Hendrix pinches my nipple through the thin, stretchy material of my sports bra, and a jolt of hedonistic electricity crackles from my breast to my clit, coiling into a hot ball of desire in my core. Reaching an arm back, I guide his mouth to mine. Our tongues dance, our kiss as pornographic as the way he’s touching me while Aleksander silently looks on.
It’s debauched and inappropriate, but it feelsso fucking good.
“He can’t take his eyes off you. He wants you so fucking badly. Show him how beautiful you are when you come.”
It takes mere seconds before my orgasm hits like a comet striking the ground, obliterating everything in its path, its power a violent, unrelenting force that sends me soaring.
But along with euphoria is guilt when reality comes crashing back.
“You don’t have to be afraid anymore, sweet girl.” Hendrix presses a soft kiss to the curve of my neck, his fingers still deep inside me.
The office door cracks open. “Hey, country girl. Keith needs…” Shelby freezes like a deer caught in high beams. “Never mind,” she squeaks and quickly slams the door closed.
Her interruption is a metaphorical bucket of ice water being dumped over my head. Rushing to put my clothes to right, I fumble with the buttons as I push them through the small buttonholes. “I, uh…I…I need to…” Securing the last button at the neck, I tie the shirt ends in a knot at my waist. “I need to get back to work.”
I can’t look at either one of them as I clumsily head for the door, my feet tripping over themselves because my legs are useless noodles.
“Want a beer?” I hear Hendrix ask Aleksander as I literally run out of the office.
Shelby is all giddy smirks when I get to the bar. “Soooo,” she says, drawing out the long ‘o.’
Hendrix and Aleksander stroll past us without a word and head to the back table.
I know my face is as red as a ripe tomato. “We arenever,not ever, going to talk about it.”
“But—”
“No.”
“I have so many questions.”
I fan my face with a bar menu. “Not one word.”
“But—”
“No.”
Keith grabs a bottle of tequila from under the bar and lines up shot glasses for a giggling group of sorority girls wearing matching sweaters with their Greek colors and insignia. He does a double-take when he glances our way. “Is that my shirt?”
Thirty-Nine
Sitting down,I lean elbows on the table and bury my head in my hands, needing a minute to comprehend what just happened because…holy shit. That really happened.
Hendrix doesn’t seem to have that problem. Resting back in the chair, he steals the untouched beer I left on the table and takes a swig. “For domestic, this is pretty good.”
Placing my hands in my lap under the table to stop myself from punching him, I ask the obvious question. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“According to most people, a hell of a lot.”
His cavalier attitude only pisses me off more. Does he not understand the ramifications of what just transpired? Tristan and I are finally in a good place. I have a nephew I would lay down my life for. I found a family. And even though I know I can never have Syn in the way I desperately want, at least I have her in my life as my friend. And now I’m going to lose everything because of his little stunt.
“This isn’t a joke.”
His aqua eyes turn arctic. “I’m not joking. Syn is nothing if not stubborn. She needed a push.”
“Not off a fucking cliff with me chained to her ankle!”
He has the audacity to laugh. “And Tristan says I’m the drama queen.”
