Briggs (Carolina Reapers 7)

“Go ahead and get started,” Bristol said as she reached for a bracelet with a pincushion on the top. “Unless you’re hungry now?” She paused, looking my way.

“I’m fine. I’d rather get this over with. I have dinner plans in an hour.” The less time I spent with Bristol, the better.

“Right.” She stepped up onto the pedestal, putting only inches between us, and I sucked in a breath of Chanel No. 5. Fuck, did she smell incredible. “We’ll just take it up here,” she said softly, pinching the seams above my shoulders. “Hold still.”

“Or what? You’ll stab me with your pins?” I teased, a corner of my mouth lifting.

She scoffed, leaning in to tuck and pin the fabric.

Her breasts brushed against my chest, and if she turned her face even slightly, her lips would be at my neck. God, what the fuck did she put in her hair? An aphrodisiac? The citrusy scent mixed with her perfume and went straight to my head…and my dick.

Not now.

The last thing I needed was Bristol to feel exactly what her being this close did to me. My body didn’t care that she’d hidden her age four years ago. It didn’t care that the fallout had been disastrous. It sure as hell remembered exactly how she’d tasted, how she’d melted into me and surrendered with a whimper when I’d lifted her to the edge of the pool table.

I had to think about anything else. Fast.

“Thanks for bringing your team down.” Damn it, my voice sounded all rough.

“It’s not my entire team,” she answered, sliding another pin home and switching to the other side. “But you’re welcome. I knew what I was getting into when I signed you. Our deadlines are tight, especially if we’re going to hit the dates for retail.”

She shocked the hell out of me by dropping to her knees, adjusting the pins at my waist.

Holy fucking shit, the view was incredible. I could just imagine those plump red lips wrapping around my cock—

Get a grip.

What was the unsexiest thing I could possibly think of? I needed it. Now. Her brother’s face when he walked into the pool room.

That did it.

I let the anger overwhelm the lust. At any point that night, she could have told me she was seventeen, but she hadn’t. Nope. She’d just sipped that strawberry margarita and proceeded to kick my ass at pool while flirting with me like a pro. Who the fuck had been serving her alcohol, anyway?

She finished the pins, then looked up at me, color rising in her cheeks. Had she noticed just how…compromising this position was?

“Don’t get any ideas.” She arched her brow.

Yep, she’d noticed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, I’m pretty sure my cock would shrivel in self-preservation.” I stepped back, careful not to trip off the platform.

Her mouth dropped open for all of a millisecond before she pushed back off the platform to stand, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin a good two inches. “Just because I came down—” She cringed. “To South Carolina—this week doesn’t mean you should get used to it. I’ll see you in New York in two weeks, Cormac.”

“See you then, Duchess.”

She strode off without another word, turning the corner out of the room to join her team.

I shook my head as I changed back into my clothes and left the penthouse. The fucking penthouse, of course. Only the finest for Bristol McClaren. The spoiled little rich girl might have grown up to be an exquisite, business-savvy woman, but she hadn’t changed in the ways that mattered. She still expected to get exactly what she wanted.

And as for what I wanted? As usual, it didn’t matter. Just because she was old enough for me to legally touch her didn’t mean I was going to. This was a business arrangement, pure and simple. In six months, she’d be out of my life—hopefully for good this time.

4

Bristol

The energy in the arena was as addictive as that first sip of champagne after a hard-earned and well-achieved goal. And the view from the VIP box? Certainly didn’t hurt.

“Remind me to thank Asher Silas,” I said, leaning closer to Grace without ever actually taking my eyes off this ice. How could I when Cormac was playing?

He dominated the ice like a shark—fast, predatory, and with no mercy. The man was so tuned in it was like he anticipated moves before they happened and corrected for them in a blink. It was exhilarating to watch, even if I hated to admit that.

“Remember to thank Asher Silas,” Grace mimicked me, laughing as she shook her head.

I glanced at her. “What?”

She raised her arms horizontally to encompass the VIP box—the leather chairs we sat in, the private bar a few feet away, a waiter standing stoically in the corner in case we needed him. “How are we friends again?”