PARKER

I swallow. "You remember a lot."

Jack's voice drops. "I remember everything." His hand is still on my elbow.

And then...

Then he kisses me.

No warning. No preamble. Just heat. Tongue. Memory. His hand sliding to my waist, then to the small of my back.

It hits like lightning. My body surges toward him without permission, but panic rises in my throat. "Wait-what are you doing?"

He smirks a little. "Distracting you. This time, I've got help."

Another set of hands touches my hips. Gavin. His breath is warm near my ear. "Tell us to stop."

I can't. This is reckless and stupid and possibly illegal, but I can't say the words.

I don't want to. But this is so foolish. I can't just... What even is this? An ambush? No. It's not like they planned to get stuck in the elevator with me.

Jack kisses my throat, and warmth floods me.

Harrison says nothing-just presses behind me, solid. One hand braces on the elevator rail. The other trails down my arm.

"I-this-" I try. I really try to say stop or something. Someone should.

But then Jack's mouth is back on mine again. Gavin's lips brush my neck. Harrison murmurs something low and obscene against my skin.

The elevator may be stuck. But me? I'm breaking loose. This isn't what I fantasized. All those years ago, when I stupidly fostered my crush on my brother's best friends, I pictured frolicking on a beach with them or sharing a great big bed where we could take our time and do it right.

Not in an elevator while I'm mid–panic attack.

Jack's hand slides up my inner thigh beneath my skirt. "We're going to distract you, Parker."

I should say no. This is inappropriate. It's wrong. It's⁠-

Oh, hell. His fingers. I forgot how good he was with them. They cup over my underwear, massaging. There's no stopping the whimper that shoots out of me. It's been too long since anyone touched me like this.

Seven years, to be exact.

Gavin leans close as Jack drops to his knees. His cold brown eyes flicker all over my face, settling on my lips. "If you don't tell us to stop, we're not stopping."

I know what I should say. But I can't think straight with Jack's fingers working me over.

"Don't stop."

His dimple flashes when he smirks right before he kisses me. It's different from Jack, lighter, tentative. At first. But then Jack pulls my underwear off and ducks his head under my skirt, making me moan on Gavin's lips, and that's all he needs to hear. His tongue slips past the seam of my lips as he deepens the kiss.

I feel like I'm falling, and I'm not sure if I care.

Harrison, still lined up behind me, grabs my hips and presses against my backside. He's hard. For me.

The shock of that knowledge does something to me. I got Harrison Gunn hard. Jack remembers a lot, specifically where his tongue should go. My knees are loose, and I'd wobble onto the floor, but Harrison's grip holds me in place. He growls in my ear, "I've always wanted to see you come undone, Parker. Will you let me see that?"

Not sure I have a choice. Jack's mouth is too talented. "Yes."

"I feel you trying to ride his face. Let me give you a hand." He hoists me up until my ass and thighs are held up by his forearms, like my own personal throne. He's so strong to hold me up like this. Jack readjusts, never missing a beat and following us into the position, hiking my skirt up around my waist. Harrison's hard cock rubs up against me from behind, teasing my ass. I lace my fingers into Jack's hair. I need something to hold on to.

Gavin feasts his eyes on the new position, on me. "Always knew you were a hot little thing. Let's see what happens when we set you on fire." He pushes Jack's head from behind, forcing his face harder against me.

I lose it. Too much pressure from Jack's tongue, and I'm too on display. There's no holding back. My moans fill the space, echoing off the dark wood walls as I come on Jack's face.

Gavin releases him, and Jack stands up, face glossy as he comes in for a kiss. I taste myself on his lips, his tongue. He presses his forehead to mine. "You taste so sweet."

"Yeah, but how does she feel?" Gavin murmurs.

"Slick. Tight," Jack says, with firsthand knowledge. But that wasn't an admission about what happened seven years ago. He could just as easily be talking about tonight.

Gavin and Harrison don't know anything damning yet.

Harrison's forearms spread me open wider. "You should find out for yourself, Thatcher." Jack moves out of the way, letting Gavin crowd between my thighs.

