10 Ways to Handle the Best Man (4 page)

‘You need to learn to unwind, sweetheart. And I’m just the guy for the job.’

Sabrina’s head whipped round at the mocking words, still dazed by the aching heat in her clitoris—and the blood thundering in her ears.

‘Are you completely fucking insane?’ she whispered, grateful to discover after a frantic glance round the table that no one but Libby seemed to have spotted their indiscretion.

‘I’m insane to fuck you. Does that count?’

‘You’re…? What…?’

For Chrissake, breathe.

She hauled air into her lungs, trying to still her galloping heartbeat before she had a heart attack.

‘You’re a ball-buster, Sabrina.’ He shrugged. ‘I find that one hell of a turn-on.’

The gruff admission sounded like an endearment. Which was probably why her heart did a foolish little flip-flop. But the rush of pleasure didn’t last long.

He’d insulted her. She wasn’t a ball-buster—not by any stretch of the imagination. Connor McCoy only thought she was, because he was probably accustomed to instant surrender from every woman he touched—with those mind-altering magic fingers of his.

‘I know just how to unleash all the passion you’ve got on lockdown,’ he added.

She stared at his mesmerising face, buffeted by the giddy rush of heat. And the thought that the passion wasn’t locked up nearly as tight as she’d like.

‘We’re not talking about this,’ she said, struggling to find solid ground again. ‘What just happened was a mistake. It isn’t going to happen again.’

‘You sure about that?’

She crossed her legs, hoping to relieve the pulsing ache for release still throbbing in her clitoris. ‘Yes.’

He lifted his elbows onto the table, steepled his fingers and pressed his thumbs against his lips. ‘Really? Despite all the evidence to the contrary?’

Her lungs seized, the throbbing ache increasing tenfold. Were those her juices she could see on his thumb, glistening in the candlelight? And mocking her.

He licked at his thumb. And she squirmed, sure she could feel the rough swipe of his tongue drawing across her labia. She drew in a sharp breath and caught the musky hint of her own arousal above the aroma of chocolate and brandy and coffee.

He winked—a sinfully sexy grin lifting his lips.

‘I can make you come so hard and so long,’ he said, the playful tone belied by the intensity of that pure azure gaze. ‘You’ll be begging me to stop for real.’

Sabrina gave her head a little shake, having fixated on the growled words
hard
and
long
. ‘I’m begging you to stop now. I’m not interested in having a relationship with you.’

‘Well hell, that’s sure kicked my ego into touch.’ The sexy smile took on an arrogant tilt. ‘FYI, Sabrina, I
never
use the R word, not even as a joke.’

‘Great. Then we clearly have nothing left to discuss,’ she said, struggling not to acknowledge the tiny spurt of disappointment.

‘We’ve got tons of stuff to discuss.’

‘Such as?’

‘Such as, what your safeword’s gonna be.’

Whoa! What the fuck?

His lips twitched at her reaction, so she tried to haul her jaw off the floor. But her eyebrows refused point-blank to return from her hairline.

‘You mean you’re…?’ She hesitated.

Spit it out, for God’s sake, before he figures out how vanilla you actually are.

‘You’re into BDSM?’

His lips tilted into the crooked smile she’d once found boyishly appealing. It didn’t look remotely boyish now.

‘I’m not a sadist. But I like to dominate.’ His lips quirked some more, making it clear he did not consider this a weird or even remotely kinky conversation. ‘And you’ve got a really exceptional ass that I’ve been itching to spank for a while now. Which means a safeword is gonna be kind of essential.’

Her exceptional ass twitched.

Bloody hell.

He wanted to spank her. Like the actress in Libby and Jamie’s ski cabin. The image of which had been really hot—in her imagination. But only in her imagination. So where was that nuclear-powered tingling sensation in her bum coming from?

‘Why would I need a safeword? Aren’t women allowed to say no to you?’

‘Sure. But when things get hot…’ He paused, and she thought of how hot they’d already gotten. ‘A safeword’s better. Then we’re clear.’

‘Exactly what would you want to do?’ she asked, the flutter of anticipation under her breastbone getting harder and harder to ignore. ‘Because I’m pretty sure I’m not into pain.’

Good lord, was she actually considering getting sweet-talked into having demeaning, kinky sex with Connor McCoy on the basis of one almost-orgasm?

Well, okay, one really spectacular almost-orgasm. In fact, her best almost-orgasm ever. There was that.

‘Only pretty sure? That sounds like something to explore.’ He chuckled. ‘Don’t worry—the safeword will guarantee we don’t go over your pain limits.’

Pain limits? Holy shit.

This was starting to go way beyond what she would be comfortable discussing with Libby after a truckload of tequila slammers—let alone with Connor McCoy in a crowded restaurant, stone-cold sober….

So why were all her nerve endings getting high on the illicit tingling? And why couldn’t she seem to forget the glorious feeling moments before, when her body had been about to fly off into the cosmos—under the command of his magic fingers?

* * *

Connor adjusted his raging cock, grateful for the loose-fitting suit pants, as he observed tiny frown lines furrow Sabrina’s brow while she considered his proposal.

