Best Friends With Benefits (Most Likely To)

by Candy Sloane

  Her cheeks and neck bloomed, the dress even showing off pink petals of blush at her cleavage. Fuck, how was he going to make it through dinner?

  “Oh good.” She smiled, that smile like a sexy dress her lips wore. “I put on the right thing. I was not at all sure how to wear a twenty-four-pack of Pepsi.”

  Alec’s limbs loosened from their stick-straight unease. “If anyone could figure it out, you could, but no, I meant the dress.” He took the fabric at her shoulder in between his thumb and forefinger. “Incredible,” he repeated. It was the only word that mattered.

  He expected her to turn timid at all this attention, but instead she fingered the fabric of his collar mirroring him. “I never thought I would want you to have a shirt on, but this one is changing my mind.”

  “You like it?” he asked. “It’s my symphony look. I even have a tie.” He wrestled it from the pocket of his coat. “Unfortunately, I’ve never needed to learn how to tie one.”

  Before he could ask if she thought he needed to wear it, she subtracted the small space between them and kissed him, deep and long. His hands brushed the bare skin of her arms, the silken fabric at her back as he pressed into her. He pinned her body against the closed door of their room, his lips still plunging into hers, deeper, deeper, his fingers searching for more, wanting her in that dress jousting with wanting her out of it.

  “Valerie…” He pulled back, intentionally leaving off the vixen nickname he’d given her, even though the implications of it were all he could see. “If we don’t go to dinner soon, I’m going to end up throwing you inside that room and hanging this on our doorknob.” He held up the tie.

  “Who needs dinner?” she whispered. “I still need to thank you for the dress and for today.”

  Fuck, he was tempted. More than tempted, but sex could wait. If they only had one night left, he wanted to take her out on as real a date as he could muster. That was more important.

  More important than your cock pounding into her with that dress pushed up around her waist? His abdomen wailed and his cock howled for her. But it fucking was.

  “I want to take my time with you,” he said, not giving away his real reasons for attending the dinner, along with sharing a blistering truth. “No interruptions and no itinerary crap hanging over us—just my lips and your soft, yearning skin and hours and hours to explore every bit of it.”

  She swallowed. Her eyes were immersed in fire like two comets. “I guess we should eat. Sounds like I’m going to be using up a lot of calories.”

  He reached for her hand, and they headed toward the elevators. He kept himself in the farthest corner, while she stood in the middle. The blistering heat inside that metal box was like a comet itself, set to shoot them into the depths of their desire if he even looked at her too long.

  The doors thankfully opened onto the lobby.

  “I hope we’re not overdressed,” Val said.

  He’d managed to keep his hands off of her on the trip down, but it was a struggle, and with her words a new one emerged: Alec wanting to tell her any time you wear clothes you are overdressed.

  The itinerary had said cocktail attire. Alec had no idea what that meant. To him cocktail attire was a flask.

  “You look so amazing,” he said instead, “people are going to want to go upstairs and change.”

  She gave his hand a squeeze. Her skin was radiant against black, but the color was only a part of the equation, the rest was all Valerie.

  The ballroom was filling up when they arrived. Even without Reece’s military precision pressing his classmates on, people had found places to sit and gotten drinks all on their own.

  The tables were decorated with bouquets of flowers and candles. He glanced around for Gideon and when he couldn’t find him, led Val to where Cynthia was already sitting along with Jacob Riedel and some of their band friends.

  “I wondered if you guys were going to join us,” Cynthia whispered to Alec as they hit the table.

  “We almost didn’t,” he admitted, pulling out a chair for Valerie.

  The thrum of desire hit him once again as he got a view of the back of Valerie in that dress—her milky shoulders, the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck, her ass. He fought against the erection threatening.

  He could make it through dinner with all these people, but not with a boner.

  The waiter came around and filled their empty glasses with water and white wine. Alec was never a wine guy, but he was going to stay away from the hard stuff tonight. Keep clear of what he usually used to numb. He wanted to be fully alert for Valerie.

