Right. Message received then. No more discussion about that.
“Here’s Killian and Connor,” he murmurs, his gaze drifting over my shoulder.
I turn to see the Quinn brothers approaching us. I can’t handle the top three together. Did they see me dislodging my dress from my butt? They’re approaching from that direction. I’m worse than Libby at the comic convention.
They both look unfairly gorgeous. I’ve only talked to them at company events. Never when my nipples were trussed in silk though.
As if on cue, JP’s hand finds the small of my back, sending a ripple of goose bumps across my skin. “Killian,Connor. I believe you’re acquainted with Lucy from our tech division?”
“Hi!” I squeak.
Their dual gaze flicks back and forth, sizing me up and down, then darting to JP. A spark of something unreadable ignites in Killian’s eyes. “Hello, Lucy,” he drawls.
“We’re doing the hackathon for Tangra at my Bear Mountain villa this week. I thought I’d bring along one of the team to this.” JP sounds mildly defensive.
“Lucy.” Connor, the younger Quinn brother, flashes me a reassuring smile. “We met a few months back. I’m sorry to hear about your accident. How are you holding up?”
“Oh! Fine! Well, surviving, I guess.”
“I trust the company’s providing you all the necessary support. Should you face any issues, feel free to reach out to us.”
“Thanks.” I smile. “That’s really kind of you.”
Network, Lucy. This is your chance. Engage the big bosses with some sharp, insightful comments.
“I like your tuxes. You both look great.”
For fuck’s sake.
They chuckle.
Heat pricks my cheeks as I desperately try to retreat into the safety of my champagne flute.
“And you look beautiful.” Connor grins at me. “How’d he rope you into this then?”
Looking at the three imposing figures, I raise my eyebrow, letting a small smile creep onto my lips. “Has anyone ever managed to say no to you three?”
A smirk tugs at the corners of Connor’s mouth.
“Occasionally,” Killian says. “But JP’s a stubborn bastard, it’s easier to just give him what he wants.”
My eyes bulge. That’s what I’m afraid of.
After a few agonizing minutes of conversation, JP suggests we move on. I’ve never been so relieved. We stop by a few more groups of executives and investment bankers exchanging small talk.
By the time we break free, my feet are aching, my cheeks are sore from all the strained smiling, and my nipples have been rubbed raw from accidental silk friction. Sexy.
A slow, sultry jazz tune begins to waft from the speakers, luring couples onto the dance floor.
“Dance with me,” JP says in a low voice.
I vehemently shake my head. “God, no. I’ve got two left feet; remember how clumsy I was getting out of the car? Dancing is way worse.”
He steps closer, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Lucky for you, I’ll be taking the lead.”
He somehow manages to make that sound filthy.
A flurry of butterflies invades my stomach as he whispers into my ear, his warm breath fanning my skin.“Lucy, there’s nothing I want more tonight than to feel you in my arms.”
