10 Ways to Handle the Best Man (11 page)

She stretched against him, and he heard the drowsy exhalation as she yawned. Her limbs softened into him.

His cock was already stiffening again, the scent of her hair—clean, fresh and flowery—almost as arousing as the feel of her breasts pillowed on his chest. But instead of jumping her, of staking his claim, he lay there like a dummy, staring blindly at the ceiling, trying to get his heartbeat to quit punching his chest wall.

‘Do you mind if I have a nap before the next round?’ she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

‘Sure,’ he heard himself say, stupidly grateful because he needed a time out too, despite the renewed ache in his balls. ‘But after that it’s payback time.’

She huffed out a little chuckle. But eventually the circling finger stilled on his navel. The soft rise and fall of her breathing brushed the hair on his chest as her lush body relaxed into sleep.

He continued to stare at the ceiling, the fist punching his ribs now like a heavyweight champ, and his cock as hard as an iron spike.

Women didn’t generally fall asleep in his arms.

He should wake her up and fuck her again. Play out the bargain they’d made, demand her surrender, the way she’d demanded his. But he couldn’t seem to stop his fingers from raking through the fine hair at her nape, or stroking his thumb across the pulse in her neck. Breathing in her scent…

Everything he knew about himself seemed to be floating above him, just out of reach. No longer sure, no longer certain.

This night didn’t feel like it was just about the sex anymore. And that couldn’t be good.

When she woke up again, he’d get things back on track. He’d fulfil every one of the promises he’d made to her—and fuck her until they both couldn’t walk anymore. His rock-hard cock twitched as if in acknowledgement of his plan.

She sighed in her sleep, and his hand stilled on the back of her head.

But for now, it felt okay just to hold her, with the summery scent of her hair filling his senses, and the weight of her head solid on his shoulder.

‘Can you take me again? Just one more time?’

Sabrina nodded, the husky request almost drowned out by the cascading water as Connor lifted his head from her breast and hoisted her up in his arms.

Her back hit the slick tiles of the shower cubicle as he thrust heavily inside her.

She winced, the soreness a reminder of how many times he’d taken her during the night. But as her tight flesh stretched to accept him again, the ecstasy wasn’t far behind. She wrapped her legs round his lean waist, clasped his shoulders in trembling hands, and clung on as he gripped her buttocks and adjusted her hips to take the full force of his thrusts.

She cried out as he drove into her, pounding that place deep inside and angling his pelvis to rub against her aching clitoris. She gave herself up to the harsh swell of orgasm, hanging suspended, then crashing over into the abyss—as white-hot rain poured through her body like a meteor shower.

She must have passed out for a few seconds, only to be dragged back to consciousness when he pulled out, pumping his release against her belly.

His fingers dug into her hips, his breathing harsh and ragged, his head buried in her neck. The splatter of water did nothing to drown out the heavy thud of her heartbeat.

She began to shake, but swallowed down the terrifying wash of emotion, her arms tightening around his neck. Her fingers threaded into the wet hair at his nape. And she held on for a few precious moments. Waiting for her pulse to stop racing, waiting to get the raw pain in her chest under control as she watched the midmorning sunshine sparkle on the droplets of water sliding down the glass wall of the cubicle. Signalling the end of their wild night.

They’d made love so many times, she’d lost count. He’d been a magnificent lover. Broken through all her inhibitions, and shown her how glorious the physical connection could be between two people who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Unfortunately, the downside was during their long night the emotional connection that she’d been determined to deny had only gotten stronger. To the point where she’d stopped trying to guard her heart hours ago. Because it had already been a lost cause.

She knew falling in love with Connor—a man who wasn’t looking for a relationship and certainly wasn’t about to fall in love with her—was the height of stupidity. And what she was feeling was quite probably the physical equivalent of an optical illusion anyway, brought on by the adrenaline overload of their sex marathon. But unfortunately all the justifications in the world didn’t make it seem any less real.

Keeping his hand banded under her bottom, he raised his head and sent her a sheepish smile that had her pulse thundering into her throat.

Would he kiss her at last?

‘That’s what I call one for the road,’ he murmured, his lips hovering above hers, so close and yet so far—and the yearning in her chest became unbearable.

She nodded, the stupid emotion clogging her lungs again and making it hard to breathe.

Hold it together. Don’t you dare freak out.