  “This is like the prom I never had,” Valerie said.

  “With alcohol,” Cynthia observed, holding up her wineglass.

  Valerie’s remark brought Alec back to their prom night. She’d said she hadn’t wanted to go anyway when no one asked her, and Alec didn’t have the balls at the time to be the one to ask. The two of them spent prom night in Valerie’s living room watching movies, nothing special, except for the fact he’d actually gone in the front door of her house. At least they’d been together. Her skin had been pale in the TV-made blue-white light, her eyes as dark as universes when she looked at him. She seemed to be waiting for something, maybe waiting for more.

  Or had that been an illusion? When he’d tried to offer her more by asking her to go to New York, she’d said no. But was that because the more he’d tried to offer was too much? The more she might have wanted was just a kiss, a touch, a glance—a more that could have built into the more he had asked for if he’d just been patient.

  “Wine isn’t alcohol,” Alec replied.

  Jacob laughed. “But it does do in a pinch, doesn’t it, dude?” He lifted his glass and clinked with Alec’s.

  Alec took a long drink. He supposed it did.

  The waiters deposited plates in front of them. It had been a choice of steak, chicken, or pasta. Alec had ordered steak weeks ago. Val had ordered the pasta. She speared a piece and studied it closely before giving it a wary bite. Her eyes wandered to Alec’s plate.

  “You want some?” he asked, his mouth unintentionally full. He couldn’t take Val looking at anything longingly and not being able to partake if he could help it.

  That was never happening again.

  “No, I don’t eat steak,” she replied firmly.

  He swallowed what was in his mouth, took a palate-cleansing sip of wine. “You look like you want to eat steak.”

  Her eyes flickered. “I can never fool you, can I?”

  He cut off a small slab and dropped it on her plate. “Why would you want to?”

  She tried to work her butter knife into the steak.

  “Besides, everyone knows not to order the pasta. It’s for vegetarians and I’m pretty sure most chefs make it with disdain.”

  “What are you, like, a cooking expert after this morning?” Having no luck with her butter knife, she lifted the steak to her mouth and bit at it.

  “Were my eggs better than that pasta?”

  Grease slicked Val’s lips. “You know they were, Julia.”

  He leaned in to the sweet floral smell of Val. That juxtaposed against the animal hunger of her gnawing at steak made him hot for her all over again. He moved his lips to her ear. “Call me that all you want, I’ll be her in the kitchen as long as I’m the name you’re screaming out in the bedroom.”

  Her eyes widened then focused in desire. “How am I supposed to make it through dessert?”

  “How about we screw dessert?”

  She pressed her chest into his arm. “Or just screw.”

  …

  Alec’s eyes were all fire. He slipped a hand over hers. He looked so hot all cleaned up and classy. His brown hair was slicked back and his suit jacket made his chest even broader. The thought of unbuttoning his powder blue dress shirt, slowly exposing his bad boy tattoos underneath, forced her to squirm in her seat to soothe the ache.

  How long would it take him to pull her the hell out of there? She was happy to be he
re with Cynthia and Jacob—way to go, Cynthia!—and Alec, of course. She loved being in the dress he bought for her, but she would much rather be out of it.

  He started to help her to her feet when feedback filled the room. Reece was up on stage, tapping at a microphone in front of her. “Dinner is over, karaoke is next,” she said, walking off the stage quickly.

  Apparently Valerie and Alec hadn’t totally ruined her. Though it was clear she was saying only what she needed to say. At least that meant Reece would stay the hell away from her. Though she was pretty sure she could take anything Reece flung at her in this dress.

  “Karaoke,” Cynthia said with a smile. “You have to sing, Alec.”

  He glanced at Valerie. “No one wants the rock star to upstage them.”

  “I do,” Jacob said. “I’d bet everyone in here does.”

  Alec hesitated. “I think we are going to take off.”

