Dirty Little Promise (Forbidden Desires #2)

Cooper.

As I closed the door behind me, all three of them turned to look at me. In that instant, I froze and completely shut down for a moment. If someone had asked me my name or why I was there, I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell them.

All I knew was that this was the first time in a week I’d seen my little brother—the man who’d told Emma about Ashley. The man who’d tried to ruin everything for me.

And he had the nerve to look me in the eye like nothing had happened?

I saw red. With rage fueling my blood, I launched myself across the room and knocked him from his seat. He scrambled back, scuttling on hands and feet until he pushed himself to stand, and I dove, trying to catch him by the chin and knock him back on his ass. Unfortunately for me, though, we’d been raised on the same tough streets. He ducked, anticipating my move, and aimed a punch of his own at my solar plexus.

I grunted as air whooshed out of me, but in truth, I barely felt it. My adrenaline was thrumming and I swung again, this time connecting with his nose, sending him reeling back until he slammed into the wall. I approached again but was stopped by what felt like an iron weight on my shoulder.

Quinn had stepped between us, and he glowered from me to Cooper and back again. “What the actual fuck—”

“That fucker told Emma about Ashley,” I spat out. “That was my story to tell, and he knows it.”

Cooper didn’t bother to respond. He merely held his injured nose and glared at me while Quinn rolled his eyes.

“Is this the time? Really?” Quinn shook my shoulder, hard. “Take your seats and put your differences aside. We need to work together on this, and I don’t need to deal with your petty bullshit on top of real pressing issues.”

The publicist, who’d been standing in the corner and watching everything silently, took her seat again. Quinn made his way back to my desk while I reluctantly took a seat across from him.

His nose still cupped in his hands, Cooper dropped into the seat next to me. “You punch like a girl,” he muttered under his breath.

My hands were still shaking as I glared at him, dying to show him exactly how hard I could punch, when Quinn smacked the desk with the heel of his hand.

“Now is not the time for fighting,” he said through gritted teeth. “We’re going to handle our corporate issues and then, when this clears up, we can sort out whatever you two are fighting about. Until then, shelve it.”

He was right. I knew it, and was already starting to feel like an ass for going after Cooper in the office when things were clearly dire.

I glanced at Cooper, who looked back at me, and a silent, grudging understanding passed between us.

“So, how are we going to fix this?” I looked at the flustered-looking publicist and then Quinn.

“From the ground up. We’ve already lost fifteen clients—”

“Fifteen? Fuck.” Cooper groaned.

Quinn glared at him and then continued. “Like I was saying, we’ve lost fifteen clients, but I think if we divide up the rest and call each of them individually, we have a chance at keeping the majority. We won’t issue a statement until later tomorrow, and in the meantime, Fiona is going to distribute a memo to our employees about the incident.”

Fiona nodded at this.

“You have the lists for us?” I asked.

“Alyssa is drawing them up right now. And—” Quinn was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

Sonja appeared, a pot of coffee and mugs in her hands. The ceramic cups clanked as she set them on the desk between us, and I could feel her lingering gaze searching my face as she glanced from me to each of my brothers in turn.

“It’s going to be a long night. I’ll order food,” she said. “Anything specific?”

“Dinner would be great. We’re going to be here for a while. You and Alyssa will be fielding employee phone calls and cancellations,” Quinn said.

“Can do, chief. Coming right up.” Sonja nodded and stopped behind my chair to press her fingers into my shoulders in an awkward attempt at a massage.

“I’m fine, Sonja. Really,” I said.

She nodded, then let herself out of the room just as Alyssa pinged lists to all of our phones complete with client histories and phone numbers.

“Okay, gentlemen, let’s get to work,” Quinn said.

And so we did.

After everyone had cleared out of my office, I dialed one client at a time, referencing their specific needs and services with every call. Promising them complete discretion. It was grueling, exhausting work, and every time I looked at the clock, it felt as though another two hours had gone by. No politician would answer my call and their secretaries refused to take messages, but others did. There was light at the end of the tunnel.

Fiona’s memo was thoughtfully worded, and though a few girls had called in hysterics, the vast majority remained the cool, calm businesswomen I knew they would be. After what felt like seventy hours’ work and a half-dozen sandwiches, day turned into night, and I gathered the courage to surf the net for stories about the case.

The senator in question had been released into the care of a rehab facility, but our employee was still in custody. Tomorrow, we’d have to decide whether to find her a lawyer or cut ties with her to save the company. It was a conversation I wasn’t looking forward to, but there would be a lot of those as the next few days went on.

When it was finally too late to call clients, I took to the small couch on the far side of my office and hunched over my phone, trying to come up with a speech for what was sure to be tomorrow’s media circus.

Before long, my head was spinning. I leaned back on the cushions, desperate for relief from what felt like the world’s most pressure-filled couple of days. But then, when everything seemed too overwhelming, I found myself not in my office at all.

Instead, my eyes drifted closed and I was back in the hotel suite in Florida . . .

• • •

A soft knock sounded at the door. Curious, I went to answer it only to find Emma standing at the door wearing nothing but her tiny blue-and-white polka-dot bikini.

“I think I got sunburned. Will you look?”

She walked past me into the room, stopping the side of the bed, and turned to show me her back and the lush curve of her ass. Just above her bikini bottom was a thin strip of redness, and I swallowed hard.

“Yeah, you’re a little burned. But I have aloe in the fridge.”

I grabbed the lotion from the mini fridge and returned to her, slathering the cold liquid on my hands. Slowly, I caressed her back, moving my hands in circles as I rubbed the healing lotion onto her skin.

She let out a little moan of relief, and my cock throbbed as I remembered exactly how good and loud and needy that moan of hers could be.

Gently, I slid my hand just below the hem of her bottoms, my fingertips itching to move lower still, to cup her firm ass, to make her whole body slick with aloe and watch her slide against me.

“I know what you want,” she said, and though her tone was innocent enough, there was no mistaking her meaning.

I said nothing. I didn’t have to.

Instead, I watched as she hooked her arm behind her back and tugged at her bikini top, allowing it to unravel at her touch. When the fabric was nothing but a ball in her hands, she turned to me, revealing the stiff peaks of her nipples, the swell of her creamy pale breasts.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“What are you doing?” My voice was little more than a growl.

“You want to fuck me.” She handed me the bikini top. “So, fuck me, big boy. I want to feel you inside me.”

Her dark blue eyes dared me to make my move, and that was all the consent I needed. Taking her bikini in hand, I tied her hands over her head and pushed her back onto the bed.

“No touching this time, pet,” I said, my voice husky as I sank to my knees in front of her and took her bikini bottoms in my teeth. I needed to see her, all of her. Needed to taste her sweetness on my tongue. But most of all, I needed to feel her.

My cock throbbed as I finally pulled her bottoms to the floor. She dropped her legs open for me, ready and wide, already slick and waiting for me.

With a growl, I moved to lick her long and deep, but suddenly something seemed wrong.

My aching, needy dick was twitching with hunger, but it also felt . . . pleasured, almost sated. But not entirely. I still needed her, needed to feel her warm and wet around me, but it was as if someone had hit the fast-forward button and we were already fucking.

I craned my neck to see Emma’s face, but she had vanished from the bed.

Confused, I sat up and opened my bleary eyes.

• • •