Page 65 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“I do see you.”
I reach out. I can’t help it. I place my hand on her exposed skin.
Her skin is cool, but she burns under my touch. She arches into my hand, a small, involuntary movement.
“You wore the black dress,” I murmur, tracing the line of her spine with my thumb.
“You said it was safe,” she whispers.
“I lied.”
She turns her head to look at me. Her lips are parted.
“It isn’t safe,” I say, my voice dropping. “It’s devastating. The front is a lie. The back is the truth. It exposes your vulnerability.”
“I thought you liked vulnerability,” she says breathlessly. “Isn’t that the core of your precious algorithm?” she teases softly.
“I do.” I slide my hand up to the nape of her neck, my fingers tangling in the loose strands of her hair. “Tessa. Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Did you like it?”
She blinks. “Did I like what?”
“Being with Owen.”
She flushes crimson. She tries to pull away, but I hold her steady.
“Asher, I can’t talk about this with you.”
“Why? Because of the rules?”
“Because it’s weird!” she hisses. “You’re his brother, and you share a company.”
“We aren’t like other brothers, Tessa. What belongs to one often belongs to all.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” she says, backing away like I’ve slapped her. She stares at me, eyes wide and horrified. “Is this a real thing? Are you actually talking about sharing me?”
The pressure in my chest spikes. She doesn’t understand the dynamic. She thinks she can isolate the variables.
“Owen won’t share you,” I say quietly. “He already staked his territory.”
“Owen…” she falters.
“Owen is emotional,” I say, stepping closer, my thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind her ear. “He reacts to the immediate stimulus. He wants to keep you because you make him feel good. But he isn’t looking at the long term.”
“And you are?”
“Always.” I lean closer. I can smell her. Floral, heavy, and mixed with champagne. “The volatility between my brothers is too high. If you choose Owen, Ethan tears the world apart. If you choose Ethan, Owen destroys himself just to spite him.”
“And if I’m with you?” she whispers.
“I’m the buffer. I’m the only neutral ground. Starting with me is the only way this doesn’t end in blood.”
“You make it sound like math,” she shudders, but she doesn’t pull away. “Like I’m a problem to be solved.”
“You’re the most beautiful problem I have ever seen.”
