Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22366 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Our lamb needs us…and Liam needs me to be the one to just fucking admit it already.
They're both suffering. And still, I'm frozen, afraid to admit what I really want. Afraid to let them see how fucking bad I want it. But if I have to fall to spare them, then so be it. I'll fall. One of us has to before we all crack apart.
"We can't do this anymore," I growl, pushing my laptop away. "It isn't working."
"No shit," Liam says. "We're banning fucking straws in the office. And dresses." He scowls, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. "Can we require parkas if we blast the air?"
"That's not what I meant."
"If you're talking about firing her, I may hit you."
As I said, he's hotheaded. He's also fiercely protective. We hired Lola as a favor to his cousin, Arwen. She needed intern hours to finish her graduate degree, and we needed someone around here who knows marketing and business management. Even if she were a disaster in the office, which she isn't, he wouldn't fire her. Neither would I. She can take the company as far as I'm concerned.
I wouldn't lift a finger to stop her. There are reasons we get up in the morning—things that keep us moving. And then there's Lola. She's in a category all by herself. I think she's the reason Liam and I exist, the missing piece we've been searching for our entire lives. We felt it as soon as she stepped off that elevator. For the first time in my life, my whole soul was in the same room. Whoever said you only have one soulmate lied. I have two—the best friend I'd die for and the woman we'd kill for. She was born for us, or we were born for her. Either way, she belongs to us.
"Of course not." I scowl at him. "Shut up and listen."
Liam flings himself down on the sofa to glower at me, his long legs stretched out before him, his hands folded over his stomach. He's the picture of relaxation even though we both know he's ready to start ripping our office apart. He listens, though. Liam doesn't listen to many people. He doesn't usually care enough about what they have to say to hear them out.
He listens when I speak. Hell, sometimes I think I'm the only one who can get through to him.
"We can't keep doing this," I say quietly, choosing my words carefully. "We're both losing our fucking minds trying to stay away from her. It's not working for either of us."
"Understatement," he snorts. "You've turned into a bigger prick than usual."
"And you've turned into a hotheaded idiot."
He grunts but doesn't disagree.
"We need to negotiate new terms."
"Like what?"
"We have that trip to the vineyards in Tahoe in two days," I say quietly. "While we're there, I think we should make our feelings clear. She'll decide whatever she decides. And we agree to honor that, no matter what."
"If she decided she wanted me, you'd step back and let me pursue her?"
I swallow the pain that wells up from my chest at the thought of the two of them happy without me. It'd kill me, no doubts about that. But I have no intention of letting that happen. "If that's what she wanted, I'd do it for the two of you."
His gaze bounces from mine, his jaw clenched as if he doesn't believe me. I know he does, though. I see the truth written all over his face. He'd do the same if Lola decided she wanted me. Even if it killed him. We're connected in a way that defies convention. We have been since the day we met on his family's vineyard when I was sixteen.
For fifteen years, I thought that meant something different, that it meant we were brothers. I was wrong. We aren't brothers, and we never were. We're something else, something more profound. We're Mitra and Varuna, the two faces of the moon that exist only because of the other. For the first time, I'm thinking maybe he's realizing it too.
"And if she chooses both of us?" he asks, his voice a soft growl. "If she wants both of us?"
My cock digs into my zipper so hard it hurts. I discreetly reach beneath the desk and squeeze myself, trying to ease the ache. My eyes meet his. "Then we claim our girl."
He dips his head in a nod, but not before I see the excitement in his eyes.
"You've thought about it," he says.
"Every fucking day," I admit.
"Fuck." His hands clench and then relax, his body shuddering, not with disgust but with desire. "Fuck." He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't have to say it. I know him. Hell, I know him better than he knows himself. He's thought about it. He's considered it, probably from every angle. And he wants it.