by Monroe, Max
Thank fuck.
“Now,” Thatch announces. “Back to Love Turned Accidental Marriage. I would like for us all to turn to page nine—”
“Nope,” Cap cuts him off. “No way, dude. We’re done with that fucking book.”
And just like that, he stands and starts collecting everyone’s copy of Love Turned Accidental Marriage, but when he reaches Thatch, the two engage in some kind of literary tug-of-war.
“Don’t you fluffing dare!”
“Let go of the book, T!”
But me, on the other hand? Well, I’m trying to make sure I didn’t just piss my pants.
Holy fuck, that was a close call. Too close of a call, in fact.
Note to self: Do not answer texts from Lena at book club meetings.
Chaos continues to ensue, and we all sit back and watch Cap and Thatch face off over a romantic comedy paperback.
“Fine!” Cap relents when he realizes he is completely outmatched. “Keep your stupid book! But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re done with it!” He tosses everyone else’s books across the room. They hit the wall with a loud thud and scatter along the floor.
“Shit just got real,” Harrison mutters, and Milo bites back his laughter.
Instantly, Cap agrees. “You’re right, Harry. Shit just got real. With a brand-new book.”
After walking around the table and toward a box that sits near the door, Cap pulls it into his arms and starts tossing a new book everyone’s way.
“Secret Lover?” Trent reads the title out loud.
“Boys, I give to you our new read.” Cap grins victoriously, and Thatch tosses his new paperback to the ground and, while remaining sitting, stomps on it with his shoe.
“Goddammit, I’m not fluffing reading it until we discuss Love Turned Accidental Marriage!”
Cap ignores him, though, and continues right along. “Secret Lover is a fantastic contemporary romance that I think we can all learn some very valuable life lessons from.”
Wes turns the book over and starts reading the blurb out loud. “A sexy, contemporary tale about forbidden love and what happens when you fall for your best friend’s little sister… What the fuck does this have to do with any of our lives?”
Those words hit a little too close to home, and I have to blink several times and double-check the blurb on the back of my copy to make sure my ears didn’t mishear something.
But I didn’t. It’s literally a book about a guy falling for his best friend’s little sister.
The irony, the mere coincidence of it all, has turned the air so thick around me that I’m practically choking again.
“What the hell?” Milo questions. “What lessons am I supposed to learn from this?”
Cap smirks. “I think it’s safe to say the damage is already done in your case. I mean, you’re marrying your best friend’s little sis in less than two weeks, for fuck’s sake. But I know there’re plenty of other people—” he glares at Harrison “—who could really learn something from this.”
Ah fuck.
“I might be reading into this, but considering everyone in this group besides me and Theo is either engaged or married, I have a feeling this new book pick has something to do with me.” Harrison chuckles, and I have the strong urge to inconspicuously leave the room.
“That’s interesting, Harry,” Cap says, running his fingers along his chin. “Why would you make the assumption this is about you? Only guilty people make assumptions…”
Harrison smirks—since he’s actually just an innocent sap, but I—the real guilty motherfucker—feel incredibly close to puking.
“Is there something you want to tell the group? Any sins you’d like to confess? Are you a fucking sister-chaser?”
Son of a bitch. Is it getting hot in here?
I adjust the collar of my shirt, and Harrison, the fuck, he won’t shut up.
“I’d like to request of the book club court that I deserve adequate counsel before any interrogations occur.”
“Fucking hell, Harrison,” Milo chimes in. “Stop poking the beast.”
“What?” he asks and holds both hands in the air like he doesn’t know he’s about to make Cap’s head explode. “I’m not poking.”
“You’re fucking poking,” Wes mutters.
But thankfully, or possibly unfortunately, in the midst of all the tension, Thatch has decided to pick his paperback back up and start scanning the first chapter.
“Okay. Okay,” he says with a few nods of his head. “I’m seeing heat. I’m seeing humor. I’m seeing swoon. Even though I’m still fluffing pissed about how this went down because Cap is a motherfucker, looks like we have some key ingredients for a good romance, boys.”
“So, is this or isn’t it our next read?” Trent asks. “I mean, it’s really hard to tell what’s happening right now, what with Cap’s vein sticking out of his forehead and Harrison babbling bullshit.”
“Sadly, I think it’s our next read,” Kline answers with a shrug. “I mean, it might be the end of book club, but yeah.”
“The end of book club?” Wes’s ears perk up, suddenly very interested in the new pick. “Sometimes the best things are worth the risk, you know. I mean, sometimes shit doesn’t work out, people break up, book clubs shut down, but that’s cool. I’m game.”
“Before we dive in,” Harrison adds. “Does this one end in an HEA?”
“Yes.”
“So, he ends up with the sist—” he starts to say the very last thing he should say right now, but Kline is quick with his hand again and slaps it right across Harrison’s mouth.
“New book pick is Secret Lover. Read it by next Tuesday.”
“What? Next Tuesday?” Wes’s eyes go wide. “Book club meetings are supposed to be biweekly.”