Gavin cocks his head like a predatory bird. "You remember the rule, right?"

My head is fogged from orgasm. "Rule?"

"If you want us to stop, tell us to stop."

"Right, I⁠-"

His hand is fast on me, palm gliding over the wetness Jack left behind. Gavin hisses through his teeth. "Fuck." His fingertips curl as he passes back and forth, adding more friction without entering me. Back and forth, back and forth.

I'm shaking again already and trying to ride his hand, but I can't. Not with Harrison keeping my legs spread. I don't mean to say it. "I need more."

"Yes, you do," Gavin says, his other hand reaching for his pants. "So do I." He's unbuckled and unzipped in a flash, and his cock is out. Something shiny catches my eye. Precum? No, is that-he's pierced there, right at the head.

I'm hit with the same thought I had that fateful night with Jack. How is that going to fit?

Gavin lines himself up with me, rubbing the piercing up and down my slit. He's teasing me with it. There's that dimple-smirk again. "Say it."

"I need more," I hiss out again.

He drives forward, sinking to the hilt. The stretch from his girth is almost too much, and I cry out. Gavin slows, but doesn't exit as the piercing hits my G-spot, checking in with intense eye contact. But I can't speak-I'm already too close to the edge.

Jack says, "Don't stop. She can take it."

I nod slightly, and that's all Gavin needs. He pumps into me, harder on every stroke, groaning my name. This is stupid and glorious and I never want it to end. I'm right there when Jack reaches between our bodies for my clit, letting Gavin smash his fingers against me with each thrust. Heat doesn't pool in my core-it ignites. My head knocks back against Harrison's shoulder when I gasp. The climax steals my breath, wrecks my throat as I scream.

"Fuck yes, that's it, pet, come on my cock," Gavin demands, voice low.

I can't breathe again, this time for a much better reason than claustrophobia. But just as I start to fill my lungs, Gavin presses against me with his body. It forces me harder against Harrison, his back to the wall. I'm sandwiched in the best way possible. Gavin kisses me, his hips making tiny thrusts now, like he doesn't want to retract fully anymore. I can feel the piercing better now, feel his pulse in his cock, the swelling of him inside me.

Jack murmurs in my ear, "Come again for us, sweetheart. Do it soon, or Harrison's going to have to fuck your ass."

For emphasis, Harrison thrusts against me there, and that extra stimulation sends me into the stratosphere, coming yet again. Gavin pumps into me like a wild man until he pulls out and comes into his hand, cursing the whole time. He steps back, cleaning his hand with a handkerchief as he tries to catch his breath.

"My turn," Harrison mutters. He sets me down, and before my legs can adjust to standing, he spins me around.

The back wall of the elevator is a mirror.

I look disheveled in every possible way. Curly brown hair mussed, skirt for a belt, nothing below the waist but my sensible pumps. And Harrison, meeting my eyes in the mirror, every bit the beast he's built like.

He takes my hands and places them on the mirror before pulling my hips back. "Look at your eyes, pretty girl. Watch what happens." His cock is right at my pussy from behind. "See the faces you make when you get fucked properly." He dives in deep, stuffing himself into me with a hard shove.

My eyes flutter back, but Jack fists my hair to focus me. "He said to watch."

And I do. I watch Harrison fuck me, watch the way Jack's hunger lights him from the inside, and I watch Gavin stroke himself over his pants as he watches us too.

Jack, never one to lose focus, gropes my breasts under my blazer, fingers tweaking my hard nipples. More heat shudders through me. He whispers in my ear, "I remember everything, sweetheart. Including this." He roughly pinches my nipples.

My mouth falls slack as another orgasm takes hold. The pain of his grip on my nipples... I love that pain. It makes me come so fucking hard that I see stars.

Harrison slams into me and pulls out to come on my ass. He's still gasping when he wipes me down with his tie.

I turn to Jack, dying for him to complete the night. Just as I reach for him, the elevator jolts.

Oh, shit.

Security says, "Looks like we got you rolling again. Sorry for the inconvenience."