Her bottom lip curled up under her teeth and a groan of frustration rumbled up his chest. He gulped it down, drawing air into his lungs—to kick-start his brain.

Back off. Don’t push too hard tonight.

He shouldn’t have baited Sabrina when they’d gotten here, and he certainly shouldn’t have touched her. But once he’d caught Elizabeth giving him her ‘you’re trash’ look from across the table, the contempt rolling off his stepmother in waves had brought all the old anger and resentment and powerlessness surging back.

And the urge to prod and poke and push at someone had been inevitable. The woman sitting beside him had just been an easy target. But then everything had gone straight to hell in a handbasket—and Elizabeth and her evil eye had been the least of his troubles.

Because instead of being stuck-up or uptight or full of herself, his dinner companion had been sharp and witty and responsive.

Way too damn responsive.

Her pupils had dilated, her breathing had accelerated and those full lips had trembled—while he slid his fingertips up her smooth skin, and absorbed the quiver of reaction in the toned muscles of her thigh.

He breathed in the aroma of coffee and that sultry perfume she wore, recalling the scent of her arousal as his fingers plunged into her damp sex. And concentrated on getting an iron-hard grip on the painful swelling in his pants.

He wanted Sabrina Millard, but on his terms—and without that shit from his past shadowing a single second. She was a gift he hadn’t expected. Smart and ballsy and sexy as hell. A gift that could help keep him sane during the family reunion from hell. A gift he would have more than enough time to unwrap in the luxury suite he’d booked for the night at Grantley Manor—where Jamie’s wedding was taking place in five days’ time.

It had been years since any woman had excited him and challenged him and intrigued him the way this woman did. And he intended to savour the experience—but only in a purely physical sense.

His swollen cock jerked in protest as Sabrina’s tongue flicked out to moisten her bottom lip, and he noted the flicker of fascination and excitement in the mossy green of her eyes. He finally had Sabrina where he’d wanted her for five years. Alert and eager and open to the possibilities, that shield of aloof superiority shattering.

He wasn’t about to blow the chance to smash the damn thing to smithereens by pushing too soon.

‘Do you think…’ she began, her voice a smoky purr of hesitation—which was all the more arousing, because he knew it wasn’t deliberate. ‘I could consider it?’

What’s your safeword?

Sabrina stared at the text message that had popped up on her smart phone from an unknown recipient. Except the recipient wasn’t unknown. Not to her throbbing clitoris anyway. Especially as she’d been anticipating this contact for two days now—and had all but given up hope.

She glanced up the aisle of the pretty little country church in Grantley Meadows, and spotted the vicar still deep in conversation with Jamie and Libby about their preferred wording for the ceremony.

Sabrina hesitated as she gazed at Connor’s message again. So he was actually serious about finishing what they’d started. She tapped out an answer, her fingers shaking as if she were preparing to bungee jump into a ravine.

Can u please show some respect? I happen to be busy at the church rehearsal you refused to go to. Fulfilling my duties as the MOH, unlike a best man I could mention. Who is anything but!

There, that ought to do show him that she wasn’t a pushover. And that she hadn’t been climbing the walls waiting for him to contact her for two solid days ever since they’d gone their separate ways after the rehearsal dinner, when he’d informed her that he wouldn’t be attending the church rehearsal, and she, in a moment of insanity, had agreed to consider his offer of hot sex for one night only. Her foot tapped in nervous anticipation as she awaited a reply.

The speech bubble on the other side of the screen appeared two seconds later.

Safe WORD. Not WORDS. That’s way too many. Your gorgeous ass would be red hot by the time you got all that out.

A staggered laugh popped out—and proceeded to echo round the church’s stone walls like a mission bell. She peeked down the aisle to find Libby and Jamie and the vicar, not to mention both groomsmen and the three bridesmaids, all staring her way.

She waved, blushing furiously, but was surprised to discover she didn’t feel as guilty as she probably should. ‘I definitely think the vows work better without obey,’ she shouted down the aisle. ‘Stop being such a Neanderthal, Jamie. It doesn’t suit you.’

The groomsmen laughed—and she breathed out—turning her attention back to the cheeky bugger who was harassing her by instant messaging.

She clicked on the iPhone’s keypad function to respond. Clearly, polite and superior wasn’t going to work with Connor. Luckily she knew how to play dirty. When she had to.

Bugger. Off. Are those enough WORDS for you?

She pressed Send, exhilarated by her provocative response. She didn’t usually swear and text. But when you were dealing with a guy like Connor who had no respect for social niceties…

Then his reply appeared.

Still one word 2 many. Who the hell taught u 2 count? & Bugger can B misinterpreted. BTW, any objections to anal play I should know about?

Anal play?
Her breathing seized to a halt. But before she had time to reply, another dialogue box showed on his side of the screen.

Consider yourself PUNKED, sweetheart. So how hot r your cheeks right now? On a scale of 1 to 10?

Punked?
Did that mean he’d been joking about the ‘anal play’?

