Page 63 of Shark’s Rise

My eyes looked like four-alarm blazes. Yeah, I knew that for a fact. She had me so aroused, the gleam in my own gaze reflected back at me from Abbi’s brilliant greens. “Trying to decide if I like hearing you call me that because it’s fucking hot or because we’re having a baby. But I think it’s the first one when you say it in that raspy, sexy voice and with that goddamn needy look all over your entire body.” I felt a tremble pass over my entire body from head to toe. “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

“Mr. Shark? Damn, I’m sorry; I’m going to get a ticket if I stall at this curb much longer. You know how the meter monitors get around here. If you need more time, I can pull—”

“I’m going. Shit!”

One last, frantic kiss and I was out of the car. Joel pulled away from the curb before I could even get up on the sidewalk.

Buttoning my suit jacket didn’t do much to hide the erection throbbing between my legs. Luckily, no one was in the elevator when I got in. I reached into my waistband to adjust things, attempting to make the monster a little less visible. If I had to, I could deal with the problem when I got into my office but hoped to hold out for the real deal tonight. Likely, the minute I got to my desk, I’d be swamped with work. That would take care of all thoughts of my hot lady until I got home.

Fortunately, it did—until a few hours flew by, and I was jerking up my head when Grant’s knock sounded on my office door.

He and Elijah strode in before I could even answer his announcement.

“How did it go? Did you find out what you’re having? Banks and I have a bet going, and the stakes are very, very high.”

I looked back and forth between my two best friends—and their expectant stares. I debated how to respond—for all of three seconds.

“We’ve…uh…decided not to find out, after all.”

I almost gave myself away by cracking a proud smirk. Sometimes, life as an asshole really was so sweet. The chance to mess with my best friends was too damn good to pass up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Elijah exclaimed. “Ohhh, wait. Or was it just that they couldn’t tell? And you don’t want to admit failure on a test. That would be more like you.”

“For that comment, I’m definitely not telling you.” I pointed at him while getting up from behind my desk. The guy’s impatient irritation was so worth the price of going there. I gave in to a secret smile while striding over to my usual spot in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. My buddies joined me, one on either side.

“Fuck it,” Grant muttered. “I’ll just text Rio. She probably already knows.”

But as soon as the asshole pulled out his phone, I plucked the device from his hand. I was fast as a—well, a shark—about it, so he didn’t have time to react and defend his property.

“Bastard,” he snarled.

With a careless shrug, I said, “I’ve been called worse.”

“Probably today alone,” Elijah said.

“The bigger concept we have here,” I mused, “is why you feel okay about whipping out your…device…for casually communicating with Rio Gibson.” I lobbed the phone over my shoulder, knowing it would land safely on the big couch a few feet away. I did it all the time with my cell too. “Is this a normal, daily occurrence, Mr. Twombley?”

“No,” fumed Grant.

“Yes!” refuted Elijah.

Grant leaned back to dagger Banks with a glare, but his effort wasn’t necessary. I was already shifting out of the way, turning to lean against the windowpane. If the thing ever broke, I’d plummet to my death—but that didn’t stop Elijah from mirroring my pose one pane over. The effect was more officious than I intended, with us facing down Grant as if he were a defendant and we his prosecutors, but for now, it was working. The guy was definitely squirming.

“Come on, Twombley.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets, trying to appear relaxed. “What gives, man? And don’t think of bullshitting me.”

“Us,” Elijah corrected.

“Nothing ‘gives,’” Grant retorted while stomping to the sofa and seizing back his phone. “Just drop it, for fuck’s sake!”

“Damn, Twombley. That’s a lot of bluster for nothing going on.”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Grant spread his arms, turning his long index fingers into a matched pair of pointing desperation.

“Nooooo!” As Elijah and I moaned it together, we also twisted off the windows in opposite directions, moving like synchronized swimmers in the middle of a routine.

“You two can fuck off,” Grant leveled. “Seriously. Rio and I have been working together in that damn hell-hole kitchen for weeks. We’ve just gotten to know each other. She spends most of her days there. Did you know that? Shit. She’s probably there more time than she’s at home.”

He mumbled that last sentence, but I heard him. One glance at Elijah, and I knew he had too. “Uh-oh,” Banks drawled beneath his breath. “I think I know what this is.” He folded his arms. “LVS,” he stated. “Totally clear-cut case.”