I'm shoving my clothes back into place, and the guys barely look like anything happened. When the doors open, the four of us are as put together as we can be. A man in a security uniform stands there, apologetic as all hell. "Mr. Thatcher, I am⁠-"

"No worries, Jerry," Gavin says, patting his shoulder. "All's well that ends well." He strolls toward executive parking like nothing happened, Harrison hot on his heels.

Only Jack glances back at me. He mouths, "Next time," before exiting through the same door.

Next time? There'll be a next time? After what just happened in the elevator, how do I explain that's a bad idea?

How do I tell him that I probably shouldn't be having foursomes that include the father of my children when he doesn't know he's the father of my children? Help Center FeedbackCopyRight © 2022 novelmanga.com All Rights Reserved. Privacy Policy

?

JACK

Parker Simon is prettier than I remembered. And that's a fucking problem.

Not that I ever forgot her. I've spent the last seven years pretending she was just a blip, just one night of bad judgment. But the moment she stepped back into VT Global wearing that soft pink blouse and carrying a tote bag big enough to hold the secrets to my happiness, every lie I've told myself cracked down the middle.

She's still got those soft eyes, though her face has matured into something sharper, cleverer. Her brown curly hair is longer now. She had it twisted up on Friday, but it had fallen around her face and shoulders by the time we left the elevator. I remember exactly how those curls felt between my fingers.

I also remember how she looked at me that night seven years ago. Eyes wide. Lush lips parted. Her voice shaking after we finished when she said, "I can't believe we did that. Phil is going to kill us."

And I believed her. That she meant it. That it was a mistake.

Even though I hadn't been drunk. Even though I'd waited all damn night hoping for a sign she might want me too. Even though I still remember how she kissed like she meant it and clung to me like I was the only thing anchoring her.

She walked out before sunrise, whispering that we had to pretend it never happened. And I let her go.

I spent the rest of that day looking at the logistics. I'm ten years older than her. I had no business having a crush on her. Still don't.

Do I?

She's twenty-five now. Has twins. She's building a career⁠-

One that I might derail if I don't keep it in my pants.

But is that true, or is that conventional wisdom that sounds like common sense? We're both adults. We made an adult choice that night at the bar, and in the elevator Friday. It's no one else's business but our own.

Phil's goofy-ass face pops into my head, stealing the oxygen from that argument. He's been one of my best friends since prep school. He's why she left my bed so early the morning after. Ironically, he's the reason I've avoided him since I slept with his sister.

Avoided every family gathering Phil invited me to after that. Claimed scheduling conflicts. Blamed busy seasons. I even skipped a holiday ski trip to Aspen when I found out Parker was going. I'd be lying if I said I didn't worry about him finding out. He'd hate me for it. That'd be the end of our friendship.

Apparently, it's all well and good to be friends with a known womanizer as long as he doesn't fuck your sister.

I thought dodging invites would be enough distance between me and Parker. But then Phil mentioned she was looking for work, and somehow Gavin suggested we interview her. Said her résumé was solid. That she was smart, organized, good with people. I didn't disagree. I just kept my mouth shut, hoping for the best outcome for her. She deserves a good job.

And I deserve to have my ass kicked.

Now she's here. And she's not a kid anymore. None of us are. We have to start making better choices. We're professionals. We can do this. We'll just have to avoid being in an elevator together.

Which, of course, is exactly where we ended up. All four of us.

That elevator was never meant to get stuck. Never supposed to feel like a pressure cooker filled with hormones and heat and memories. But it did. And I kissed her. And she let me. No-she kissed me back. And then everything went sideways.

When I saw her panic, I didn't think about what I was doing. I just knew in my gut how to help her calm down. No thought went into it whatsoever, and I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

Now it's Monday morning, and I'm pacing in my office like a goddamn intern because a gossip blog has posted the audio of our encounter.

Not video. Thank God. Just sound. But that's damning enough.

Heavy breathing. Soft moans. A whispered "Jack, please." Some noise that could have been the elevator or could have been⁠-

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck.

JACK

Gavin's voice breaks through the speaker on my desk. "Conference room in five. Heather wants to go over damage control."