‘You complete sod,’ she murmured, relief reinflating her lungs before she passed out. She typed furiously, somehow managing to spell and reoxygenate her brain all at the same time.

Very funny. Unfortunately, I’m not laughing, because I’ve gone into cardiac arrest.

His response took less than ten seconds to appear.

All the way to 11, huh? OK, we’ll shelve anal for this booty call.

She sucked in a breath, not entirely sure if he was joking again. Then let it out. No need to debate Connor’s sense of humour—or his affinity for anal play. There wasn’t going to be an opportunity for any more booty calls after the night of the wedding because he was flying back to New York the next day. She’d checked Connor’s flight schedule with Jamie, just to be sure.

If she was going to risk having a wild, inappropriate fling with Connor McCoy, she wanted to make sure there was no chance of her getting in too deep.

Thnx, that’s big of u, but I haven’t made a decision about whether I want to go ahead with THIS booty call yet.

Time to slow him down a little. She needed to make an informed, sensible decision and sexting wasn’t helping. Because Connor’s playful side only made him more irresistible.

Give me a break. U made your decision when I had my fingers on that stiff little clit. Now pick a safeword, or I’ll pick one 4 u.

She glared at the reply. So much for his bloody playful side. Then another dialogue box popped up on his side of the screen and she glared at her phone hard enough to melt the damn SIM card.

How about PantsOnFire? That fits on a number of levels.

She texted back, indignation staining her cheeks.

STOP bullying me!

Then STOP kidding yourself. You’re primed and ready & you know it. MORE than ready. But the safeword comes B4 u do. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.

Her fingers stilled on the phone. He’d given her the opt-out clause she’d been looking for. She could end this right here, right now. After a quick grope in a restaurant and some playful sexting. No harm done.

But as soon as the thought entered her head, she knew she wasn’t going to do it. She wanted what he was offering. The chance to be a purely sexual being, to fly out of her comfort zone and experience the wild, heady thrill she’d been on the verge of at the rehearsal dinner. For one night only. She owed it to herself—and her stiff little clit.

Yes, Connor McCoy was an unknown entity—a man with dark passions that he had no qualms about pursuing. But wasn’t that all part of his attraction? And so far, he hadn’t done anything that she hadn’t enjoyed. A lot.

Plus there was no danger of her falling for him, however much she might enjoy flirting and sexting—and eventually even shagging him. They weren’t friends—which meant they could never be lovers. Not in the true sense of the word.

OK, I want 2 take it. But I have some questions first.

Three question marks popped up in reply. Simple, honest and direct. Just like Connor. Her heartbeat ticked into her throat, the anticipation, the thrill of the forbidden making her giddy.

Do all the women u sleep with need to have a safeword?

It was a personal question, one she wasn’t sure she had a right to ask.

No. But U do.

She frowned, vaguely insulted by the instant response. How much of a coward did he think she was? Did he think she wasn’t sexually adventurous enough to handle him? Like his legion of other women? And exactly how many other women were there? Surely she had a right to know?

I wasn’t talking about me. I want 2 know about the other women you’ve slept with. EG: 1) How many of them r there? (ballpark figure will do) 2) Do u always dominate? 3) Y?

1. No comment 2. Yes 3. It’s HOT

Frustration tightened her throat. He hadn’t answered a single one of her damn questions. Time to play hardball.

Y No Comment? R there so many u can’t remember the number?

The ten-second delay for a response had her holding her breath.

I remember just fine…But I want 2 have sex with u, not hire u 2 write my biography. & FYI you’re the only woman I’m sleeping with ATM. If u EVER pick a damn safeword, that is!!!!!

From the number of exclamation marks, she got the definite impression she was frustrating him.
Well, same goes, buster.
Her exhilaration increased until it was all but cutting off her air supply.

How about DICKHEAD?? That seems appropriate ATM!!!

She relished the rich spurt of adrenaline as she hit Send—and the accelerated tingling in her bottom at the thought that she’d provoked him deliberately. And she was actually looking forward not just to his response, but to the tantalising retribution he might devise.

Jeez, was she secretly as kinky as he was?

DICKHEAD it is. But I’m gonna make u eat that particular safeword @ sum point 2 keep that potty mouth of yours busy. U have been WARNED.

A wave of heat crested at the thought of sucking off his awesome cock—while on her knees, in her maid of honour gown—promptly followed by a wave of mortification.

Bloody hell, if she wasn’t as kinky as him, she soon would be if she wasn’t very careful.

Another message flashed up on his side.

Gotta go. Hard-ons R bad 4 business meetings. C u @ the church on Sat. & remember. No panties allowed under that ass-kissing gown…. Or u will B punished.

Trembling fingers stabbed out a reply.

Punished? How?

That’s 4 me to know & u to wet your panties wondering about. Later. C.

Moist heat flooded into her knickers on cue.

‘For God’s sake, Bree, stop texting the bloody caterers again and come here. We need your input.’

Sabrina buried the iPhone back in her bag at Libby’s pained shout—disguising the evidence before her best friend found out the canapé order was the least of her worries ATM.