Page 2 of Last Resort

My feet falter.

My heart stops.

My jaw falls lax.

Oh. Shit.

Sitting on the opposite side of the conference table from where we stand is the man who was wrapped around me—was in me, was on me—last night. I then glance to the second man and oh shit. There’s two of them. Twins. Is this for real? You’re just stressed. Just exhausted. I draw in a shaky breath as I glance at the third man, returning with his coffee to the table.

Oh. Fuck.

This can’t be happening.

There are three of them. Identical triplets. All three stunningly handsome. All three staring directly at me.

And I swear to God, I have no idea whose scent is still in my nose and whose taste is still on my tongue.

“Hello there,” the middle one with the crisp white shirt and bold red tie says. His smile is crooked but given with a mixture of warmth and amusement. “Sorry. Did Roz not warn you? We know it can be a little jarring walking in and seeing the three of us.”

“I’m sorry. Yes.” Get your wits about you. I give a small shake of my head. “Hello.” I work a swallow down my throat as I fight the heat creeping into my cheeks. “I’m Sutton Pierce.” I meet each one of their eyes, my tongue thick in my mouth. I’m not sure if I want or don’t want to see a flicker of recognition in one of them. “Nice to meet you.”

The one on the right draws my eyes as he chuckles. He has a dark gray dress shirt on. It’s open at the collar, his shirtsleeves rolled up showcasing firm forearms and strong hands. His hair is a little longer than his brothers’. I stare at his hands, my mind wondering if they were the ones that rendered me breathless one moment and crying out the next.

“It’s our pleasure.” His eyes meet mine when I look up. Hold them.

Was it him?

Images from last night flash through my head. Paralyze me. Me on my knees looking up at his amber-colored eyes with his cock thick and hard on my lips. The way his teeth dug into his bottom lip as he pushed his way into me. The curl to his hair as he licked me between my thighs. The way he . . . made me feel when I never knew I could feel like that.

The snapshots are like a reel in my head.

A reel I can’t stop.

I’m aroused. Confused. Dumbfounded.

So fucking screwed.

And all these things are happening as I’m standing and being judged by the men before me.

“Please, take a seat,” the brother on the left says. I take in his white dress shirt, dark gray vest, and yellow tie. But he has the same eyes. The same smile. The same hair.

And he has a Starbucks to-go cup sitting in front of him.

It had to be him. Right?

Snap out of it. Act normal. Act like one of these men didn’t ruin you for other men.

“Thank you,” I murmur and take a seat next to Roz, blaringly aware that one of these men is currently undressing me with his eyes. It takes everything I have not to stare at each one, to try and remember his nuances so I can figure out which one I was with. Either that or crawl under the table and die from absolute mortification.

Instead, I focus more intently than any human should on getting my pad of paper and pen out of my bag so I can take notes.

“I’m Fordham Sharpe,” yellow tie and vest says. “Please, call me Ford. This is Ledger.” He points to the brother in the middle with the red tie. “And that’s Callahan.” Dark gray shirt, no tie, lifts his hand and nods.

“There will be a test later,” Callahan says, drawing my eyes back to him. Our gazes hold for a beat. Are you Johnnie Walker?

“Don’t worry,” Ledger says, pulling me from my dizzying thoughts. “The longer you work with us, the more you’ll be able to tell us apart. We really are quite different.”

Callahan snorts.