Over the Edge (Bridge #3)

He was watching, like a goddamn voyeur. And because I was drunk on lust, I didn’t care. And I didn’t think. My hands left Will’s dirty-blond locks. I skimmed up my thighs and hips, lifting my shirt up over my breasts. Cupping each breast, I gently twisted my nipples. They were sore and sensitive from the night before, and the pain shot right to my core. I was so close…so aroused and climbing higher with every passing second.

With one hand on the wall, Ian brought his other to the place where his erection visibly grew beneath his sweatpants. He bit down on his lip and squeezed, giving me the briefest view of its impressive girth. His abs tightened with the motion, and in that moment, he was all muscle and feral lust. It was too much. Two beautiful men and their attentions fixed on me…open…vulnerable…

I moaned when Will began rotating between the pressure of his fingers and the exquisite texture of his tongue on my clit. Good God…

Something inside me detonated. I couldn’t take it. I was falling and then flying high and crashing hard into another incredible orgasm.

My eyes closed. I cried out loudly, bowing off the counter. The orgasm seemed to ride out in waves, marked by my breathless cries and Will’s dedicated lapping against my oversensitive clit.

As the pleasure tapered off, little aftershocks rippled through me. When I opened my eyes again, Ian was gone and Will stood before me. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lifted me upright.

“I have to go,” he said breathlessly.

“But…”

I reached for him, but he caught my wrist.

“If I let you anywhere near my cock right now, I’m going to be even later than I already am.”

I pouted my lip a little. “Okay.”

“See me tonight.”

The hint of desperation in his voice made me want to give him everything. All of it, all the time.

A vague memory of me telling him he couldn’t beckon me whenever he wanted floated across my mind. I didn’t really care about that, not in my current mind-set, anyway. But through the fog, I remembered that I did have plans.

“I would, but I’m having dinner with my brothers.” Being gone last night most likely would have already raised suspicions. I couldn’t bail on our weekend dinner, even if Maya was probably going to grill me about Will again.

“Are you going to make me wait again?”

I smirked. “Not too long. I promise.”

“Call me after. If I can’t feel you, I want to hear you.” He brought his mouth over mine, kissing me tenderly. “How can I want you this badly already?”

I kissed him back, the same question echoing in my mind…

WILL



“So what do you say?”

“Huh?” I lifted my gaze from my picked-over lunch and focused on the man seated across from me.

I’d agreed to this meeting with my father, but as soon as the conversation turned to the fund he wanted me to take over, my thoughts had drifted.

To Olivia. I shouldn’t have let her stay over. I’d planned to break her down, shatter her until she was screaming my name. I wasn’t expecting to ravage her all goddamn night. I couldn’t leave her alone. And this morning, seeing her with Ian… Jealousy wasn’t a word in our shared dictionary when it came to feelings associated with the women we fucked. But something had tightened in my gut when I saw her in his arms.

All the more reason to let him seduce her. Once he’d had her, that feeling would surely go away. Getting possessive over Olivia wouldn’t serve anyone. I’d promised her nothing but pleasure. Either of us could deliver on that. And the arrangement between Ian and me had been set months ago. Why renege and screw up a good thing?

He could have a taste, but I wasn’t letting her go. In fact, not knowing when I’d see her again was proving a constant distraction. In my youth of privilege, I’d managed to stay away from the hard drugs that I could easily afford, but I imagined this might be what it was like to come off a really good hit of heroin. I was tired and restless, and I wanted to crawl inside of this woman next chance I had. Lose myself there and hide away from the problem that was currently looking me in the face.

Bill Donovan was aging before my eyes. The investigation had been underway for months and clearly had taken a physical toll on my father. More of his hair had turned from brown to white, and his eyes seemed tired. The stress was eating at him. I almost felt sorry for him.

“You look terrible,” I finally said.

He exhaled and rubbed along the deep grooves on his forehead. “I guess that’ll happen when you’re facing jail time.”

“You sound so certain.”

His expression didn’t change, but his shoulders hunched slightly.

“Was it worth it?”

He shook his head. “I ask myself every day. It’s easy to cut corners when you’re flying high. Christ, people do it every day.”

“So you don’t regret it.”

“Obviously,” he snapped. “I fucking regret it now.”

I clenched my teeth. Bastard. His only remorse was getting caught. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Dad.”

He dropped his fist on the table loudly enough for the silverware to rattle. “Goddamnit, Will. I need you to step up. I let you fuck around long enough. Didn’t I? I gave you fun money, whatever you needed to get the girls, get your little ventures going. Playtime is over. We’re talking about real money here. The kind of money that ensures the next four or five generations of our family are taken care of.”