Last Resort: S.I.N. Series Read online

  LAST RESORT

  S.I.N. SERIES, BOOK ONE

  K. BROMBERG

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG

  ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG

  COPYRIGHT

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG

  “K. Bromberg always delivers intelligently written, emotionally intense, sensual romance . . .”

  —USA Today

  “K. Bromberg makes you believe in the power of true love.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Audrey Carlan

  “A poignant and hauntingly beautiful story of survival, second chances, and the healing power of love. An absolute must-read.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting

  “An irresistibly hot romance that stays with you long after you finish the book.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Bromberg is a master at turning up the heat!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans

  “Supercharged heat and full of heart. Bromberg aces it from the first page to the last.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott

  ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG

  Driven Series

  Driven

  Fueled

  Crashed

  Raced

  Aced

  Driven Novels

  Slow Burn

  Sweet Ache

  Hard Beat

  Down Shift

  The Player Duet

  The Player

  The Catch

  Everyday Heroes

  Cuffed

  Combust

  Cockpit

  Control (Novella)

  Wicked Ways

  Resist

  Reveal

  Standalone

  Faking It

  Then You Happened

  Flirting with 40

  UnRaveled (Novella)

  Sweet Cheeks

  Sweet Rivalry (Novella)

  The Play Hard Series

  Hard to Handle

  Hard to Hold

  Hard to Score

  Hard to Lose

  Hard to Love

  The S.I.N. Series

  Last Resort

  On One Condition

  Final Proposal

  Holiday Novellas

  The Package

  The Detour

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2022 by K. Bromberg

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by JKB Publishing, LLC

  ISBN: 978-1-942832-42-3

  Cover design by IndieSage

  Editing by Marion Making Manuscripts

  Formatting by Champagne Book Design

  Printed in the United States of America

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  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?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sutton

  Twenty-four Hours Earlier

  “Ten o’clock tonight. Club Coquette.”

  “Stepping up in the world, are we?” I tease. Club Coquette is the place to be right now, but velvet ropes are only lifted if you know someone or are someone. “How’d you score those tickets or access or whatever it is you need to get in?”

  “I may or may not be dating one of the managers there.”

  I lift my eyebrows at something that is so Classic Lizzy. She always happens to be with the right people at the right times. She attracts good luck and good times like a magnet.

  “So . . . Come with us? It’ll be the first girls’ night out that you can make in forever.”

  “I can’t,” I whisper into my phone as I pop my head above my cubicle to make sure no one can hear me from my corner in the back of the office. Or see my grimace in response to my best friend’s question.

  I never should have answered the call. Especially not when things have been so strained between us these past few months.

  “As expected,” Lizzy murmurs and emits a resigned sigh. It sounds much like how I feel these days.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means when is the last time Clingy Clint let you out of his sight? It’s a girls’ night out for Christ’s sake. Does he own your every waking moment?”

  “Lizzy . . . That’s not it.”

  “That is it, Sutton. The prick can go out and have all the fun he wants but, not shockingly, you’re not allowed because he might suddenly need you. He can take promotions and climb the corporate ladder, and yet the minute you think about doing the same, he makes you doubt your own abilities so you turn down similar opportunities. Hell, he even helps you pick out the dresses to wear to his corporate functions, and then when you’re there, he humiliates you by publicly stating how you made the wrong choice.” She makes a sound that can only be akin to frustration as tears burn in my eyes.

  I knew I was going to regret spilling my guts out to her last month. My call to her was a moment of frustrated weakness that is now, of course, going to be used against me.

  The part of me that wants to cling to her for support gives way to my need to protect Clint and my pride.

  “I’m at work. I can’t have this conversation right now.”

  “There’s always a reason you can’t have the conversation. Always an excuse for him.” There is a pleading in her voice that I pretend not to hear. “I mean, look at you. In your work life you kick ass on the daily, and th e only thing I can gather is that it’s the one part of your life he can’t touch or influence.”

  “Lizz—”

  “I don’t mean to hurt you, but you simply can’t see it.” Her sigh is heavy when I don’t respond. “I know you love him, but this isn’t love. This is control with the obsession to tear you down just to build himself up.”

  “That’s not true,” I whisper without an ounce of conviction.

  “He has sapped every bit of that spark and personality from my best friend, and I’m not having it anymore. I’ve sat idly by for the last two years and watched you slip away as he’s pulled the strings that control you tighter and tighter, and I can’t do it anymore. I’d rather ruin our friendship by telling you the truth than by letting you become a shadow of the person I know you to be.”

  “I said I can’t do this right now.”

  And yet I don’t hang up.

  I don’t even attempt to.

  Because I know she’s right. Nothing that she’s said is news to me. In fact, they’re things I’ve told myself over and over. Things I’ve thought about late at night when he’s out, and I’m home alone. I’ve even gone so far as admitting to myself that our relationship is unhealthy. That our talks of marriage and a future are just that—talks. I know I can’t do this forever and yet . . . I’m not strong enough to walk away just yet.

  Or am I?

  The thought sucker-punches me. The truth of it knocking the wind from me as Lizzy drones on in my ear.

  Has he beaten me down that much? So much so that thoughts of how much he needs me overrides my own well-being? That his constant refrain about how he’d fall apart without me taking care of him has become more important than who is taking care of me?

  And yet I repeat the company line. “Lizzy. He needs me—”

  “Don’t you dare sit there and think he’d be devastated without you,” she starts. “He’s a grown-ass man, able to take care of himself. He has manipulated you into thinking that if you ever leave him, he’ll crumble. That’s his problem. Not yours.”