Page 18 of Filthy Rich Brother's Best Friends

She tosses a casual glance over her shoulder. “You didn’t bring your roommates?”

“They’ll follow. Or they won’t.”

“Hmm.”

I follow her through the living room. The music’s playing low from a speaker near the window. It's something upbeat and trendy I’ve heard before. Everything about this place screams feminine and expensive from the sickly-sweet smell to the obscene number of throw pillows scattered about on the furniture.

When we reach the kitchen, she stops just shy of the doorway and turns to face me full-on.

“I should warn you,” she says, smile widening. “My roommates are very single. Very curious. And very, very competitive.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint.”

“Oh, honey.” Her gaze drops to my mouth, lingers, then slides back up. “I already told them they’re too late.”

“Is that so?” I murmur.

Gigi bites her lip and steps in close. She tilts her chin toward me, waiting to see what I’ll do with the opening. I reach for her before she pulls away. My hand settles at her waist, fingers sliding across the curve of her hip.

I lean in close enough to press my lips to her ear. “You’ve been working hard to get my attention. You have it.”

She giggles. “Good. I’d hate to waste the outfit.”

“You didn’t.”

She steps back half a step, cheeks flushed now.

“You should know,” she says, voice lower. “I’m a terrible hostess.”

“I’m not here for manners.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine.”

She smooths her hand down the front of her dress again, and backs toward the hallway.

“Kitchen’s this way.” Gigi glances over her shoulder, then raises her voice. “Ladies, we have a guest.”

Another woman appears and I assume it’s one of Gigi’s roommates. Her dress has more coverage than Gigi’s, but it’s hanging on by sheer willpower alone. Her tits are front and center, pushed up to the edge of reason, and I make no attempt to hide where my eyes land.

She watches me watch her. It only makes her smile wider. She places her hand on my bicep and makes a soft low humming sound.

“Oh my,” she says, dragging her eyes up to mine. “You’ll do quite well.”

“I’m Blaire,” the newcomer says. “And I collect bad habits. How do you feel about being one of them?”

“Not a fan of being collected.”

Her fingers trail down my chest now. “You’re tall, unfairly symmetrical, and clearly in need of a new girlfriend.”

“Subtlety is an art, Blaire.” Gigi rolls her eyes.

“I don’t believe in subtle.” Blaire turns her head slightly, eyes still on me. “Especially when he looks like this.”

“I told you he was cute.”

“He’s better than cute.”

Blaire loops her arm through mine and leads me into the kitchen. She starts talking again—something about her roommates and the grill, a joke about one of them breaking the corkscrew. But I’m not really listening.