Page 84 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

"That brings me to my request then," he says. "I want you to pose for me. I want to carve you, exactly as you look right now."

"Really?" I brush my hair back. I don't look all that great. My hair wind-swept from the ride, my cheeks red, and my makeup, probably splotchy.

But his eyes heat up like I'm wearing lingerie.

"Yes," he says. "Just like this."

I bite my lip. "Okay. Where do you want me?"

His eyes flare at my accidental double entendre and he responds. "I want you everywhere."

Desire flares to the forefront of my brain, but before I can act on it, he frantically moves, clearing a spot for me to sit.

Once I do, he caresses my cheeks then appears to yank himself away and to his wood carving tools. He begins to work, his eyes tracing me every now and then as his hand shuffles the wood and his other hard expertly slices it. The heated gleam in them rouses me, the sheer lust mixed with the crazed need to create.

I see how he needs this.

I love it.

I love his intensity, the fact that when I shift and touch my leg he jerks as though I flashed him How he's so aware of me.

He's hard. Dangerously so.

He carves so hastily that I think he’s gonna cut himself, going faster and faster, the harder he gets.

I’m so turned on too, so I shift my legs pressing them tighter, I moan escaping my lips.

That has him jerking up to his feet.

Without warning, he storms to me and fuses our lips together in a wet, ferocious kiss.

And he shudders in an obvious orgasm.

26

JAKE

The sound of the tape snapping grates on my nerves.

I glare at Adam, half-wishing I could snap that into his back. He’s had it out for that arch all day, claiming that the guys didn’t do it right. I don't see anything wrong with it personally, but that's just Adam for you. He’s a perfectionist and a micromanager by default. I swear, most of my job here is to get him to lay off the rest of our employees so they can do their job.

But he likes to be extremely hands-on with everything, and usually, I’m the one here helping him not to piss them off. But I can’t for the life of me do that today. I walk in here and can't so much as manage a smile. Everything has been irritating me, from the back pat that Boris gave me, to Sienna's nasally greeting, to the damn drill noise coming from the inner rooms, to Adam's godforsaken snapping.

“Enough," I finally snap. “Put that shit away, Adam, the arc is fine.”

“It's not–"

“It’s fine,” I say again, and this time there’s enough command in my voice that he turns around to raise an eyebrow.

“Who pissed in his coffee?” Amy murmurs, and I run my hand over my face.

“Listen. The arc is fine. Everything's fine. Let’s just do the final inspections, and everyone moves on. And where the fuck is Sam?”

A knowing look crosses Adam’s face as though he suddenly guessed the source of my irritation. I look away. I hate that I’m so obvious right now.

I’m not usually envious of people, especially not Sam. In fact, I work very hard not to be envious of him, but last night I was tormented by dreams of Chelsea falling in love with Sam and not wanting the rest of us anymore.

In the dream, I went to pick her up for our date, and she said, “Oh, actually, I don’t want either of you anymore, I just want to be with Sam.”