Best Man With Benefits

by Samanthe Beck

  “I mean, it’s my perfume. It’s got”—her voice trailed off as he kissed the sliver of skin revealed between the folds of her robe—“uh, vanilla, I think, and sugar, or maybe honey. I’m not sure. It’s new.”

  “Hmm. Did you spray some here?” He licked the soft skin between her breasts. Her sharp inhale had his cock twitching.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Nice. Here, too?” He dipped his head and brushed his lips over her fluttering abdomen.

  “No. I, ah…oh gracious…” She paused and swallowed audibly when he grazed his teeth over the yielding flesh.

  “Really? The scent seems stronger here.”

  “I sprayed the places I thought you might have your nose closest to. My neck, my chest, and my…um…well…”

  “Sophie?” He slipped his hand into the folds of her robe and wriggled his way between her knees.

  “What?” The single word came out pitchy as he slid his fingertips along her smooth skin of her inner thigh, closing in on the apex.

  “Did you spray…here?” But before he could reach the spot in question, a familiar, insistent vibrating noise went off right by his ear. It took him a moment to realize it came from her.

  “Oops. I totally forgot.” She pulled his phone out of the pocket of her robe and offered it to him. “This was on the counter in the bathroom. I think someone’s been trying to get a hold of you.”

  A reckless, rebellious part of him wanted to chuck the damn thing off the balcony, but the responsible CEO inside him tamped down the urge. Instead he took the slim white device and looked at the screen.

  Twelve voicemails. Fifty-seven emails, and bonus, the chairman of the board was texting him like a thirteen-year-old girl alone at the mall. For fuck’s sake, had the world gone to hell in a handbasket while he’d been enjoying the most gratifying wake-up call he’d had in God only knew how long?

  The headache he’d warded off last night crept back and all traces of his hard-on disappeared. He dropped the phone onto the bed, rubbed his temple, and stood.

  “Problem?” she asked quietly as she took a step back. She didn’t sound nervous now. Only concerned.

  “Apparently.” He exhaled, rubbed the back of his neck where a knot of tension formed, and glanced at her. “I’m sorry, Sophie, but I have to go. There’s something important going down at work, and I need to return some calls right away.” Jesus, he sounded like a self-important jerk.

  She took another step back and re-secured the tie on her robe. “Oh, well, sure. I understand. Will I, or, that is, will we see you at the scavenger hunt this afternoon?”

  “Yes. Definitely,” he said with more confidence than he felt, and then strode into the bathroom where he’d hung his wet clothes last night. “But I might be a few minutes late. Will you tell Colt and Kady I’ll be along as soon as I can?” He hung the robe on the hook behind the door, grabbed his briefs off the shower rod and pulled them on, grimacing at the still-damp cotton. Thankfully, he’d only be in them long enough to get a new room key from the front desk.

  “Of course. Don’t you want to shower or anything?”

  “No time.” He hauled on his shorts, and then pulled his shirt over his head. “I’ve got to get going.”

  “Okay.” She stepped aside as he headed out of the bathroom. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

  He stopped at the door, turned and looked her in the eye. “Count on it.”

  …

  Sophie was late. Her shower had taken longer than she’d planned, because she’d kept imagining Logan in there with her, running his soap-slick hands over her. Washing her breasts…thoroughly…before moving around to her back, sending sudsy trails down her spine, over her butt, and then sliding those talented hands along her stomach and between her legs. At some point she’d closed her eyes and entered the world of make-believe, where her hands became his. Her body had bought into the fantasy—hook, line, and sinker. It had helped alleviate some of the frustration brought on by his sudden, incredibly disappointing departure. Some, but not all.

  “Sophie?”

  Surprise jolted through her body at the sound of a low, male voice calling her name, and she nearly stumbled over her own feet. She took a moment to push her extremely embarrassing shower thoughts out of her mind, and then turned and smiled at Tyler. She didn’t stop, but walked backward facing him, and forced a breezy note into her voice. “If it isn’t my future brother-in-law himself, in the flesh. You’re late.”

