No, she leaves a lasting impression. An imprint. She doesn’t fade away.

I find myself checking the clock, seeing what time it is, counting down the goddamn minutes until she texts me a question, waiting desperately to see her today for the meeting with her sister.

And all it took was one goddamn taste. Now I’m a fucking mess.

I want her.

I didn’t see her this morning. I snuck out early with my gym bag, came to the office, got a workout in, and showered here, too worried that if I did see her, I’d bury myself between her legs again, searching out her sweet taste, wanting to hear her cry out my name again.

Fuck.

What is wrong with me?

I never should have crossed that line. I never should have even considered her an option, and the big reason why is because I think I’m developing feelings for the girl, and I know those feelings most likely are not returned.

Yeah, she’s getting to know me, though not because she likes me—fuck, I sound like a teenager—but she’s getting to know me so she’s not doing business with some jerk-off who doesn’t know how to act around women.

And if she was really into me, she’d have followed me upstairs last night. I didn’t expect her to and I’d never expect a woman to return the favor, but if she had any draw toward me, she’d have been at my bedroom door, at least listening as I came all over my stomach, my hand pumping like a goddamn workhorse while my mind focused on the sounds and taste of her orgasm.

But she didn’t, and I need to be conscious of that. I need to remember exactly what I’m doing. Trying to secure a deal.

I turn my attention to my computer just as my phone beeps with a text message. I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to have some self-control, but I fail miserably as I reach for my phone and open up the text from Lottie.

Lottie: What’s for lunch today?

I lean back in my office chair and text her back.

Huxley: Is that one of your questions?

Lottie: Consider it a freebie. Inquiring minds are curious.

Huxley: Not sure. Probably nothing. Getting a lot of work done.

She doesn’t need to know that what I really want for lunch is her goddamn pussy, and if she were here right now, I’d be feasting on her before she could even take her next breath.

Lottie: How can you not eat lunch? I had a donut an hour ago, a huge breakfast burrito for breakfast, and I’m starving, ready to gnaw my arm off. And you skipped out on dinner.

Huxley: I recall it differently. I had my fill of dinner.

Fuck, I can’t help myself. I can’t stop myself from reminding her of how I make her feel, hell, how she makes me feel.

Satisfied.

Lottie: Question—have you always been this dirty?

Huxley: When you know what you want, you go after it. There’s nothing dirty involved, just the truth.

Lottie: Well, that was a scapegoat answer that worked really well for you. Now ask me a question. Distract me while Kelsey fetches us lunch.

Huxley: Do you feel as though you know me a little better?

Lottie: I do, but I’m not sure I would’ve without these questions. I’m glad you’ve been open to them.

Huxley: Your turn.

Lottie: That’s all you’re going to say on the matter?

Huxley: Yes.

Lottie: Okay, I see that I’m getting the closed-off Huxley today, that’s fine. Hmm, question—when was the last time you had sex, and with who?

Huxley: That’s two questions.

Lottie: It’s a two-parter, linked together. It passes.

Huxley: Why do you want to know?

Lottie: Is that your question?

Huxley: Consider it linked as well.

Lottie: Just interested in what your life was like before I rolled in.

Huxley: Last time I had sex, probably three months ago, with a girl I’ve known for a few years. Occasionally we get together just for the hell of it, no strings attached. Don’t have time for anything else.

Lottie: A booty call. I wouldn’t have expected anything less. But three months seems like a long time. I would’ve thought once a week for you.

Huxley: No time. Plus, I told you, when we’re in contract, I don’t seek out anyone else but you.

Lottie: I don’t know how to respond to that.

Huxley: No need. My last question before I go—are you nervous about the pitch today?

Lottie: Honestly?

Huxley: Always.

Lottie: I am. I’m nervous because we’ve been working hard on this. I know we offer a great service, I know a lot is riding on this, and I know you’re not going to just give us something for the hell of it, you’re going to make us earn it.

Huxley: That’s correct.

Lottie: This means a lot to us. Even the opportunity to pitch means a lot. We’ve been practicing, making sure everything is perfect, and when the time comes, I really hope we can show you how beneficial we’d be for Cane Enterprises.

I already know they’re perfect for the job. I’ve done my research on Kelsey, but I’m going to make them pitch anyway, because I’m not the only one who makes the decisions. Breaker and JP have to be a yes as well. More so, this is good practice for Kelsey and an excellent boost in confidence for Lottie. She needs to find her niche in business, given it’s what she’s studied. I see the potential in her. She needs to prove it to herself more than to me.

Huxley: We look forward to your presentation. We’ll see you then.

I set down my phone and turn back to my computer. I look through my emails, but the letters become all jumbled and mashed together. Nothing makes sense.

My mind is unfocused.

Because even though I don’t want to admit it, the only thing I can think about is this: will I be able to go down on Lottie again and . . . when?

“They should be here any minute, right?” JP asks, adjusting his suit.

“Yes,” I say. I can see one of the elevators climbing toward our floor. That has to be them.

“Do we know if the sister is single?” JP asks. “She’s really hot.”

“No idea, but if we sign a contract with her, it wouldn’t be a good idea to pursue her,” I say.

“Uh, says the guy who ate out Lottie on the dining room table last night.”

“What?” Breaker leans in. “Why the hell did I not know about that?”

“I conned him into telling me,” JP says. “I could tell he was in a good mood when he came in this morning, so I needled him until he told me.”

“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Breaker asks.

“Not the place or time,” I say to Breaker as the elevator dings with their arrival. I set my shoulders back and prepare to lay my eyes on Lottie and whatever dress she chose to wear today.

But when the elevator doors open, it isn’t Lottie and Kelsey I see, but rather Dave.

“Wow, what a greeting,” Dave says as he steps off the elevator, taking us all in. “I wasn’t expecting to see all three of the Cane brothers waiting on the other side of the elevator.”

What’s he doing here?

Better yet, where are Lottie and Kelsey—

The elevator on the far left dings and the doors slide open, revealing Kelsey and Lottie, both with feminine briefcases in hand. Kelsey is wearing a deep purple dress that shapes to her torso and flares ever so slightly at the hips, while Lottie—hell, is she trying to distract me? She’s wearing a navy-blue dress that hits her midthigh, fits like a glove, and cuts just low enough on her chest to make me want to rip the dress right off her with my bare hands. And then those heels.