The S.I.N. Collection (The Sharpe Brothers)

CHAPTER ONE

Sutton

“Penny for your thoughts, Sutton.”

“What?” I ask my boss, distracted and more than a little tired.

Not exactly the best state to be in when trying to impress a new client, but it was definitely worth it.

Roz studies me with a quizzical expression and repeats, “I said a penny for your thoughts.”

Everything from last night flashes in my mind. Him standing between my thighs. The incredible burn the first time he pushed into me.

Tell me what you want. His words whispered into the curve of my shoulder.

The grip of his hands on my thighs.

The slide of his tongue over my skin.

The feel of his cock in me.

Drowning in pleasure like I’ve never felt before.

I give Roz what I’m certain is a deer in the headlights look as I struggle with how to answer her. “I—um—”

“Don’t be nervous.” She offers a pat on the top of my hand, mistaking my fumbling for anxiety instead of a trip down memory lane.

“I’m not.”

I am.

How do I even have the bandwidth to be nervous?

But when I look around the imposing lobby, how can I not be? I mean, we are on the top floor of a skyscraper in Manhattan waiting to meet the people who will be the judge of my skills.

Add to that, after the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours, anxiety should be my middle name.

The confrontation with my best friend, Lizzy.

Roz unexpectedly selecting me to lead this project.

My unanticipated breakup with Clint. My first and only one-night stand, which I’m honestly still reeling from hours after waking up in an empty bed in the hotel suite.

“You are.” She offers me a smile, her eyes studying me from behind the frames of her black glasses.

“Look. I know this is last minute and you’re still trying to digest all the details I’ve thrown at you, but I have no doubt you’ll do great.

And what you don’t know, just fake it till you figure it out.

” She winks. “If you’re going to be thrown to the wolves, at least pretend you know how to howl. That’s how we all do it.”

“I’ll save you from me howling right now.

” I chuckle and think of the client files and specs I pored over this morning as I gulped down my espresso.

Let’s just hope I can remember enough of the important details to sound coherent for this meeting.

At least I’ll have three days and a long plane ride to memorize the remainder of the specifics.

“You’ll do fine. Just remember the partners aren’t as intimidating as they seem at first. Plaster a smile on your lips and look at me if you need me to fill in the blanks for you.”

I assume she’s speaking of the Sharpe brothers of Sharpe International Network (or S.I.N.

as the receptionist referred to it on the phone when we walked in), but Roz’s words, now that we are standing in their office, are a complete contradiction to what she said yesterday.

Yesterday she claimed the partners were consummate perfectionists, demanding yet fair.

Reluctantly, I nod. That’s all I can do because there’s no backing out now.

“Oh, and just a warning, the three of them are—”

“They’re ready for you now,” a smartly dressed assistant says, her heels clicking on the white marble floors as she approaches us.

“Thank you,” Roz and I both say as we stand and follow her. I study the seam of her pencil skirt in an attempt to abate the nerves rioting within me.

I can do this.

Do one thing for you, Sutton.

Lizzy’s words repeat in my head, an affirmation that I’m doing the right thing, as the assistant opens the tall door into the conference room. Roz enters first with me following behind her.

“Gentlemen,” Roz says in way of greeting as she steps to the side to give me a clear view of the room’s occupants.

My feet falter.

My heart stops.

My jaw falls lax.

Oh. Shit.

Sitting on the opposite side of the conference table from where we stand is the man who was wrapped around me—was in me, was on me—last night.

I then glance to the second man and oh shit.

There’s two of them. Twins. Is this for real?

You’re just stressed. Just exhausted. I draw in a shaky breath as I glance at the third man, returning with his coffee to the table.

Oh. Fuck.

This can’t be happening.

There are three of them. Identical triplets. All three stunningly handsome. All three staring directly at me.

And I swear to God, I have no idea whose scent is still in my nose and whose taste is still on my tongue.

“Hello there,” the middle one with the crisp white shirt and bold red tie says. His smile is crooked but given with a mixture of warmth and amusement. “Sorry. Did Roz not warn you? We know it can be a little jarring walking in and seeing the three of us.”

“I’m sorry. Yes.” Get your wits about you.

I give a small shake of my head. “Hello.” I work a swallow down my throat as I fight the heat creeping into my cheeks.

“I’m Sutton Pierce.” I meet each one of their eyes, my tongue thick in my mouth.

I’m not sure if I want or don’t want to see a flicker of recognition in one of them. “Nice to meet you.”

The one on the right draws my eyes as he chuckles.

He has a dark gray dress shirt on. It’s open at the collar, his shirtsleeves rolled up showcasing firm forearms and strong hands.

His hair is a little longer than his brothers’.

I stare at his hands, my mind wondering if they were the ones that rendered me breathless one moment and crying out the next.

“It’s our pleasure.” His eyes meet mine when I look up. Hold them.

Was it him?

Images from last night flash through my head.

Paralyze me. Me on my knees looking up at his amber-colored eyes with his cock thick and hard on my lips.

The way his teeth dug into his bottom lip as he pushed his way into me.

The curl to his hair as he licked me between my thighs.

The way he . . . made me feel when I never knew I could feel like that.

The snapshots are like a reel in my head.

A reel I can’t stop.

I’m aroused. Confused. Dumbfounded.

So fucking screwed.

And all these things are happening as I’m standing and being judged by the men before me.

“Please, take a seat,” the brother on the left says. I take in his white dress shirt, dark gray vest, and yellow tie. But he has the same eyes. The same smile. The same hair.

And he has a Starbucks to-go cup sitting in front of him.

It had to be him. Right?

Snap out of it. Act normal. Act like one of these men didn’t ruin you for other men.

“Thank you,” I murmur and take a seat next to Roz, blaringly aware that one of these men is currently undressing me with his eyes.

It takes everything I have not to stare at each one, to try and remember his nuances so I can figure out which one I was with.

Either that or crawl under the table and die from absolute mortification.

Instead, I focus more intently than any human should on getting my pad of paper and pen out of my bag so I can take notes.

“I’m Fordham Sharpe,” yellow tie and vest says. “Please, call me Ford. This is Ledger.” He points to the brother in the middle with the red tie. “And that’s Callahan.” Dark gray shirt, no tie, lifts his hand and nods.

“There will be a test later,” Callahan says, drawing my eyes back to him. Our gazes hold for a beat. Are you Johnnie Walker?

“Don’t worry,” Ledger says, pulling me from my dizzying thoughts. “The longer you work with us, the more you’ll be able to tell us apart. We really are quite different.”

Callahan snorts.

“He’s the youngest,” Ford offers up and smirks as Callahan rolls his eyes. “We try not to hold that against him.”

All three smile and I swear even Roz sighs beside me from the sheer beauty of the sight in front of us.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”