  “No,” Cynthia said, “sing at least one song. You can wait one song, right Val?”

  She’d waited this long, she could make it through a song. Valerie put her hand on Alec’s. “Go do what you do best.”

  He rose from the table and pressed his lips to her ear. “Ten minutes and we can go do the other thing I do best,” he whispered, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

  After all their hidden lust that weekend and their denied lust that evening, you’d think a swipe of his lips would feel like nothing, but that small, sweet gesture caused her heart to rise and throb—made her squirm in her seat again.

  Cynthia met her eyes, raised an eyebrow.

  Val shrugged, though it must have been clear there was a wash of pink all over her bare shoulders.

  Alec joined a clump of their classmates who were already signing up for songs. Valerie didn’t have to be in earshot to know they were all pushing him to go first. He whispered something to the DJ and headed up on stage. He situated himself in the center, hung his suit jacket on the microphone stand, and grabbed the mic.

  “Hey everyone.” His voice came through the speakers.

  The room erupted in hoots and screams.

  “I don’t usually sing karaoke, but if I’m going to, I figured I should sing a song I used to sing a long time ago. A song that means something to me, that means something to someone who means something to me.”

  Someone who means something to me?

  Tiny bubbles formed and popped like champagne was poured all over Valerie’s skin. She wasn’t sure what song was going to come out of his mouth, but there was no doubt, it was for her.

  She watched Alec on stage through blurry eyes, a thrumming heart. It only took her four notes to recognize the song. “Every Breath You Take.” Alec’s eyes fell on Valerie as words she couldn’t believe she was hearing sprang from his mouth.

  Oh can’t you see, you belong to me. How my poor heart aches, with every step you take.

  She’d heard him practice this song so many times when they were in high school. She’d given him pointers on tempo and the timbre of his voice, but this version was by far her favorite. For the first time ever he was singing this song to her. For the first time ever she heard those words in her heart.

  The last lines burst out of him and he stepped back from the mic with a slight bow.

  Valerie stood and clapped, trying to keep her welling eyes in check while the room around her erupted, too. Alec stepped off the stage and she ran to him.

  They both stood for a moment in the roar of their classmate’s applause as the next singer took the stage. She thought Alec might say something, but instead he watched her, waited for her.

  She understood it was because it was her turn to admit what they both knew.

  What was happening between them was real.

  “Alec…” she finally said, but no other words would come. She was overwhelmed and of course while he’d sung those words, while she knew they were meant for her, he hadn’t said them yet.

  “Not as good as my guitar version, but I figured it would do.” His eyes went soft. “Val, I…” he started, trailing off in the same way she had.

  “I think it’s time to get out of here,” she said, leading him from the ballroom.

  When they hit the hallway he stopped, his eyes intensifying to a blazing brown as he pulled her into an embrace so fierce it knocked the breath from her. She met his kiss, surpassed it—poured all her feelings into their gnawing, greedy lips. There were more things they would need to say to each other, but for now their kiss was enough.

  A kiss she knew had nothing to do with rules, or expectation, or confusion, was everything in that moment.

  They kissed furiously. Her hands played with the buttons on his shirt, his fingers trailed along her bare shoulders, and their bodies molded closer, closer. A molten heat rose that neither one could stop, until something struck Valerie, something familiar about this whole night.

  “Hold on. You’re Pretty Woman-ing me, aren’t you?” She glanced up at him. “The expensive dress you bought me, the note, it’s just like the movie,” she insisted with barely a breath between her words.

  Alec’s face was suspiciously blank. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “And singing me a karaoke song was just like the piano scene!” Her voice rose in emphasis.

  The small space between them was crackling with heat. “I don’t need to follow a script to woo you, Valerie, but if you insist, what happens after the piano scene again?”

  Oh, she knew exactly what happened and damn if she didn’t wish she had a piano. But she did have an empty ballroom. She pushed open the door to the room closest to them. “I am not going to make it upstairs.”

