Page 71 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“And you thought… what?” I spin around to face her. “That you could just work your way through the brothers? That this was some kind of game to you?”
“It’s not a game,” she says, her voice trembling. “It just… happened.”
“Nothing just happens!” I shout, slamming my hand on the black marble desk. “We control the variables! We set the parameters! That is how we survive!”
“People aren’t variables, Ethan!” she yells back. She steps toward me, closing the distance. “We’re messy! We make mistakes! We feel things!”
“I don’t do feelings,” I lie. “I execute strategies.”
“Bullshit,” she spits. “You feel everything. I see it. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. I felt your heart beating out of your chest in the conference room last week.”
“That was a mistake.”
“Was it?” She steps closer. She’s standing right in front of me now, looking up at me with those defiant hazel eyes. “Then why haven’t you fired me?”
“I should,” I say, my voice low. “I should fire you right now for gross misconduct.”
“Do it,” she challenges. “Fire me. Send me home. Erase me.”
I stare at her.
She’s so beautiful it hurts. The black dress clings to her curves like a second skin. Her hair is messy from the wind on the terrace. Her chest is heaving.
She is a chaos agent. She is a liability.
And I want her so bad I can taste it.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“Why not?”
“Because if I fire you,” I rasp, “I’ll never see you again. And I don’t think I can survive that.”
Her eyes widen. Her breath catches.
“Ethan,” she breathes.
“I tried,” I say, shaking my head. “I tried to be the good guy. I tried to protect you from us. We’re broken, Tessa. We’re possessive and intense, and we don’t know how to share. Owen thinks he can charm you. Asher thinks he can analyze you. But me?”
I take a step forward, invading her space. I tower over her.
“I don’t want to charm you,” I say darkly. “And I don’t want to analyze you.”
“What do you want?” she whispers.
“I want to consume you.”
I reach out and grab her waist. I pull her flush against me, hard.
She gasps, her hands flying to my chest.
“You slept with Owen,” I say, looking down at her. “Was he gentle? Did he take his time?”
She blushes crimson. “Ethan…”
“Did he fuck you sweet?” I demand, my grip tightening on her hip. “Did he hold your hand?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