‘I need to shower alone now.’ She forced her lips to curl. ‘We have to check out soon.’

‘Yeah. Right.’ He let her down gently. Raked his hand through his wet hair, the warm water spraying off his shoulders. His gaze dipped to her breasts. ‘You sure you don’t want any help with that?’

The grin came more naturally now, courtesy of the hopeful look in his eyes. She shook her head. ‘Get out of here, Connor.’

‘Goddamn it, you are such a ball-buster.’

She gave his shoulder a playful punch, then pointed at the door of the cubicle. ‘Out. Now.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ He sent her a cheeky salute. And left.

She reached for the soap and turned into the spray, the foolish tears mingling with the water washing over her face.

How Sabrina got through the next half an hour she didn’t know. Connor insisted she stay with him while he packed. Which involved dumping everything into his suitcase without folding a single solitary thing.

She watched him, and stopped herself from pointing out that his suits would be irrevocably crushed by the time he got home to New York. Not because she knew he probably had a hundred suits in his closet there, and wouldn’t balk at a dry-cleaning bill, but because she didn’t think she could keep the stupid tears down indefinitely.

She’d had to put her maid of honour gown back on, with no underwear, and felt more than a little self-conscious as they walked through the corridors to the mansion house’s entrance. They made weirdly polite conversation about his flight, her return to work in a week’s time for the start of a new run. And then they got to the first-floor landing—and she veered off towards her room.

But strong fingers banded around her wrist, halting her getaway.

‘Hey, where are you going?’

‘I need to get changed, and pack my own bag.’

He looked at his wristwatch. ‘The car’s picking me up in ten,’ he said.

Which was exactly why she needed to get away from him.

‘I know.’

She was fairly sure she couldn’t stand a long-drawn-out goodbye. And anyway, wasn’t this the correct etiquette for a one-night stand? You parted without ceremony the next morning? And went back to your real lives.

She’d be absolutely fine as soon as he was gone. And this ludicrous idea that she’d fallen in love with her one-night fling would fade quietly away. As would the lump of cement currently pressing against her larynx. Hopefully.

‘So I guess this is goodbye,’ she added, when he continued to hold on to her wrist, apparently not taking the hint. ‘It’s been really…’ She reached for the right word. What did you say to someone who had changed your outlook on life? Who would always mean more to you than you could ever let them know? ‘Really fun.’

‘Fun seems like kind of an understatement,’ he said, the husky tone making her nipples pinch into tight peaks—and her bare clit throb painfully.

‘Yes, well.’

He tugged on her wrist, drawing her close. ‘Stay with me.’ He cupped her cheek, the look in his eyes shuttered but intense.

Sabrina opened her mouth, her heart suddenly battering her throat. What was he asking?

‘Well, now, isn’t this touching?’

They both jerked round to see Elizabeth, his stepmother, standing on the landing behind them.

Connor stepped back, but kept his hand around her wrist. ‘Hello, Elizabeth. I’m just on my way out. I’ll see you around.’

‘Not if I have the good fortune to see you first,’ she replied, the contempt dripping from her tongue.

Sabrina sucked in a breath, horrified by the venom in her tone. But Connor merely shrugged and said through gritted teeth, ‘Nice.’ Then he turned to her. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

Maybe it was the emotion Sabrina had had on lockdown for the last ten hours, maybe it was simply physical and mental exhaustion, or maybe it was the weary resignation she saw on Connor’s face, but the hot flare of temper was quick and all-consuming as she pulled her hand out of Connor’s hold and faced his stepmother.

‘What the hell is wrong with you, you sanctimonious bitch?’

Elizabeth flinched as if she’d been struck. ‘How dare you talk to me like that,’ she said. ‘I don’t care if you are my daughter-in-law’s friend. I will not stand for that kind of language.’

The snooty, self-righteous indignation only made Sabrina’s smouldering temper ignite like a firecracker.

‘Well, how bloody dare you talk to Connor like that. What gives you the right to treat him as if he’s nothing? Just because he’s the son of a barmaid? And he lived in a trailer park,’ she shouted, stepping towards the woman, suddenly keen to get in her precious personal space.

‘Shit, Sabrina, calm the hell down.’ Connor words barely registered, but then his arms locked around her torso, stopping her dead.

‘The son of a barmaid?’ A cruel smile curved his stepmother’s lips. ‘Is that what he told you?’

