Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Instantly, my cheeks flame and my eyes drop to the rippling surface of the cocoa. Oh, God. Why was I born without a filter?
Boone’s thumbs start up again as if I haven’t just put my foot in my mouth. He sweeps another firm stroke across my neck, finding a spot that makes every muscle go liquid. I’m pretty sure I groan under my breath.
When I hear a chuckle, I glance up and realize Chance heard me. Either that, or he’s just laughing at my social ineptitude. “Relax, it’s fine. It’s a compliment.”
His gaze flicks to Boone’s hands, then back to my eyes. Without another word, he drops into an effortless crouch in front of me, his movements calm and deliberate.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my breath hitching a little at the sight of him at my feet.
“Helping,” he says simply.
Before I can protest, he tugs lightly at the heel of one shoe, then the other. My toes flex in relief when they hit the soft rug, but the next thing I know, his hands are circling my arches, slow and sure, his thumbs pressing into places I didn’t even know I had.
“Oh, my God,” I say, my head tipping back. “You guys are going to ruin me for actual spas.”
Boone laughs behind me. “That’s the goal.”
The air in the room changes as they keep working on me, becoming heavier somehow. Not threatening, not even overtly suggestive. Just charged.
For a girl who’s spent the last few days running for her life, this feels incredible. Sitting here with two dangerously attractive men trying to fix my knots and stroke away my stress sure as hell beats slinging drinks for mobsters.
The only drawback is that having both of their hands on me stirs memories of those idle fantasies I’ve had of being sandwiched between them. I can feel my panties getting damp and my nipples tightening.
The sound of heavy boots on hardwood makes me open my eyes. Dillon strolls into the office, and for a second, I am mortified, afraid of how he might react to what he’s just walked in on. These are my new bosses, and here I am, sitting like a queen being tended to by her harem. All that’s missing is someone feeding me grapes and waving a palm leaf.
My gaze locks on his as he pauses in the doorway, a plate of cookies in his hand. To my utter surprise, he doesn’t even skip a beat. He takes it all completely in stride, like this is something he walks in on every day.
“I brought a snack,” he announces, devastating blue eyes alive with humor and something vaguely wicked as they hold mine. “Doctor’s orders. You need to take regular breaks to eat during the day.”
“That rule doesn’t apply to cookies,” Boone mutters, his voice a little more gravelly than usual, thicker somehow. “I’m pretty sure what the doctors are referring to are healthy snacks. Not sugar-loaded carbs.”
“Nah, that can’t be right. Chocolate is a primary food group,” Dillon says, setting the plate down on my desk and flashing me a grin that can only spell trouble.
The man is chaos in the best possible way, mayhem dressed in ink with a permanent smirk etched on his lips. “Besides, it seems to me that chocolate is all that’s necessary to round out the treatment plan you guys have got going on here.”
Before I can even begin to comprehend what is about to happen, he braces his hands on either side of me, fingers wrapping around the armrests of my chair, then leans over, his head descending to mine.
Without hesitation I just sit there as he kisses me again, quick and confident. He is way too sure of himself, but that’s one of the things I find most attractive about him. Dillon is completely, utterly, entirely himself every moment of every day.
The genius hacker with the body of an Olympic swimmer, the ink of a biker, and the hair of a preppy frat boy. It’s impossible to put him in any kind of box, and I love it.
For half a second as his soft lips brush against mine, the world goes very still. My heart races, my pulse thundering in my ears. My hands want to lift, to wrap around his neck and pull him closer, but then I remember the other two are watching.
So instead, I pull back, my cheeks once again on fire. At this rate, I might as well just paint them red and accept that I am going to spend all my time here as a tomato.
Dillon’s grin widens as he lifts his head a fraction away from mine. His gaze lifts, I assume he’s looking at Boone, then he gives a casual, one-shouldered shrug. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I was just curious to find out if she tastes like chocolate. That cocoa smells awesome.”