“We have to fit in one last book club before Milo’s wedding.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“I can’t make it,” Harrison chimes in. “I’m going to be in LA for a few business meetings.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be there,” Cap says firmly, and Harrison laughs as he looks around the room to scan the seriousness of faces.
“But I literally can’t be there, and I’m not canceling a business trip for book club, dude.”
“You’ll be there,” Cap repeats.
“You know what, I think I might have a business trip next week too,” Wes says, but Thatch ignores him completely.
Instead, he picks up his stupid gavel and slaps it on the poker table. “Book club is officially adjourned until next week.”
Another meeting finished.
Another book—one that revolves around a guy falling for his best friend’s little sister—to make Carey read.
Sheesh. Talk about a little too close to home.
Pretty sure you mean a little too close to your home. You know, the one where Lena will be…tonight.
I’m not sure if I should be disappointed or concerned for my sanity that the thought doesn’t make me any less excited about seeing her.
Lena
“All right, I think we can call it a night,” Loro says, and I check the time on my phone to see its half past nine.
“You sure?” I ask, even though, secretly, I’m hoping he doesn’t change his mind.
All day, we’ve been busy in his Tribeca loft turned studio and workspace, working through inventory of his new line that just graced New York Fashion Week’s runway and piecing together the right outfits to showcase in his high-end boutique in SoHo.
The day started out with me, Loro, twenty of his staff, and ten models.
But now we’re the only two left.
“Oh, lovely, I’m certain.” He winks. “Let’s reconvene tomorrow after we’ve both had some rest.”
I grin, nod, and glance around the vast space. It’s a mess of beautiful Gianni pieces, accompanied by accessories and Polaroid photos of the models wearing our favorite styles so far. “I’m just going to organize this—”
“Uh,
no, you’re not.” He shakes his head. “You’re going to leave everything just like it is, and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“You do realize it’s my job to do this.”
“It’s your job to do it tomorrow.”
“Considering I’m your intern and you’re the Loro Gianni, famous fashion designer for people like freaking Jennifer Aniston and Taylor Swift, I think you might be going way too easy on me.”
“What were you expecting? A little more Devil Wears Prada?”
I snort. “Actually, yeah.”
“Five years ago, I probably would’ve been,” he says with an amused smile, showcasing his perfectly white teeth. “But I’m getting old, lovely. Hell, I’m forty-two, and I don’t have it in me to play Cruella Da Ville.”
“Forty-two,” I retort. “That’s not old.”
“When you’ve been stuck in the world of judgmental and uber-critical high fashion, it might as well be ninety.”
I roll my eyes heavenward.
“You act like you’re disappointed I’m not riding your ass.”
“I mean, I expected at least shouting about impossible Starbucks orders…two a.m. calls asking me to find stilettos that don’t exist…you know, something,” I tease, and he smirks. “But I guess if this laid-back, not bitchy at all Gianni is what I have to work with, then I’ll deal with it.”
His grin is bigger than a 1960s beehive. “I’m so sorry this internship is such a chore for you.”
I feign a cavernous sigh. “You have no idea, Loro. No idea.”
He chuckles, stands up from his seat, and slips on his purple velvet Prada jacket. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to call my driver and get my old, but still fabulous, ass home. You need a ride to Harlem?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I’m all set.”
If I were going to my loft in Harlem, I would’ve taken him up on the offer.
But I’m not going there. I’m going to the top-secret location that is Theo’s place on the Upper East Side.
I’ve never been to his place, but there’s no doubt that Theo Cruz—billionaire heir to Cruz Enterprises and owner of Cruz Nightlife—lives in one of those New York apartments that would give Fredrik from Million Dollar Listing a big fat commission-check boner.
But his luxury apartment is unimportant.
I’m just excited to see him.
A little grin starts to quirk up the corners of my mouth when I think of tonight’s possibilities. Theo and me alone, with nothing but time to explore.
Yes, motherfucking, please.
While Loro stands near the floor-to-ceiling windows of the large loft to call his driver, I grab my favorite Burberry trench coat off the back of my chair.
But just as I’m slipping it over my arms, I get an idea.
A good idea.
A brilliant idea.
One that makes me damn near giddy, and if I’m being honest, hella horny.
Oh yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do…
Thirty minutes later, I’m stepping out of a taxi and being greeted by a doorman standing outside the massive building where Theo’s place is located.
I tell him my name, and he doesn’t waste any time leading me toward the elevator nestled inside the palatial, mostly marble-encased lobby.
Twenty floors up, I’m stepping off the elevator and standing directly in front of Theo’s door.
I rap my knuckles against the wood and swallow past the excitement that’s bouncing around inside my throat.
He opens the door, and I note immediately that he’s forgone his usual suit and tie for a simple pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and bare feet.
I’m not the least bit disappointed.
Theo Cruz looks fine as hell.
“Well, hello,” he greets as he opens the door to his apartment, and my heart kicks up in rhythm at the sexy smile that sits on his lips.