Sabrina struggled to free her arms. ‘Let me go, Connor. She has no right to speak to you like that. The snobby cow.’

‘He’s not the son of a barmaid,’ Elizabeth continued, her glare aimed at Connor now. ‘He’s the son of a prostitute.’

‘What?’
Sabrina stilled, shocked not by the information, but by the way Connor stiffened behind her, and the pained emotion in his voice as he said, ‘Fuck.’

His arms dropped away.

‘You heard me,’ Elizabeth continued, warming to her theme. ‘His mother was a whore. A woman my husband hired for a night in a moment of youthful indiscretion only to end up saddled with her brat.’

‘So what?’ Sabrina felt her chest implode, her temper dissolving into horrified realisation. Was this what he’d been so ashamed of? Was this why they’d rejected him?

‘So
what?
’ Elizabeth looked momentarily nonplussed. ‘So why would anyone want the child of a prostitute in their home?’

‘Because he was your husband’s son, because he was Jamie’s brother, because…’ Sabrina trailed off, as Elizabeth stared blankly back at her as if she’d lost her marbles.

What the hell was she bothering arguing with this woman for? The only person that mattered here was Connor. She swept her hand at the woman in a dismissive gesture. ‘Oh, forget it, you’ll never understand.’

She turned to tell Connor she was sorry, that he had such a stupid cow for a stepmother. Only to find the space on the landing behind her empty.

He’d gone.

Ignoring the thundering of her heartbeat, the callous parting remark from the woman behind her, she hiked up her gown and raced down the mansion’s staircase. No way was that bitch going to ruin their last moments together.

Bugger it.

She didn’t care if it was completely nuts. She had to tell him he mattered to her. That she cared about him. Even if he threw it back in her face, which he undoubtedly would. She wanted him to know he meant more to her than just a one-night stand.

* * *

Where the hell was the fucking limo?

Connor stared down the gravel driveway that meandered miles through the manor’s parkland, willing the damn thing to appear on the horizon and quick. He needed to get the hell out of Dodge and fast. His fingers fisted around the handle of his luggage as humiliation and panic scoured his stomach.

He’d nearly spilled his guts for real on that damn landing. Nearly asked to see Sabrina again. For the first time in his life he was actually grateful to his stepmother. Hell, it would have been nice to have gotten out of here before Sabrina had discovered all the sordid details about his childhood, but the humiliation of that was small potatoes compared to the way he’d come damn close to begging moments before. He’d felt the shock rippling through her body when his stepmother had spilled the beans about his mother’s choice of profession. But knowing Sabrina and that bleeding heart of hers, she’d probably have already sugar-coated the truth.

‘Connor, wait!’

He whipped round. The churning panic in his belly rammed his throat as he watched her walking towards him in that arse-kissing gown—which had once turned him inside out with lust, but now turned him inside out with something more intense. Her hair fell in wild chestnut waves onto her bare shoulders, and her face looked flushed, her eyes bright with intent as she approached. His fingers gripped the leather strap of his bag and he forced himself to stand his ground.

He couldn’t see any pity in her expression, which he guessed was a good thing. But the dumb, pointless yearning that had gripped him all through the night, when he’d been driving into her over and over again to quench the damn thirst that never seemed to end, dried up every drop of moisture in his mouth.

His voice came out on a husky croak. ‘Hey there. Car’ll be here any minute. No need to hang with me if you’ve got stuff to do.’

Something flickered in her eyes that looked like hurt. But he steeled himself against it and swallowed down the thirst to have her again. To have more. All she’d wanted from him was a good fuck. And he’d given her a lot of those. He didn’t have anything else to give.

He turned away from her to stare down the driveway. Still no sign of the fucking car? If it didn’t get here soon, he was totally screwed.

* * *

Sabrina stared at the rigid muscles of Connor’s back as he studied the driveway as if his life depended on it. She knew when she was getting the cold shoulder.

Courage, Bree. You’re not that wimpy little vanilla girl anymore. You’re a sexy, strident ball-buster. You know what you want. And the only way to get it is to go after it.

She stepped to his side, the pebbles of the driveway cold and round against her bare feet. His free hand hung by his side and she noticed it tensing and releasing as he ignored her. She thought of all the ways those clever fingers had brought her pleasure throughout the night, but realised they’d never once held hands, just like they’d never once kissed on the lips.

