Best Man With Benefits (McCade Brothers 3)

He reached around her and took the condom from the counter. She closed her eyes and concentrated on rubbing herself along his shaft, using little motions to try to relieve the need. The movements felt awkward—probably looked awkward—but for once in her life she was too caught up in the experience to spare much concern for appearances. She was close…so close.

The sound of the foil packet ripping should have warned her she was about to be abandoned, but when he pulled away, she choked on a scream of frustration. She stood there with her arms braced, her legs parted, panting like she’d just stepped off the treadmill, while he took his sweet time rolling the condom on. When he finally came up behind her again, she jumped like he’d zapped her with a live wire.

“Shh. Relax. Keep your eyes open, Sophie.”

“Oh, God, Logan. Please…” She forced her eyes open and met his gaze in the mirror.

“Don’t look at me. Look at yourself.”

She did as he asked, and watched her mouth fall open and her skin flush pink as he guided himself between her legs, parting them so he could ease in. But he stopped much too soon, giving her only his wide, smooth tip while her body pleaded to be stretched and filled.

She pursed her lips together to hold back a sob and arched her back to coax him deeper, but he put his hands on her hips and held her still. Greedy interior muscles quivered and clenched impatiently, and her sob turned into a tortured moan.

“Look in the mirror. Tell me what you see.”

“I see…” A stranger. An uninhibited woman chasing fulfillment without apology or hesitation.

He brought his hand around front and cupped her between her legs. Her whole body jerked as the tension coiled almost painfully tight.

“Tell me.”

“Oh, God. Logan, I don’t know…”

His quick, ruthless fingers danced up, down, and around the tight bundle of nerves at the center of her universe, circling…grazing, but never giving her the exquisite relief of full contact. Meanwhile he teased her from behind, barely penetrating while she clutched and squirmed for more. “You do know. Say it.”

She shook her head and caught their reflection in the glass shower enclosure. Was that woman really her? The one leaning over the counter with her back in such a deep, graceful arch her breasts actually appeared taut and upswept in profile? Her waist looked long and impossibly narrow. The pose forced her onto her tiptoes, which made her butt look high and perfectly curved to fit in the chiseled cradle of Logan’s lap. His big, strong hand gripped her hip, and made her thigh seem ridiculously slim. She wore a slightly agonized expression she couldn’t remember ever seeing on her own face, but the woman staring back at her could have graced the banner of the Eve’s Closet landing page. The sight made her straining muscles tremble. “I look—” She couldn’t utter the words, so she resorted to begging. “Please. I’m so close, it’s painful. I can’t stand anymore…I need—”

“You need to say it.” He wrapped his arm high around her torso, creating a shelf to support her heaving breasts. “Say the words and I’ll take away the pain.”

The dark-haired vixen in the mirror had a mind of her own. She whispered, “I’m beautiful.”

Logan drove into her—deep and relentless—and the agony splintered into a million points of sharp, shimmering pleasure. Her head lolled forward and she made a high-pitched, inarticulate noise as the room spun. And still he continued thrusting like he wouldn’t be satisfied until every atom in her body scattered like dust.

“Say. It. Again.” The slap of their bodies slamming together punctuated each word. Her arms trembled from the strain of holding herself up, and she struggled to get command of her vocal cords.

“I’m beautiful,” she bit out, and threw her head back to watch as he lifted her hips, changed the angle, and plunged again—eyes closed, jaw clenched, his face a mask of concentration.

“Again,” he rasped. “Say it.” He tugged her hips back a little more, forcing her into a deeper bend, and thrust once…twice… She screamed as the first soul-racking convulsion shook her, followed by another, and another, in waves so fast and devastating she couldn’t get ahead of them.

His head tipped back; his fingers dug into her hips. Every muscle in his body went taut. “I want to hear you scream the words as I come.”

“I-I’m—” She couldn’t catch her breath.

“Beautiful,” he finished for her, and she watched in helpless awe as his big, solid body shuddered under the force of his orgasm. For the first time in her life, she felt like the words might just be true.

Chapter Seven

Sophie focused on her reflection in the big mirror before her. Red-faced, sweaty, panting so hard her lungs might explode any second. Not a pretty sight.

Were all gym designers sadists? Or was there some rule dictating that a huge, unforgiving mirror hang on the wall in front of the treadmills?

Having only herself for scenery always made a workout harder. This morning particularly, she really didn’t need an added challenge. Her body already protested every step of her three-mile run. Several long-ignored muscle groups ached from the workout Logan had given her last night. All the clenching and flexing and straining had left her stomach and thighs sore, and between her legs…goodness…she felt as if the least little touch might send her into a blinding orgasm. Would her hyperactive nerve endings ever calm down?

You should hope not.

The naughty thought brought a smile to her face, but her amusement died away as she remembered how she’d slunk out of Logan’s room in the wee hours of the morning. An old Sophie move through-and-through, but when she’d woken up in the middle of the night, she’d quickly found herself drowning in a sea of doubt about her behavior. Sure¸ he’d given her the wildest, most amazing, and far most orgasmic night of her life, but the same probably couldn’t be said for him. What if he woke up and stared at her with a mix of disgust and remorse?

Not likely. He didn’t seem the least bit disgusted or remorseful last night.