  “So are you,” he pointed out, and took a bite of his blueberry muffin. Her mouth watered at the forbidden carb. “And you’re going to run into something if you don’t turn around.”

  “Yes, father.” She rolled her eyes and spun around the right way, falling into step beside him. “I lost track of time. You?”

  He grinned. “I kind of slept in.”

  She checked the time on her phone. “I’d say so. Rough night?”

  “You could say that,” he muttered, and she got the distinct feeling all was not right in Tyler’s world. Remembering the looks he and Christine had exchanged at the party the first night, she figured she might know the source of his irritation.

  “You enjoying yourself so far?” he asked. “Fitting in with the girls, causing trouble, and breaking hearts along the way?”

  That was her…Sophie Brooks, Trouble Causer and Heartbreaker. She lifted a shoulder and gave him what felt like a weak smile. “A girl never tells. How about you? Fitting in with the girls?”

  He snorted. “Oh yeah. You know it.”

  “Is that why you slept in? Were you fitting in with one a little bit too late?”

  Tyler pointed his muffin at her. “That’s enough of that talk, little sister.”

  Little sister? She couldn’t quite hold her brow down. “I’m not your little sister.”

  “Might as well be after this wedding.”

  She laughed. “I think I’ll pass. I heard how protective of the girls you are.”

  “Who told you that? Let me guess. Kady?”

  Sophie merely smiled and scanned the crowd in front of them. When she caught sight of Kady standing with the other bridesmaids, she waved good-bye to Tyler and headed toward the bride-to-be.

  She squeezed in next to Kady and whispered that her bridesmaid’s dress was back safe and sound. With one ear, she caught Regan teasing Julie for assaulting Reed with the kind of scorching look Sophie normally only encountered in the pictures and video clips decorating the Eve’s Closet website. Her knee-jerk reaction to that piece of news was relief. If Julie had eyes for Reed, she probably wasn’t still fixated on Logan.

  She spared a glance at Reed, saw him staking a claim to Julie from several feet away, and was shocked to realize he’d fallen for Miss Sunshine. He was Colt’s friend, not hers, but she’d spent enough summers tagging along with them to know Reed had a dark side—and exactly where it came from. None of those guys had a modest bone in their bodies, but there were weeks when Reed would always swim with a shirt on. Stretches of time when he wouldn’t come around at all, and then he’d finally show up with a faded bruise on his jaw, or a puffy eye. She’d overhead enough angry comments from her dad about Reed’s, usually laced with terms like “worthless drunk.”

  Julie offered an unconvincing denial to Regan, and tried to pretend the palpable chemistry in the air didn’t exist, but Sophie read the tension hidden in every line of Reed’s not-so-casual stance. Maybe the match wasn’t completely counterintuitive. He’d had enough darkness in his life. He deserved some sunshine, and Julie practically radiated warmth.

  “No, she’s right,” Sophie said. “I’ve only been here a couple minutes, but it was long enough to recognize first class eye-fuckery.”

  Christine and Regan gave her shocked, it-can-speak stares, and then broke into laughter. What the heck. She knew eye-fuckery when she saw it, even if only from the internet. Besides, it could be Julie needed a bad boy, if the steamy glances she cast Reed’s way when she thought nobody was looking offered any in
dication. Sometimes, apparently, opposites really did attract.

  Julie turned her pretty blue eyes to Sophie and lifted one blond brow. “Sophie, I don’t want to speak too soon, but I think you’re starting to come out of your shell.”

  She shrugged. This wasn’t about her shell, and she wasn’t so easily distracted. “So…you and Reed?” she asked Julie.

  “I thought you were gunning for the best man,” Christine said.

  “Logan,” Sophie offered, grateful for the chance to put the question of “dibs” to rest, once and for all. “Yeah, what about that?”

  “I’d love to indulge all your curiosities, but I believe we’re running late—”

  “So you’re not going for Logan?” Regan asked. “Nice. Best man’s back on the market.” She flexed her fingers and winked. “Game on.”

  What? No, no, no. Logan was…well…not “hers”—she wasn’t smoking crack—but not up for grabs either.

