Frisco
I don’t suffer fools easily. The trajectory my career has taken is proof enough of that. You don’t get to where I am in life by letting people walk all over you because the world of business is a jungle. It’s eat or be eaten, and if you want to get to the top, you can’t be afraid to hurt people’s feelings. It’s true that I’ve only been in business about ten years, but I’ve learned how to assert my dominance when necessary. That’s how I managed to climb the ladder, starting from nothing, to own one of the most successful coffee chains in the country. You either grow a backbone, or you get lost in the shuffle.
That’s also why, when my doorbell rings at 9:30 p.m., I almost don’t answer it. I’ve had a hell of a week, and I was looking forward to enjoying a glass of bourbon alone in my penthouse apartment. It’s a Friday night, after all, and even CEOs have to wind down somehow or risk burning out.
I look around leisurely. Everything in my apartment is top of the line, from the minimalist lamps to the plush carpets. It comes with the territory, and understated elegance has always been my style. I haven’t even had a chance to change out of my work shirt and trousers, I’ve been so busy answering emails ever since stepping in the door.
What the hell does this unexpected visitor want? I scowl. This is my only chance to get some alone time, and the last thing I want to do is deal with some other crisis on a Friday night.
The doorbell rings again insistently. Well, whoever it is, they’re persistent. Damn it, I think, striding coolly across the apartment to answer it. It’s probably just a nosy neighbor, and I’m preparing a short but polite dismissal, my eyes hooded and my shoulders tense. Angrily, I yank the heavy slab open, but the harsh words in my throat die a quick death when I see who it is.
After all, standing in my doorway is none other than Libby Rain. It’s been a while since I last saw my kid brother’s girlfriend, but once the shock of seeing her on my doorstep wears off, I’m able to get a better look at her. And I’m definitely looking.
The curvy girl is dressed in a mini skirt so short that it verges on indecent, but it hugs her voluptuous thighs and wide hips perfectly. Above it is a tight tank top with a low neckline that provides a tantalizing view of her cleavage, complete with a sexy shadow between those pillowy mounds. The outfit is enough to induce a faint ache in my groin, and that’s after about three seconds.
Libby Rain is a beautiful girl. No, not beautiful. Stunning. I’ve known that since the first time I saw her, back at a Christmas dinner with my brother Patrick and our folks. That’s one of the reasons I’ve kept my distance. She’s my brother’s girlfriend, and in spite of the urges that I feel every time I see her - writhing, hot, filthy urges - I know not to rock that boat.
Still, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s standing before me now, looking even more gorgeous than I remember. Her perfect brown curls cascade around her shoulders, framing her face like a halo that matches her deep, chocolate brown eyes.
Her eyes. In spite of her form-fitting outfit, those doe-like eyes stare up at me from under thick eyelashes with a naive innocence that sets a fire blazing in the pit of my stomach. It’s amazing how quickly I forget about my other plans for the evening. My whole world has condensed to the woman standing in front of me, everything else dropping away. I catch myself wondering what it would be like to run my hands down those luscious curves, to caress her perfect breasts and drag her against my body. It’s not the first time I’ve had these urges, but it’s certainly the most intense.
Gritting my teeth, I manage to speak. “Libby,” I say stiffly. “How are you?”
“Hi, Frisco.” She sounds tentative. “Um, I’m good.”
Silence for a moment.
“So, what are you doing here? Is there something I can help you with? Where’s Patrick?” I ask, peering behind her.
But Libby’s alone and she bites her lip, her eyes darting away from me as she rubs her arm. “Patrick’s at home, but he knows I’m here,” she rushes. “I’m sorry it’s so late,” she adds apologetically. “I hope I’m not intruding. Your brother gave me your address, but I was also here for Christmas dinner last year.”
“I remember.” I remember the glances I stole at her from across the table when she wasn’t looking, damning my brother for having claimed her before I got the chance. I remember the thoughts that ran through my mind as I lay awake in bed that night. “You’re not intruding,” I say, still a bit tense.
“I’m glad,” she replies, breaking out into a smile that lights up her whole face. “I know it’s a bit out of the blue, but I…” She pauses, swallows, and continues. “To be honest I’m having a bit of a career crisis, and I don’t know who else to talk to. I don’t know anything about business, and you know I’m a barista at the Blue Bean, right? I just thought since you run your own coffee chain, maybe I could get your advice?”
“Ah,” I say, still stiff as I stare at her. Did I really think she came here for me? The thought sends a fresh wave of sexual frustration through my body, but I manage a brisk nod. “Sure, I have a few minutes.” Of course, it’s a complete lie, but it doesn’t matter. “I would be happy to answer any questions you have, even on a Friday night.”
“Really?” She bats those long eyelashes. “That would be fantastic. Seriously. I can’t thank you enough, Frisco.”
“The pleasure’s all mine,” I growl, holding the door open for her. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”
Libby does so, following me as I turn and head back into my living room. “Oh wow. I forgot how big your place is.”
“You know Portland. It’s hard to find anything that’s not a broom closet,” I joke, making her giggle. The sound is breathy and innocent, and I catch myself, not for the first time, wondering what other kinds of sounds I could coax out of her. “Can I get you some water? Or soda?”
“That’s all right,” Libby replies, taking a seat on my sofa. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Sure, no problem,” I tell her, the corner of my mouth quirking up as I sit down next to her. “Besides, maybe you know more about the business than you think. Maybe you can teach me, and not the other way around.”
She laughs again, and the tinkling sound works its way through my body, straight down to my cock. “Hmm, which business school class is that, again? Where the barista teaches the CEO?” she teases.