“Hello.” I wink and step inside, my favorite black stilettos tip-tapping across the marble onyx floors of the massive entry.
He shuts the door behind me with a click, and I don’t hesitate to walk farther into his apartment, taking in the high ceilings, sleek furniture, and massive windows that highlight the uber-expensive space.
Goddamn, this place is huge.
Once I’m in the kitchen, I turn around and lean one hip against the long white island in the center of the room. “How was your day, dear?” I ask with a teasing smile and proceed to undo the belt that’s wrapped firmly around my waist.
Theo’s smirk is one-hundred percent entertained. “It was…interesting.”
“Interesting?” The belt is now a mere memory dangling past my hips, and I move my fingers to the first button. “Do tell.”
“Well, I had a certain devious woman texting me about my cock in the middle of a book club meeting.”
“A book club meeting?” I feign shock and pop open the first button of my coat.
I already knew he was at book club.
But I couldn’t stop myself from riling him up a bit.
“Yeah,” he answers. “A book club meeting that her brother was at, in fact.”
“Oh, man…” I tsk my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Sounds like she was just asking for trouble.”
When the second and third and fourth buttons are released, Theo’s eyes turn hooded.
And by the time I slip the trench coat off my shoulders and let it fall on the ground, those blue eyes of his are dark as night.
Naked with only a pair of stilettos accenting my legs, I hop up onto the kitchen island and spread my legs wide.
His gaze moves from my face to my bare breasts to my already hard nipples and to my hips, and once they slide down my legs, they lift back up and fixate on the one place where I’m throbbing for him.
Yes, please.
I bite my bottom lip and trail one fingertip up my thigh. “You wouldn’t happen to be hungry, would you, Theo?”
“Starving.”
Theo
Lena. Naked. Sitting on my kitchen island.
Fuck me. She’s sexy.
While normally, showing up naked beneath a trench coat and a pair of heels is the start to every bad porno, when it comes to Lena, it is the hottest, most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.
I rake my gaze over her body again, taking my time and savoring this blessed view, while she sits with her creamy thighs spread wide.
Her gaze is heated.
Her breasts are full, and her perfect pink nipples are hard and ready for my mouth.
And right between her thighs, I can already see the glistening of her arousal.
Fuck. My cock is at full attention now.
“C’mon, Theo,” she whispers. “Don’t you want to?”
Of course I want to. No fucking question. I’m just starting to think I might want something else even more—I want inside her.
“You’re bad,” I whisper back, and I reach down to undo the button and zipper of my jeans. I push them down past my thighs and kick them across the floor when they reach my ankles. “And you know what happens to bad girls?”
She bites her lip and shakes her head.
“They get fucked.” I slide my cock out of my boxer briefs and move toward her. “Hard.”
When I grab her hips and pull her off the island, she wraps her thighs around my hips and needy little moans leave her lips.
I press myself right at her entrance, so very close to being inside her, and her thighs squeeze my hips tighter as she tries to wiggle herself onto my hard length.
But I don’t let her.
Instead, I just stay right there, almost inside but not, relishing the delicious tension and desire that’s growing between us.
“Please, Theo,” she begs. “Please.”
When I finally put her out of her misery and start to push my cock inside her, her needy little moans turn greedy and demanding.
“God, yes.”
I grip her ass, and in one fluid movement, I thrust all the way in.
It’s bliss. She’s bliss.
Lena leans forward and locks her lips with mine while her nails scratch down my back. I slip my tongue into her mouth and kiss her hard as I start up a rhythm that has her thighs shaking around my hips.
And I just want more, more, more from her.
I want to be deeper inside her.
I want to hear more of her moans.
I want to feel how tight her sweet pussy grips me when she comes.
I want it all. Everything she has to give.
But I also want to take my time—to prolong this.
It’s heaven and hell, and I’m torn on whether to speed things up or slow them down.
“Harder,” she breathes into my ear. “Fuck me harder.”
“You want to come, don’t you, Lena? That greedy pussy of yours wants to come hard around my cock.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Her breaths are pants, and her nails dig deeper into my skin. “I want to come so bad.”
Fuck. She’s wild and so damn sexy that I’m having a hell of a time holding back.
“Please,” she begs again. “Please, Theo. Make me come.”
All willpower is gone after that. My self-control is out the fucking window as I thrust my cock inside her. Over and over and over again.
When I feel the first trembles of her orgasm, I bury my face into her chest and suck and eat her at her breasts until those trembles come faster and harder.
Sweat beads at my forehead, and my breaths turn erratic as the pleasure of it all consumes me.
And when her head falls back and her pussy locks around my cock like a damn vise, I grip Lena’s ass and ride out my orgasm while I’m pressed deep.
My climax is so intense my thighs go weak, and I have to reach out with one hand to clutch the kitchen island just to keep us upright.
Fucking hell. I feel like I’ll never get enough of this. Enough of her.
Probably because you’re falling for her…
My already panting breath gets caught up in my lungs, and I force myself to take a big gulp of air.
Am I falling for her?
Yeah, you idiot. You fucking know you are.