Page 35 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

He’s so put together, so mature. He gives me the energy of a man who already knows who he is and is so completely comfortable in his own skin, self-assured without being arrogant, kind without being a pushover. That gentle dominance he displayed when he told me to drink slowly after I tried to gulp the water down.

And whenever I make suggestions he doesn't like, instead of shooting it down, he merely gives alternatives and discusses why my way wouldn't work for their business model.

He's the last person I want to look like a fool in front of, but here I am anyway, halfway out a too-small window, feet dangling off the ground.

And now he probably thinks I’m an idiot, and he’s staring at me stuck in his bathroom window after I tried to crawl through.

“I’m stuck,” I say.

“I see that,” he said. “I’m just curious as to how, because last I checked, neither the toilet nor the sink is through that window.”

I sigh. “Would you believe me if I said there was a spider?”

“Was there?”

“No,” I admit. “But we can pretend there was, and that’s how I ended up here.”

He chuckles, and it’s warm running over my skin like sunshine. I want to bottle it up somewhere and listen to it when I get sad.I like his masculine, low-toned laugh, even though he’s laughing at my expense.

“Come on, let’s get you out of there,” he says. “Then we can talk about how you ended up there in the first place.”

“Please and thank you.” Hopefully, that second conversation never happens.

He comes and fits his hands on my waist, and even though the situation is as unsexy as it can possibly get, I still manage a shiver of pleasure.

He doesn’t mention it thankfully, as he says,

“Okay, now put your hands directly in front of you, straight out.”

"Okay." I obey.

"I’m going to tug in three–"

Before I can brace myself for it, he gives me a hard pull, and I squeak as I come free of my entrapment and fall into his arms.

“You said on three,” I claim breathlessly as I catch myself against his chest.

“I didn’t want you to tense up," he explains. "It would have made things harder.”

“Oh." That doesn't seem right, but then my brain can’t come up with an argument against it either. Mostly because it's preoccupied with the sensation of me being against his chest. His heart beats against mine, and sets off tingles all over my body.

His gaze scans my face.

The tingling intensifies, the scent of him, amber and wood surrounding me.

And my brain short-circuits.

Before I know it, I’m pushing forward, or maybe he’s leaning down. At the last minute, his hips hover over mine, and they pause as though asking permission or maybe fighting with himself about doing this. But I close the gap between us.

His taste explodes in my mouth as he groans on my tongue, tasting of masculine heat and black coffee. His tongue slides over mine, and I moan at the assault of him as he grips my hair, savoring the command of his touch.

His body presses against mine as he pushes me into a wall, kissing me with a hunger that belied his earlier disposition. He seemed so calm on the outside. If anything, he seemed more annoyed at the other two men for derailing the meeting with their flirting.

I thought he was even getting mad at me for giggling and entertaining it.

But his tongue in my mouth doesn't make me mad. Instead, it reminds me of that first kiss we shared, how random it was, yet consuming, hot, shutting down any rational thought and only allowing desire through. A desire that burns hotter the more we kiss, and I hook my leg over his hips again, and it drives up my skirt, and he groans into my mouth as he grinds his cock down on aching pussy.

God. I want him so bad.