I cry out, shuddering and quivering, a second orgasm dismantling me as he stiffens and spills deep into me.
His brothers lie back while caressing my body.
Their hands always moving. Fingers always touching.
“This was just a taste,” Cole reiterates.
“I want the whole deal,” I tell him.
He smiles. We kiss, softly, slowly, glowing, with our bodies glued to each other. The air grows hot and thick around us as I take deep breaths and settle into my new reality.
The Morgan brothers want me.
And I want all three of them.
1
WILLOW
“No fucking way.”
“Is that…” Jamie’s voice trails off as he stands beside me, two glasses of champagne in hand.
“That’s him alright,” I manage.
“I thought he said he wasn’t coming,” Jamie mutters.
“That is what he said.”
I leave Jamie behind and walk over to my fiancé, Terrence Madison. He’s wearing one of his best suits, a dark grey ensemble meant to bring out the rust in his hair and the blue in his eyes. His mother, Sheila, is beside him, talking and laughing with a vaporous blonde, both of them draped in an elegant emerald green, like they’re besties, in matching outfits.
My problem is that the blonde clings to my fiancé’s arm with too much ease.
And as soon as they see me coming, their humor fades.
They’re not surprised, though. Terrence knew I had an invite to this event. The Future Artists of America Foundation, chaired by William James Morgan, Terrence’s stepfather, sent me a personalized invitation after a team-building weekend I organized for one of Mr. Morgan’s finance firms. I’d invited Terrence to join me, and he’d turned me down.
“Hey, Terrence,” I say with as much calm as I can muster.
This place is packed with some of New York’s richest and most influential people. Potential clients not just for the wedding planning side of my business, but also for all the other corporate packages Jamie and I put together over the past year. I can’t afford to make a scene.
“Hey, Willow,” Terrence replies with a casual smile, but I still catch the strain in his voice. He knows what’s coming. “Glad to see you here.”
I gawk at him, my jaw almost dropping before my gaze shifts to Sheila, his gorgeous and equally redheaded mother. The blonde beside her raises an eyebrow at me, as if asking whose idea it was to let the cockroach into the room.
“Glad to see me here? Are you kidding me, Terrence? I asked you to come with me, and you said you were unavailable. Clearly, you’re very much available,” I hiss. “What the hell is this?”
“Willow, take the hint already,” Sheila cuts in.
I give her a hard look, the kind of look I never imagined I had in me. This woman usually intimidates me. She’s mean, intense, and judgmental. She’s been a nightmare since Terrence proposed.
“I’m not following,” I say, choosing to focus on Terrence. “You need to explain it to me like I’m five.”
“Willow, I said I was unavailable to join you at this charity event,” he says. “Not that I was unavailable tocometo this charity event.”
“Seriously?”
I should’ve broken it off weeks ago. I knew I’d made the wrong choice when I said yes. But my whole life, I’d been told I needed to settle for less because no high-value man would want a girl like me: a curvy, middle-class New Yorker without a family pedigree, and that I had to lower my standards.
