Page 80 of This

Aubrey spins around with a dangerous grin. “You officially own half of Masters Financial, Dane. That’s huge, and since no one’s bothered to throw you a party or anything, I’m setting it right.”

I lean back in my chair as she steps around the corner of my desk. Official is pushing it. The trust still isn’t settled, thanks to Greg. Not to mention, the reason I’m half-owner is hardly grounds to assemble a planning committee and hang a banner.

After filling both the glasses, she holds up one and wiggles the other at me. “Come on,” she whines when I don’t take it. “Let’s make a toast.”

Curious of her angle, I humor her and clink my flute to hers. “Here’s to firing your husband at will.”

She cackles, bumping her knee against mine. It stays there, and her eyes never leave me as we drink. A much less subtle play for my attention than the nudes. Or it is until the knee glides up my thigh, and she crawls onto my lap, straddling me in my office chair.

I force my eyes up from the anniversary-gift tits now in my face. “Aubrey.”

But she dismisses my warning.

“Greg wants to destroy you.” She runs her hands up to my chest. “You have his house and his business. So, why not finish the job? Takeeverythingthat’s his and ruin him first.”

Her fingers tug at a button, then greedily go for another when I don’t stop her. I should be stopping her, but for the first time, I’m entertaining her sick little game. People passing by will hear her moaning and tell Greg. Or maybe he’ll charge in with a new accusation and see his wife bent over my desk.

The last one reminds me of theclickwhen she came in.

“The door’s locked?”

“Uh-huh.” She slides my hands up her bare thighs. “No one’s getting in.”

Aubrey bucks her hips against me, and despite my dick’s obvious interest, I can’t look away from the damn door.

All my dreams about Bennett happen in my office. I’m sitting in this chair when she walks back into my life. When she smiles and laughs her wild laugh.

The subconscious is easily influenced. If I screw Aubrey in here, then in the next dream, she might be the one on the other side of the door. Or Bennett will pound for me to let her in, but I won’t be able to work the lock.

Shit. Not even my neglected dick is willing to risk losing a dream version of her I can’t even touch.

Loving this woman is a sickness, missing her a disease.

When Aubrey tugs my lip between her teeth, I pull back.

“You need to get off me.”

Her hips stop moving as she sits back. “What?”

“We’re not having sex, so you can get back at Greg. We’re not having sex at all, so you need to get the fuck off.”

“Wait, think about it,” she starts, planting her hands on my chest.

Except I’ve already thought about it, and rather than let her finish, I do what I should have done in the first place. I stand up, and her ass bounces off the carpet. When I moved back to Phoenix, I swore, I wouldn’t play into the soap-opera level of drama waiting for me. Now, I’m one bad line away from a starring role. Revenge houses, disinheritance schemes, illicit affairs.

Aubrey scrambles to her feet, her cheeks red with embarrassment. I won’t add to it. I simply grab my keys and phone off the desk. “Shut off the light when you leave.”

I walk straight from my office to Liam’s. Most everyone is gone. Shane passes me on his way out, his eyes warm, and he gives a firm pat to my shoulder. I’ve always admired his ability to stay above the bullshit within these walls, envied how he taught Liam to do the same.

I collapse into a chair across from my cousin’s desk. “Go for a drink with me before Keaton gets off work.”

He squints from behind his glasses. We haven’t been to a bar, just the two of us, in almost a year. Since before I chased Bennett into a dressing room where we exchanged promises disguised as something else.

“Am I playing therapist?”

“I don’t need therapy,” I say.

After a long pause, he sits back in his seat. “So, I’m back to being your wingman?”

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