The Best Man (Alpha Men 2)

A few short minutes later, an upstairs light switched on, then another, and she could hear, even above the thundering rain, the sound of him cursing roundly at the interruption of his sleep. The door unbolted, and her breath hitched in her throat as she grasped that he probably hadn’t even had a chance to drag on a robe to cover his nudity. Again she pictured his naked chest and thighs, and that anticipation zipped along her nerves in addition to the anxiety already bubbling there as a result of this insane move. This wasn’t the behavior of a rational person, she knew that . . . but she didn’t know what else to do. She had to make him understand that she was sorry . . . that she . . .

The door was yanked open, and she gaped at the hulking figure silhouetted there in absolute shock.

“P-pajamas,” she heard herself stuttering like an idiot. Yes, there he stood, this big, sexy beast of a man, resplendent in his flannel pajamas. Plaid, red-and-black pajamas. They were buttoned all the way up to his throat. Only his hands, face, and large feet were naked.

It was . . . unexpected, to say the least. And Daff’s throat went dry as she discovered that reality—this buttoned-down image that was nothing close to what she’d been picturing for days—was so much better than her imagination. He looked absolutely, unexpectedly gorgeous. He’d cut his hair since dinner, she noted regretfully, before immediately wanting to run her fingers through the newly shorn, inch-long locks.

“Daff, what the fuck?” She came back to reality with a bump as she jerked out of her lustful haze to remember that she was dripping in the man’s doorway.

“I—I wanted to t-tell you . . .” Her teeth were chattering, and she couldn’t tell if it was because she was nervous or cold. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Spencer. It’s that I like you too much. I think I’ve always liked you too much. And that t-terrifies me. I don’t want to like you. Not when I’m just starting to like myself.”

He looked confused and a little alarmed.

“Jesus, have you been drinking? Come in, for Christ’s sake, it’s freezing and you’re turning blue.” He dragged her over the threshold and grabbed a huge coat from the coatrack to drape around her shivering body. He then ran his hands vigorously up and down her arms, returning some of the sensation she hadn’t even known she had lost, before enfolding her in his arms and enveloping her in his delicious warmth. She sighed and cuddled closer, only vaguely aware that she was getting his sexy pajamas wet.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“Oh darling, you’re a complete mess,” he murmured into her hair, and her eyes filled with tears at both the words and the old-timey endearment. Of course Spencer would use an endearment like darling—it was exactly like him and it made her feel treasured.

“I am.” She nodded with a wet sniff, and he sighed.

“You are what?”

Your darling.

“A mess. And I didn’t mean to drag you into my mess. I just wanted to tell you something.”

“That you like me?” he said on a questioning lilt.

“And something else.” He lifted his head at that and looked down at her, his striking, savage face much too close to hers.

“What?” he asked curiously.

“This.” She went onto her toes and lifted her lips to his, wanting so very desperately to taste the full lower curve of that beautiful mouth. He jerked, her move obviously surprising him, but then he sighed and deepened the kiss. His lips firming beneath hers and taking charge. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb lovingly tracing the curve of her jawline as he changed the angle of her head to allow him better access to her mouth.

The kiss was . . . everything. More than everything. All those other mediocre kisses—those immature fumblings by inadequate men who could never be the measure of this one perfect man—they had all led to this moment here. Now. With him. His mouth was fire . . . ice . . . elemental, and his tongue, when it finally teased its way inside, was like sunshine casting light over all the dark stains on her soul.

Her arms came up, wrapped around his neck, her hands burrowing through the hair she had fantasized about stroking just moments ago. She felt his hands moving up to her arms, encircling, tightening, and then . . . pushing her away.

She sobbed and tried to burrow back into his warmth, but he kept her firmly at arm’s length, his delicious, stern mouth much too far away.

“Please . . .” she moaned, and he shook his head. His chest heaving with each breath, clearly as affected by their embrace as she had been.