A strangled groan tore from her throat, the first beat coursing through her clit.
“We’re gonna make you come, Lace. So fucking hard.”
Lacey’s phone chimed again. She gave a startled jerk, snapping from her fantasy. Holy shit. Her breath sawing from her lungs in short gasps, she dropped her gaze to her lap, half afraid she’d find her hand buried between her legs. She was relieved to note that it wasn’t. Mortifying enough that she’d been mentally masturbating at work. If she’d been pleasuring herself in reality? She would have crawled beneath her desk and not come out for the next week, particularly if Ry had opened his eyes and noticed what she’d been up to.
Reminded of her fantasy lover’s presence, her focus veered to the couch. He was still in his relaxed pose, and the unmistakable sound of soft snores proclaimed him asleep.
Thank God for small miracles.
Her cell beeped again, announcing yet another text. There was no great mystery as to who it was most likely from. Smothering a sigh, she swiped the aggravating device from her bag and glanced at the words typed on the screen. Why aren’t you rescuing me?
She skipped to the previous message. Olivia’s got me cornered in the bar.
Lacey blew out a heavy breath. Olivia Barnam was only one among a long parade of bimbettes who’d fallen into Bram’s bed, but the woman had proven to be less willing to leave it than the others, and as a result, had gotten into the habit of stalking him at work. While she wasn’t exactly a fan of Olivia’s, Bram was a big boy. Let him take care of his own damn problems. She punched in a quick reply. Busy right now.
Almost immediately, Bram’s response pinged back at her. I’ll do anything you want. Just. Get. Your. Ass. Out. Here.
Anything she wanted? Her pussy grew even wetter as she considered the possibilities. Yeah, not bloody likely. She eyed the wall before quickly typing in her selling price. Elvis. I want him destroyed.
Bram’s answer took a little longer coming this time. Ry won’t go for that.
Sucks to be you, then. A spark of orneriness prompted her to add, Give Olivia a smooch from me. She hit send. Before she even lowered her cell to her desk, Bram’s message flashed across the display.
Fine. Elvis is adios.
Ooh, yeah. Victory tasted sweet. She scooted out of her seat and strode to the door. A moment later she left Ry’s snores behind and entered the Dockside’s bar area. Although it wasn’t technically happy hour yet, the space was already getting crowded. She spotted Bram over by the pass thru, his smile strained as Olivia plastered her sex-kitten body against him. Wow, he hadn’t been exaggerating about being cornered. Olivia had literally backed him into the wall.
Lacey’s irritability vanished. Big boy or not, Bram had been forced into an untenable situation. He couldn’t very well make a scene in front of everyone, and Olivia damn well knew that.
Anger roiling in her stomach, Lacey crossed the room. As she neared, Bram looked her way and caught her eye. Relief scuttled across his gorgeous face. Elbowing her way to his side, she plunked her hands on her hips. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Did you forget you were supposed to help me look for the extra case of pilsner glasses?”
Bram took his cue in stride and, with an overabundance of exuberance, slapped his hand on his forehead and grimaced. “Damn, I did. Sorry.”
Holy crap that was some bad acting. No wonder he was kicked out of the drama club. And here she’d always assumed it was because he’d been caught buck-ass naked in the costume changing room with Allison Reedy.
She wagged a finger at him. “Sorry’s not going to cut it, Colton. I’m getting a little tired of constantly covering your butt.”
Bram’s eyes widened. Apparently he’d read between the lines. Good. He needed to either learn how to handle his bimbettes better, or keep his dick in his pants once in a while.
Olivia’s smile should have come with a frostbite warning. “Bram and I were in the middle of a conversation. He’ll have to help you later.”
Lacey blinked before narrowing her eyes. Oh hell no. The bitch did not just undermine me in my own damn restaurant. “No, I need him now.” Amazingly, she managed to keep her voice level and calm.
Flicking one long, platinum strand of hair over her shoulder, Olivia swept Lacey with a disdainful glance. “Please. We both know why you really came trotting over here.”
It was on the tip of Lacey’s tongue to say, Yeah, to save my best friend from Stalkerella. Frankly, she didn’t care if the truth pissed off Olivia, but like Bram, she didn’t want to draw any more attention than they had to. “I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me there.”
“We’ve all seen the way you drool over Bram. And Ryan.” Olivia’s high-pitched laugh was more headache inducing than a kennel full of yipping Pomeranians. “As if you’d have the slightest chance, honey. You couldn’t even keep your fiancé’s attention for long, could you?”
Lacey’s face went hot as fire before becoming icy cold. It was a strange sensation. She dimly heard Bram’s low, furious baritone reprimanding Olivia, but the damning words were already out there, hovering in the air like poisoned darts.
“You know why Dan left, don’t you? Because you’re boring. A goody-goody who doesn’t know the first thing about how to please a man. Or keep him happy.” Olivia’s obnoxious, tinkling laugh floated free. “Or should we say keep him period?”
Lacey didn’t bother correcting the misstatement about Dan being the one who left. It didn’t matter, and Olivia sure as hell didn’t care. Bitter acid sloshed in Lacey’s tummy, burning her esophagus. She swallowed, desperate to keep it down.
“I told you to shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Bram’s rugged, handsome features held a wealth of rage as his fingers dug into the powder blue cashmere covering Olivia’s arms. The woman’s heavily made-up eyes widened. Obviously she’d never experienced the full scope of Bram’s temper.
That made two of them. In the fifteen years she’d known Bram, Lacey hadn’t seen him lose it like this either. He’d always been the eternal goodtime boy. Full of light and laughter. In every way Bram was the polar opposite of Ry. He was a jokester and all-around ham, whereas Ry exuded quiet intensity. Even in looks the two men would never be mistaken for twins. Besides standing a good three inches taller than Ry’s solid six foot one, Bram had the sun-kissed, blond surfer-god vibe working for him in spades. Ry, on the other hand, looked more suited to a Harley than board shorts. Though God knows, he filled those out mighty fine too on the rare occasions he donned a pair.
But now Bram appeared to be getting in touch with his inner alpha. “If I ever hear you talk to Lacey that way again, so help me, I can’t be held responsible for my actions. Comprende?”
Olivia gulped before nodding vigorously.
“Glad we have that clear. Now how about you leave before I have the bouncers escort you out?”
Her full, bottom lip turning down in a pout, Olivia curled her fingers around Bram’s forearms. “But I drove here specifically to see you. I’ve missed you, Brammy Bear.”
Brammy Bear? Oh barf.
“I’m not telling you this again. We’re no longer together. Don’t waste your time or mine anymore.” Not waiting for Olivia’s reply, Bram shouldered past her and grabbed Lacey by the elbow. He hauled her toward his and Ry’s office, his pace brisk. With her shorter legs, it took two steps to his one to keep up with him. He shoved open his door and followed her inside the cramped space before securing the lock to guarantee their privacy. The overwhelming, pungent smell of plastic greenery and cinnamon-spiked pinecones floated around them. Bram tunneled a hand through his spiky hair. “Shit. Lace, I’m sorry. Olivia’s an idiot.”