  Before she’d had a full second to get depressed over the prospect of watching Logan fall like a bowling pin under the force of Regan’s allure, Kady pushed two scavenger hunt lists at her. “Would you wait for Logan, Soph? I don’t want him to get here and have no idea what’s going on.”

  She was still trying to stammer out a plausible reason why she couldn’t when everyone headed out for the hunt. Resigned to her fate, she trudged back to the lobby, over to her quiet, out-of-the-way seat in the corner, and kept an eye on the elevators. And waited. And stewed in her own juices like a rotisserie chicken.

  Regan wanted Logan, and she came across as the kind of girl who generally got what she wanted. The kind of girl who didn’t mumble, “Um, sure, no problem,” when the man she was about to have sex with checked his phone and suddenly realized he needed to take care of some supposedly urgent business. She would have made sure business was the last thing on his mind.

  Was he attracted to Regan? Stupid question. He was a breathing heterosexual male, so obviously, yes. Equally obvious, he wasn’t particularly attracted to her, considering how quickly he’d applied the brakes this morning, shifted gears, and sped out the door. A nasty voice in the back of her mind piped up, sounding suspiciously like her mother. Wake up, Sophie. There was no big crisis requiring his attention. He just latched onto work as an excuse to get the heck out of your room without flat-out telling you, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  Humiliation flamed through her, followed by a back draft of indignity. No, he hadn’t asked for…what she’d done to him that morning…but if he really wasn’t interested in her, why focus all of his charm on her last night? Why snuggle up next to her in bed? He’d made her want him, and he dang well knew it. A man as experienced as Logan had to have known she’d wake thinking she actually had a shot at him. Did he get some perverse charge out of throwing a bone—no pun intended—to the homely girl? The whole thing was just too cruel, especially since as soon as Regan arched one perfectly shaped brow his way, he was going to come running and Sophie Brooks might as well cease to exist.

  She stood, crumpled the stupid scavenger hunt lists into a ball, and marched to the elevators. If he wanted to be with Regan so badly, he could start by tracking down his new girlfriend all on his own. Lord knows she couldn’t have gotten far in those heels she’d been wearing.

  Sophie looked down at her sensible brown trail shoes. Unlike Regan’s, these shoes did not whisper, “We look good down here, but we’d look even better crossed behind your neck.” Hers said, “We’re sturdy. Walk all over us.” Well, guess what? She was done being walked all over.

  The elevator doors opened and she strode forward, only to bounce off six feet one inch of strapping male, cloaked in a heather-gray raglan shirt tucked haphazardly into well-worn jeans. An all-too-familiar voice said, “Whoa Turbo, where are you running off to? The scavenger hunt is this way.” Two strong hands curled around her upper arms.

  Logan. She knew without looking up. Good thing, too, because looking up proved to be a challenge. Something about the silver of his belt buckle and the white striations around the front pockets of his jeans drew her attention like a magnet. Vivid sensory memories of what lay beneath a handful of metal buttons sprang to mind. The suede-and-steel texture of him. His scent. His taste. Her mouth watered, and an insidious heat burned its way through her body to settle uncomfortably between her thighs.

  An equally insidious heat flared in her chest and stormed into her cheeks, but she recognized the source as anger and welcomed the burn. She raised her head to tell him he could shove his scavenger hunt were the sun didn’t shine, but found him looking down at her, one eyebrow cocked knowingly. “See something you like, Sophie?”

  She brushed past him and got in the elevator. “Here’s your scavenger hunt list. Have fun.” She threw the balled-up paper through the closing doors and had the satisfaction of seeing it hit him in chest. He caught it on the bounce and looked up in time to give her a glimpse of his baffled expression before the doors shut.

  Okay, she might have come off a little crazy just then. Technically, he didn’t yet know he’d ditched her for Regan. And the last thing she wanted was to give anyone, especially him, the idea she cared one way or the other whom he hooked up with. Staring at his crotch like a sex-starved nymphomaniac, throwing a paper ball at him, and stomping off probably didn’t say, “I’m totally cool.” The thing to do, she decided as the bell dinged signaling her floor, was to avoid him from now on.

