"Damn, that ass," Oliver muttered, eyes glued to Isabella as the door eased shut behind her. Then he turned toward Jacob with a grin that belonged in a damn sewer. "I bet you know how it feels," he said, voice slick with something repulsive. Jacob stiffened, the smile draining from his face.
"The question is," Oliver continued, leaning in slightly, "are you willing to share?" Jacob blinked. "Excuse me?" Oliver chuckled, completely oblivious to the shift in Jacob's posture—the tension in his shoulders, the twitch in his jaw. "I'm so glad your brother couldn't make it," Oliver went on, undeterred. "I've been craving that sexy little assistant of his for a while now. But he's always hovering—too protective, too damn uptight for a man-to-man conversation. But you… I can talk to you. I like yo