That actually prompts a laugh from me, and I can see her relax a little, leaning back onto the sofa. The hem of her mini skirt rides up ever so slightly, revealing more of Libby’s pale thigh. I’ve never been alone with this woman before, and the experience is electric. In the past, Patrick was always present, or our parents, and that helped my restraint somewhat. Now, though, with no one to watch us, it takes everything I have not to move closer, to put my hand on that smooth skin and pull her body into mine. Does she have any idea what seeing her like this is doing to me? Could my younger brother ever give her what I want to give her right now?
I shake the thought away and clear my throat. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”
“Yeah, it has,” Libby admits, glancing shyly away. “It’s a little weird to be here without Patrick. I feel like those are they only times we’ve been in each other’s company.”
“That’s understandable,” I reply. “We’ve basically only met during the holidays before, so it makes sense. Plus, you must have a lot going on.”
Libby raises her eyebrows incredulously. “I should be saying that to you. You’re a billionaire CEO. I’m just the help.”
“You’re not just anything,” I correct her in a mild tone. “Everyone starts somewhere. I started out working in the service industry, same as you. And I can guarantee you’re doing a better job there than I ever did.” My smile grows a bit more.
“That’s kind of you,” Libby murmurs, and I see the faintest blush creep into her cheeks.
I clench my jaw hard enough that I can hear it creak. It’s taking all my self-control not to push her onto the couch and take her, so I force myself to address the matter at hand. “So what’s going on? What kind of career crisis are we talking about here?”
Libby takes a breath. “Well, like I mentioned, I’ve been working at the Blue Bean, and Dakota Straithmore, the girl who owns it, is my best friend. She has been since we were in high school. I was there when she first opened the place, and now I’m working for her. I mean, I appreciate Dakota giving me a job, but it’s like she’s suddenly both my best friend and my boss. You know?”
“Yup,” I nod. “You don’t know how to handle the situation, right?”
“Right,” she says. “It’s complicated.”
I steeple my hands, my business instincts taking over. Better those than my carnal ones at least. “Well,” I ask, raising my eyebrows, “how has it been going so far? You’ve been there for a while now, right? What’s the dynamic like?”
“I mean…” Libby fidgets. “I guess it hasn’t been going badly. It’s gone pretty well, actually, now that I think about it.” She stumbles over her words as she continues. “Dakota treats me nice, actually. Although…” She bites her lip in a way that lights a fresh fire inside me, and it’s clear that she’s searching for an explanation. “I guess she does ask me to clean the bathrooms more than the other baristas.”
Her fumbling response prompts a burst of laughter that rumbles deep in my chest. “That’s not a problem,” I point out. “That takes, what? All of two minutes?”
Libby’s pink cheeks go a shade of bright red and she breaks eye contact, mumbling, “It takes five minutes every hour.”
Smiling, I shake my head slowly. It’s clear there’s something else on her mind, and my curiosity is only growing stronger with each passing second. “Libby,” I say, still gazing down at her, “come on. We’re both adults here, and we both know this bathroom-cleaning thing isn’t a big deal. Why are you really at my apartment?”
Libby glances up at me, and then quickly away, and I can see her willpower breaking. The playfulness in her expression vanishes, only to be replaced by a look of sadness and confusion. “You’re right,” she murmurs, still not meeting my eyes. “Well, I guess it’s that your brother had me thrown in jail. I just got out this morning,” she confesses in a rush.
My brow furrows. “He what?”
“It’s a long story,” Libby replies before finally looking at me again. “Frisco,” she asks hesitantly, “did you know your younger brother goes to sex clubs with goth girls?”
And there it is, the whole truth. In retrospect, it all makes sense. Slowly, I nod, clearing my throat as the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place. “It’s those photos, isn’t it?” I ask knowingly. “You’re the one who leaked them.”
Libby’s big eyes go even wider. “How did you-”
“I heard it through the grapevine,” I respond. “Gossip spreads fast in our community, especially when it has to do with the church. You know that.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Libby says, sounding utterly miserable as tears begin to trickle down her face. She wipes at them frantically, looking embarrassed and angry at the same time. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t want to-”
“Don’t worry about it, Libby,” I tell her honestly, looking away while she composes herself. “To answer your question,” I go on, “No. I had no idea Patrick was into that kind of stuff before those photos surfaced.”
“I feel so stupid,” Libby whispers, wringing her hands. “It’s just that he’s into all this kinky stuff, and I had no idea. Things that look really painful and awkward, with peoples’ limbs twisted in all sorts of directions, not to mention the blood. All this time with him, and now I find out I never really knew him. “
“Hey, sweetheart,” I say, scooting closer to her. “Don’t think about it like that. If anything, you should be looking at this as a favor. You dodged a bullet. Imagine what would have happened if you had stayed with Patrick. Hell, if you had married him. If my brother has kinks that aren’t right for you, then it’s for the best that you found out early.”
Fresh tears trickle down Libby’s cheeks and she shakes her head in hopeless confusion. “It’s just shocking that’s all,” she mutters. “And I had no idea! And now he’s… I’m…”
Seeing her like that makes the last of my willpower dissolve. “Hey.” I reach over to her, cupping her face in my hands and brushing her tears away. She looks up at me with big, frightened eyes. “It’s okay, Libby,” I murmur. “This is all going to work out.”
“How do you know?” she protests weakly.
“I just do,” I say in a low voice. She feels so fragile in my hands, like the wrong move would break her, yet I’m so hard that it hurts. I can feel the heat coming off of her body, can see her quivering lips, and the months of resisting finally come crashing down.
I lower my mouth to Libby’s and kiss her, claiming the curvy girl as my own.