The painful ache became a dead weight in her chest. If she could take only those two small intimacies away with her, it would be enough. Reaching out when his fist released, she slid her fingers across his palm and held on.

He looked down at their joined hands, then back at her face, his expression unreadable. His fingers remained loose in hers, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he didn’t pull away.

She squeezed the callused flesh. And let the wave of sympathy for the boy he’d once been crest. ‘I’m sorry your stepmother is such a narrow-minded bitch.’

He huffed out a strained laugh, but his hand tightened on hers. ‘Don’t let her get to you. She lives to mess with people’s heads—fighting with her only encourages her. Believe me, I know.’

She nodded, letting go of the last of her anger. She didn’t want it between them. Not when she had one more hurdle to jump. She followed his gaze, saw the black car cresting the hill in the distance, and knew she didn’t have long.

She tugged his hand, bringing his attention back to her. ‘Could I ask you a favour, Connor?’

His brows lifted, but his eyes remained steady on hers. ‘Sure. You can ask. Can’t say I’d be able to oblige, though.’

That was fair enough, she thought. Cagey, but fair.

Letting go of his hand, she glanced down at his suitcase. ‘Put your case down.’

‘That’s it?’

She nodded. ‘That’s part of it.’

He dropped the case, looking confused and wary…and tense.

Maybe he already suspected what she was going to ask. Was already preparing to refuse.

Too late to back out now, Bree. If he leaves you hanging, so be it.

Rising on tiptoes, she placed her hands on his cheeks, felt the rough stubble abraiding her palms, the muscle twitching in his jaw. She pulled his head down slowly, until those sensual lips that had kissed every part of her, bar one, were so close she could study the wide dip in the top lip, the small scar on his chin, the tiny creases of the laughter lines at the side of his mouth. Even though he wasn’t laughing now, his mouth a thin line of tension.

‘Can I kiss you?’

He stiffened, drew in a sharp breath, but he didn’t draw back. His gaze searched her face, and then the tension seemed to release in a rush, his warm breath fluttering over her face. And he gave the tiniest inclination of his head.

But it was enough.

Her tongue darted out and she licked the seam of his closed mouth, rejoicing in his laboured breathing, before she pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was unbearably tender, unbearably chaste at first, his hands hanging limp by his sides as she held his cheeks. Her heart thumped so hard against her ribs she was sure he could feel it battering the front of his shirt, where her breasts pressed against his chest. But she continued to lick, to coax, to taste, and waited. Waited.

And then, suddenly his breath sighed out, his mouth opened and his hands rose to clasp her cheeks and angle her head. She opened her mouth and his tongue delved at last. Exploring, tasting, devouring, in long frantic licks, like a man dying of thirst, who was glugging down his first cold drink of water in a lifetime of want.

She strained towards him, her tongue tangling with his, dancing forward and then holding back, boldly beckoning him forth. His hands strayed down to grip her shoulders, to wrap around her back and then grasp her buttocks as he clung to her, forcing the hard ridge of his erection into her belly.

But while arousal blasted through her system, where their mouths joined it felt like so much more. The connection as intense, and painful and desperate as anything she’d ever experienced. His kiss was devastating, delicious, and yet so needy and new.

Her heart blossomed, giddy with pleasure, and somehow her dazed mind, giddy with love, knew this was a first for him. He’d never kissed another woman like this before.

She dimly registered the car’s wheels crunch to a stop beside them, and then the car door slammed. She jolted in his arms, and he lifted his head at last. They both gasped for breath, their breathing ragged, as his forehead touched hers, and his hands caressed the soft skin of her spine in slow circles.

‘Fuck, you’re good at that,’ he muttered against her lips, then nipped at her bottom lip.

His fingers threaded into her hair, framing her face, as he lifted his head to gaze down. Her skin felt raw, but not as raw as the emotion rising up her throat when his knuckles skimmed across her chin. ‘I’ve marked your face. Beard burn. I should have shaved.’

Her lips tipped up, her heart swelling to bursting. ‘Branded me again, huh?’

His lips quirked in a gorgeous smile, his eyes bright with humour and something even more exhilarating. ‘I guess.’

‘Excuse me, sir. Shall I put this in the boot for you?’

Connor’s head turned at the quiet inquiry from the chauffeur, who was standing at a discreet distance. He gave his head a little shake, as if he’d forgotten where he was for a moment. ‘Yeah, great, thanks.’