Page 23 of My Best Friend's Billionaire Brother
“That’s a good girl,” I praise, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Take me like a good girl.”
She moans louder.
I pump faster, loving the feel as I thrust deeper and deeper each time, claiming this perfect woman as my own. Why did I never see her like this before? Why did I wait so long? Waste so many years?
I snake a hand between her stomach and bed, finding her clit and rubbing. She moans louder, and I pick up speed.
“Say my name, Josie,” I instruct, my lips against her ear.
“Will,” she pants, moaning in time with my thrusts. Her cries become more hysterical as I rub her clit faster.
“Say my name when you come,” I tell her.
A strangled moan escapes her. I can feel her pussy clenching around my cock. “Will!” she cries, her orgasm ripping through her. I’m right behind her, finishing with a deep groan.
We lay there panting, and in the light of day, it suddenly dawns on me what we’ve just done. I’ve sleptwith Chloe’s best friend. Herbest friend. Right before her wedding.
I glance at Josie, her face flushed and pink, her gorgeous eyes glistening. As much as I want this—as much as I mightneedit—this might just be the worst timing ever.
Chapter 13
Josie
I toss a t-shirt into my suitcase with a little more force than I’d intended, sending it skirting over the side and flying off my bed. I sit down with a sigh.
Chloe’s wedding is in two days. Two days. Chloe’s wedding. Her destination wedding in Cabo. Preparations, travel, nerves.That’s why Will hasn’t texted me, I tell myself. Or called. Or done anything at all since we had the best sex of my life two weeks ago.
Twice.
He hasn’t reached out because he’s busy.
But I’m not naïve. Maybe I would have been back in college. And maybe I still am today. But I’m old enough to recognize when it’s happening.
And I’m being naïve.
We’d parted on seemingly good terms. We both had work to get to, so he kissed me—sweetly, deeply, passionately—before heading out the door. And I’d waited for a text. Or a call. Or even a visit.
And … nothing.
Sure, I could have reached out too, but as the days went by, it just felt weirder and weirder. And now? Two weeks later?
Besides, I’m about to see him in literally an hour when the entire wedding party climbs aboard the Summers family private jet to fly us all to Cabo. My stomach is in knots just thinking about it.
Thankfully, I haven’t heard from Owen since Will chased him out of my apartment that night. It’s honestly the only reason I’m not furious with Will’sbehavior right now. Well, maybe I am a little furious. But mostly confused. And hurt.
And dreading the upcoming weekend.
Taking a deep breath and steeling my nerves, I hurriedly finish up packing, grab my purse, bid Roberta farewell with kiss atop her head—I have a pet sitter coming to check on her—and head out the door.
My nerves tangle violently in my stomach as I approach the airport where the Summers’ family jet is. It’s a small airport on the outskirts of Boston, and I park in the covered garage before seeing Chloe and making my way over to the jetway.
The rest of the bridesmaids are also getting out of their cars, and together, with all our luggage, we trundle onto the plane.
I’ve been on this jet once before—when I went on a family vacation with Chloe back in high school—but I forgot how insanely nice it is. There are couches—couches—along the sides, with coffee tables in themiddle laden with coffees and snacks set up and waiting for us.
“Ooooh, caramel!” Chloe exclaims, reaching down to grab a chocolate from the table.
Immediately, I clock Will and the rest of the guys scattered on couches at the back of the plane. Our eyes meet momentarily, and a shiver of adrenaline courses through me. As usual, his expression is unreadable—completely blank. It stirs something deep inside me. Anger? Frustration?
