sending both Josh and me when she thinks we aren’t looking.
Our chemistry is fucking crazy. I know Josh feels it, too. He wants Kate every bit as badly as I do. The minute we laid eyes on her, professionalism evaporated. Caution wasn’t far behind.
And we’re supposed to babysit her in paradise? If she’s willing, there’s no way I don’t kiss her until she’s panting, press her to my mattress, and fill her pussy relentlessly with every inch I’ve got until she screams. Josh won’t abstain, either, especially since Force Financial lacks any kind of antifraternization clause and Kate doesn’t report directly to us.
This could get messy—fast.
“Damn…” Josh mutters beside me, visually undressing Kate.
I’ve already done that half a dozen times in the twenty minutes since this gathering started, so I can hardly rebuke him. “Yeah. We should discuss the elephant in the room.”
One thing I like about Josh? He doesn’t play games.
“We should.” He grins wryly. “I’d try the I-saw-her-first thing if keeping her to myself was what I wanted.”
I snort. “I know it’s not. But we had this conversation a few days ago. You know my hard limit.”
We can’t share her…no matter how much I suspect she’d love it and it would blow our minds.
“I heard you,” Josh assures me. “But…what if she’s different?”
“She’s not. She’s still a woman with family, friends, and feelings. Neither of us needs another heartache. Plus, she works here. You know how the grapevine functions.”
“I’m tired of the corporate Casanova routine.”
“An office threesome would be worse.” When Josh looks unconvinced, I plow on. “You want our coworkers to know about our sex life? We only managed to keep Taylor on the down-low because she worked on the other side of the city. Kate’s desk is two floors below ours. If we took her to bed and everything went south…all it would take is one vindictive word. She could fuck our reputations.”
“Or she could fall for us and—”
“Jesus, what fairy-tale world are you living in?”
“The one where we’re happy. Is that really asking so much?”
Josh has a point. I hate to admit it, but neither of us has been truly happy since Taylor. Just like my best friend, it isn’t that I missher.It’s that I miss the closeness, the feeling of rightness that gripped me when we took her together. I haven’t felt anything remotely like it since.
But logic has to prevail. No matter what we feel, we can’t collectively get involved with Kate.
Instead of pointing out my rationale again—he’s not listening—I attack from another angle. “You sound ready to go all in, despite the fact we met this woman a few hours ago. And we’ve exchanged what, twenty words with her?”
“Don’t be an asshole. And don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. I know you.”
That’s the problem. We’ve been friends for thirty years. Other than my mom, no one knows me better. Hell, when it comes to women, Josh understands me far more. He knows when I’m interested and when my feelings are involved.
“All right, fine. She’s gorgeous. She does it for me. I want to fuck her. I’d love to fuck her with you,” I murmur for him alone. “But use your head up north. Are you willing to risk professional suicide? I’m not. You shouldn’t be, either.”
Josh grits his teeth. He’s pissed, but I’m right. He needs to back off and stop filling my goddamn head with images that will keep me up half the night, trying to masturbate my need away. “This is ridiculous. People care if we make them money, not who we fuck. You’re just scared.”
“I’m practical.”
His scowl tells me he doesn’t agree. “What are you suggesting?”
“We should keep our hands off of her—”
“If she’s willing, do you really think that’s going to happen?”