  “I’m not going to make it five more seconds.”

  They stepped inside. It was an exact replica of the ballroom where the dinner was held with one important difference—it was completely bare.

  “Let’s finish the scene,” he said, pulling her across the wooden dance floor toward the stage.

  They climbed up onto it, and she pressed into him. “Is your concert over, or do I get an encore?”

  He smoothed a finger along the skin of her arm. “My audience gets whatever she wants.”

  “Okay then,” she said as she led him backstage.

  It was set up the same as any she’d been in—a small corridor with wires and controls for the sound and lights. It felt the same, too, a place of endless anticipation, and she realized that was who she became when she was with Alec—anything could happen, anything would happen.

  She hung her hands around his neck and he pinned her against the wall. He played with the zipper at the center of her back. “I want to take my time with you, Valerie, but my encore requires getting you out of that dress and once I do, nothing is going to stop me until I have you skin to skin screaming your throat raw.”

  She wanted that, oh wow, did she want that.

  “We have plenty of time to take our time.” She stepped back from him. “I think right now I’d like you to start your encore.” Whether he knew it or not, she was still clapping for him between her thighs.

  His eyes raked over her face. “I like the sound of that.” He lowered her zipper. The dress fell at her feet. A strapless black lace bustier, matching lace panties, sheer thigh highs, and her heels were all that was left in its wake.

  “And fuck,” he breathed, “I really like the look of that. You are beautiful.” He kissed along her neck. “Valerie.”

  While she loved the sound of her name on his lips, the way he said it like a song, she craved more.

  “You’re not calling me Dirty Girl.” She wanted the words, the call, the primal need they engulfed her in.

  “I thought I should call you Valerie now, since we’re not just fucking,” he explained.

  Her finger played along the length of his jaw. “We may have taken the word just away, but we are most definitely fucking.”

  His hands fell to her hips and he grasped her, his hard, hot dick letting her know whether he called her it or not, she was his Dirty G
irl.

  She wanted to be both the woman he knew and the one he now craved. She took both sides of his shirt in her hands and ripped, several buttons popping off and falling to the floor like pieces of candy. “I didn’t think you’d ever wear that again anyway.”

  A groan spilled from his lips almost as forcefully as his eyes swept over her, all over her. His chest heaved under his partially opened shirt, his tattoos screamed over his skin. His eyes were as dark as coal. “Dirty Girl, are you going to be able to handle the fuck that’s coming to you after that?” He played with the delicate hairs at the nape of her neck as he cuffed his hand and pulled her mouth closer. His erection seared at her thigh.

  She met his waiting embrace. “Only one way to find out.”

  His lips were a blush away from hers. “If you insist on that nickname,” he said, “I’m going to make you earn it.”

  The heat in her cheeks traveled down to her abdomen and lower, flooding her, leaving her already wet panties sopping. “I haven’t yet?”

  He ran a finger down the side of the bodice, slowly tracing every curve. “We’ve barely gotten started.” His hand advanced to her neck, over her collarbone, exploring the swell of her cleavage. “Turn around, put your hands against the wall, and spread your legs.”

  The sternness of his voice caused her lip to quiver, her stomach to twitch, but she didn’t move.

  His eyes bore into hers, as unrelenting as his expression. “At the beginning of this weekend I had to promise you an orgasm. I’m about to give you the most intense one of your life.”

  The possibility in those words was all the push she needed. She spun to face the wall and lay her hands against it. He forced a leg in between hers and pushed her ass up in the air. A finger met the zipper running down the spine of her bodice. He didn’t unzip it, just scratched his nail along it. The sound, the touch making her legs tremble.

  “Dirty Girl, you waiting for me like that, dressed like a pinup girl, has me so worked up I can barely stand it.”

  She made herself remember to breathe, her heart rate increasing because she couldn’t see him. She could only feel him. His light-as-a-whisper fingers and his breath and his words, oh, those wicked words.