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Just as I’m about to sprint toward the apartment door to find out who the hell she is, another voice fills the air.
This voice is deep and sparks something within me. “That’s where I need you. Lose the shirt first.”
It’s Rook. Rook is here with a woman, and he’s telling her to undress?
My heart thunders in my chest. I’m frozen in place. As much as I want to sprint to the guestroom to lock the door and hide in there until Rook is done doing whatever he came here to do with that woman, my feet won’t move.
The woman responds to his suggestion with a laugh. “Good idea. What about you? Don’t tell me you’re keeping that suit on.”
Plugging my ears with my fingers is an option, but I’m pretty sure the two of them will notice me when they skip down the hall on their way to their rendezvous spot.
Does Declan even know that his best friend is coming here to… have sex? Screw? No… fuck. Rook seems like the kind of man that fucks, and fucks hard.
I shake my head to try to chase away the image of that.
“He has his own apartment,” I whisper. “Why can’t he do it there?”
My feet suddenly are cooperative, so I sprint to the guestroom, but I’m not fast enough.
“Carrie?” Rook’s voice sends goosebumps over my skin. “What are you doing here?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rook
When I planned this night I never thought it would include an eyeful of Carrie Gilbert’s perfectly round ass contained in a pair of shorts.
Let the record reflect that it’s barely contained.
I glance away because the image of that has brought my cock to life, and that’s the last thing I need right now.
The petite blonde standing next to me jabs an elbow into my side. “You said no one would be here.”
“I’m here,” Carrie says, her voice wavering. “I’m Carrie. I’m Abby’s sister.”
I step in to finish the introductions. “Carrie, this is Posey.”
Carrie turns to the side, which only revs my desire up another notch. I’m seriously uncomfortable at the moment. The pants I’m wearing are tailored to fit, but they don’t have a lot of give for when I’m battling a hard-on, and I’m doing that now.
Her tits are moving under the pajama top she’s wearing since she’s bouncing in place. I’ve seen that type of nervous energy from people before, but it’s typically related to my work. A law degree tends to garner that reaction.
“It’s good to meet you, Carrie.” Posey takes off toward Carrie. “I’m sorry. I was under the impression no one would be here.”
Carrie briefly glances past Posey to focus on my face before she levels her gaze on the floor. “I didn’t know you’d be here either.”
Posey makes it within a foot of where Carrie is before she spins to face me. Her hands drop to her hips. “I think we need to go, Rook. Maybe you should talk to Declan about a schedule for us to work on the mural.”
“What mural?” Carrie asks, her voice barely more than a whisper.
A slight turn of her body accompanies the question. She’s facing me now, and Jesus, she’s even more stunning tonight than she was in that green dress at the wedding.
Her nipples have furled into tight points under the fabric of the shirt. The bottom button is undone, so when she moves, a sliver of the skin of her stomach is visible.
I have to tear my gaze away from her because I swear to fuck, the zipper on these pants is about to burst from the pressure of my erection.
“Declan asked Rook to arrange for someone to paint a mural for the nursery,” Posey explains because I’ve yet to offer any reason for why I’m here. “He hired me. I’m a paralegal by day and an artist by night.”
“Oh.” Carrie’s eyes widen behind her glasses. “That’s really sweet.”