"I'm handling it."

"You sure? Because my mother already texted me three times and it's not even nine."

Of course she did.

Vivian Thatcher might not technically run VT Global anymore, but she's got her fingers in every polished glass surface we own. And her best friend Heather-the CHRO-is her eyes and ears. Always watching. Always judging. Always waiting to yank the reins if things get too messy.

I press the intercom. "Tell Heather I'll be there."

Then I press another button. "Call Danny Nguyen to my office."

Danny's the head of security. Ex-military. Sharp. Loyal. But if someone on his team leaked that audio, it means our house isn't in order.

A few minutes later, he walks in. "Morning, sir."

"Don't 'sir' me. Shut the door."

He does.

I turn my monitor so he can see the blog post. "How the fuck did they get this?"

Danny sighs. "I'm not sure. I'll pull badge logs and camera access. But we had issues that night with the rolling grid outages. Could've been stored locally and off-loaded by someone working late."

"Then you fire everyone who had access that night."

Danny raises a brow. "You want me to clean house?"

"I want you to clean house," I say, my voice flat. "If one of your team sold us out, they're all suspect."

He doesn't argue. Not at first. But then he crosses his arms. "Wasn't my guys having sex with an employee in a glass building."

My eyes cut to his. "What did you say?"

His jaw works. "Just saying what everyone's already thinking."

"If you want to keep your job, I suggest you stop thinking out loud. Fire them. Now."

He nods, jaw tight. "On it."

When he leaves, I press my fingers to my temples. It's not like I didn't know this would blow up. The second I touched her in that elevator, I knew.

And I did it anyway.

I've never been able to forget how she sounded in my arms the first time. And I never imagined she would look at me the way she did in that moment-like maybe she wanted me back.

Now it's a PR nightmare. Not the worst we've dealt with, but bad enough. Especially when it involves Phil's sister. Especially when it involves me.

Gavin's probably already spinning it as a consensual after-hours "intimate moment" between high-level staff. Harrison's likely brooding in the gym, pounding a heavy bag and blaming himself for not yanking the emergency override.

Me? I'm trying not to destroy everything that matters. My phone buzzes. It's a calendar update. Sent by Parker.

Project Kickoff: Spring Gala Proposal – 2 PM Today (conf room B)

I click it open. She's already outlined logistics, guest list targets, potential venue options, and a proposal doc titled "VT Looks Good Doing Good."

Smart. Polished. Already leaning into the kind of spin we need. It gives me an idea. I buzz Gavin. "Loop Heather in. I'm naming Parker Simon project lead for the spring gala."

There's a pause. "Isn't that a little..."

"Optical? Risky? Yeah. It's also smart. She's organized. She already started the damn doc. And if Heather wants proof we're taking advantage of our position, this is it. Parker just started here as your executive assistant, but if we're already grooming her for a higher position, Heather can't say too much about a role differential."

Another pause. "Right, so today is the day we're redefining the term 'thin excuse'?"

"Does it matter?"

He huffs. "I'll let her know."

A few minutes later, Heather calls.

"Jack."

"Heather."

"I was just about to request time on your calendar."

"Don't bother. I'm ahead of you."

"Really? Because the elevator footage⁠-"

"Doesn't exist," I cut in. "And if it does, it won't be leaving this building."

She hums. "Still, we need to follow protocol. I'm scheduling conduct reviews with everyone who was in that elevator. You understand."

"I do."

"And Parker?"

"Project lead for the gala. Smart, visible, controlled. Let the story become about charity, not scandal."

There's a beat of silence.

"Vivian would be proud."

"I'm not doing this for Vivian."

"No. But you're playing it her way."

The call ends, and I don't move for a minute.

Parker is going to hate this. She's the type who wants to blend in, not stand out. But there's no hiding now. She's the most visible employee in the company.

And somehow still the one thing I want most.

Which means I need to keep my hands to myself. Again. But God help me, I don't think I can. Not this time. Not now that I know how she tastes when she moans my name. Not now that I've felt her again.

And not when I'm pretty fucking sure I never stopped wanting her. I don't know how.