Page 67 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
And that dress.
“Turn around,” I say.
“What?” Her voice is thin.
“Turn around,” I repeat. “Let me see the dress.”
She hesitates, then slowly turns in a circle.
The front is modest. The back is a sin.
It dips so low that I can see the dimples above her ass. It exposes the delicate ridge of her spine. It’s the most erotic thing I have ever seen, because it’s hidden.
It’s a secret kept for the people she lets walk behind her.
Like Asher.
“Did he touch you?” I ask. My voice is rougher than I intended.
Tessa turns back to face me. Her eyes spark with defiance. “That’s none of your business, Mr. Branson.”
“It’s my business when you’re doing it on company property during a company event.”
“We are in a stairwell,” she snaps. “And he was comforting me because your beta launch party is a shark tank.”
“I told you it was a shark tank.” I step closer. “I told you to be prepared.”
“I was prepared! I handled the reporter. I handled the investors. I have been smiling and shaking hands for three hours while you skulked in the corner nursing a drink.”
“I wasn’t skulking. I was observing.”
“Observing what? Me?”
“Yes,” I admit. “You.”
I trap her in plac. I place my hands on the wall on either side of her head, caging her.
“I saw Owen with you at the bar,” I say low. “I saw him whisper in your ear. I saw the way you blushed.”
“Owen is… friendly.”
“Owen is a predator who thinks he’s a puppy,” I correct. “And Asher? I saw you follow him. I saw you slip into the dark right after he did.”
“Asher is my friend.”
“Asher is a man,” I growl. “And he wants you. They both want you.”
“And you don’t?” She challenges me.
She tilts her head back. Her lips are parted. Her eyes are dilated.
I stop breathing.
“I told you,” I rasp. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From who? Them?”
“From us,” I say. “From the mess we make.”