  Digging her card key from the pocket of her khakis, she stepped out of the elevator—and straight into six feet one inch of strapping male. Slightly sweaty, hard-breathing, strapping male. She blinked, not quite sure she could trust her eyes, but Logan didn’t disappear, so she asked the only question that came to mind. “How did you get here?”

  “Stairs.”

  “Six flights?”

  “Yep.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a minute to catch his breath. “Why?”

  “Because I want to know what crawled up your ass. Earlier you showed me the kind of good morning that actually makes me happy I’m awake. Now you chuck a list at me, tell me to ‘Have fun,’ and run back to your room. Correct me if I’m wrong, but all I’ve done this whole time is…” He trailed off and shook his head. “…breathe. So I can’t figure out what pissed you off.”

  “I’m not pissed off. Seriously, don’t give me another thought. Just go on about your day.” She waved her hand through the air like a magician. “You’re absolved of any need to spend time with me.” Head high, she pivoted and walked down the hall toward her room.

  He fell into step beside her. “Ah. I know what your problem is.”

  Smug. He sounded smug. “I don’t have a problem.”

  “You do. You’re all pent-up and frustrated because you didn’t get yours this morning.”

  “Of all the stupid, egotistical…I won’t dignify that with an answer.” The only thing worse than his accusation was admitting to herself it was true. The unfulfilled woman inside her—the one he’d left hanging this morning—yearned to back him up against the wall, tug his clothes off, and do the things she’d whipped herself into a frenzy thinking about during her shower. “Besides, what makes you think I didn’t ‘get mine’ this morning, after you left?’

  He aimed a panty-melting look at her. “Self-service?”

  “Maybe.” She sniffed and ordered herself not to blush.

  “Based on your mood, I’d have to say you didn’t do it right. The least I can do is help you take care of things correctly. I know just what you need.”

  She stopped, glanced around to make sure no guests or housekeeping staff hovered near enough to overhear their ridiculous conversation. Luckily, the hallway was completely clear. “You don’t know anything about my needs.”

  He smoothed his thumb over her lower lip and she had to lock her jaw to stop her impulsive tongue from darting out to taste him. “You need me to strip you naked, bend you over my bed, and slide my cock inside you until you forget what
it feels like not to have me filling you. And once you’ve come so hard you can’t stand, you need me to flip you around, hike your legs over my shoulders, and do it again, head-on, until you scream loud enough to have management banging on the door. The only open question left in my mind is the order.”

  His lips tightened into a cocky grin. “Since you’re the one who’s all hot and bothered, I’ll let you decide.”

  “I am not hot and bothered.” She was. So hot and bothered from picturing him handling her the way he’d described, she wasn’t sure her legs would support her if she attempted to storm away.

  Logan stepped closer, effectively trapping her between the wall and his rangy frame, and stared into her eyes. “You are very hot.” His taunting gaze promised all kinds of wickedness, and then he brushed his chest against her breasts, scraping her tight nipples. His smile deepened at her quick inhale. “And you are extremely bothered.”

  “That’s because you’re bothering me,” she shot back. “It’s like you’re deliberately trying to mess with me, and it’s making me mad.” She pushed his shoulder. Of course it was like pushing a mountain. He didn’t budge.

  Instead, he brought his mouth level with hers. “Naughty of me, isn’t it?”

  Her eyes dropped to his lips. “Yes.”

  “You’d like to teach me a lesson, wouldn’t you?” He leaned in until just a few millimeters separated them.

  Her lips turned raw and tingly, just like a few other noteworthy areas. She drew in a quick breath through her mouth. “Yes.”

  “My room’s right down the hall.”

  “Don’t tempt me. And don’t toy with me. I’m not here for your amusement.”

  “Come on, Soph. I dare you.” Then he bit her raw, tingly lower lip, and every other raw, tingly part of her clamored for the same treatment.

  “You dare me?” The inherent challenge in those three little words drove her to show him that being shy didn’t make her a complete chicken.

  “You heard me.” He bit her upper lip, and her world tilted on its axis. She grabbed hold of the front of his shirt to be sure she stayed upright.