The Best Man (Alpha Men 2)

“I see.”

“Do you?” she sobbed. “Because I don’t even know if I do.”

“Ssh.” He kissed her palm again. “I won’t be yet another thing for you to worry about, darling. No labels. Just this.”

He turned until he was on his back and she was straddling him, his hard shaft pulsing beneath her wet nakedness.

“Condom?” she asked, her voice wobbling with excitement. Even after everything they’d done that night, she still couldn’t get enough of him. Of this. And she had never been on top before. She was practically quivering in anticipation.

“I left a few on the nightstand,” he grunted, arching up against her. She hissed in pleasure at the contact and fumbled around in the predawn grayness until she found what she was looking for. She had him sheathed and poised for entry in moments, and when she finally sank down and accepted him into her body, they both sighed blissfully.

Nothing had ever felt more perfect.

Neither of them got any sleep after that, and about an hour and a half later, after sharing a quick and naughty shower, they left Daff’s place—Spencer to dash home for a quick change of clothes before work, and Daff heading straight for the boutique.

Despite her exhaustion, Daff couldn’t stop smiling for most of the morning. Definitely out of character for her, and she was happy that Steph, the manager in training, didn’t come in on Saturdays. She even found herself humming a couple of times, and when her phone rang at eleven and the cartoon penis flashed onto the screen, her heart did a weird little loop-the-loop in her chest.

“Hey,” she hummed.

“Do you still have me listed as the Dick in your contacts?” he asked without any preliminaries, and her smile widened.

“Yep. But I’m thinking of changing it to Mr. BAD.” No response, and she knew that Spencer, being Spencer, probably didn’t get it. So she elaborated, “Y’know? Big-Ass Dick?” He was quiet for a beat, and then he chuckled.

“Yeah?” He sounded half-embarrassed, half-flattered.

“Only the truth.”

“Well, then—” He gave another huffing little laugh, and Daff would bet decent money that he was probably blushing. He cleared his throat before changing the subject. “Just checking in to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Feeling a bit achy. You?”

“Same. I miss you.” She rolled her eyes while grinning so broadly it felt like her cheeks would split.

“Shut up. You saw me like three hours ago.”

“Too fucking long ago. Want to have lunch at MJ’s?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

“I want to order takeout from MJ’s, head to your place or mine, and not surface again till tomorrow.”

“That sounds doable.”

“Meet you there after one?”

“Yeah. Don’t know how I’m going to last that long without you.” Damn it. Why did the man have to be so freaking adorable?

“Later, Mr. BAD,” she singsonged and disconnected the call with a swipe of her thumb. After that she leaned on the counter and daydreamed about him and all the things they had done last night and would do later. The man was frighteningly addictive, but Daff had decided not to worry about that. To just enjoy this for however long it lasted. Just another leg—extremely vital—on her journey of self-discovery.

That evening, after a day of nothing but fantastic sex mixed in with periods of long conversation about everything and absolutely nothing, Daff and Spencer sat cuddled on her sofa, blindly staring at the bright images on the television screen. Daff’s head was on Spencer’s bare chest. He had very thoughtfully brought a pair of pajamas for his sleepover, of which Daff was wearing the top and Spencer the bottoms. Her legs curled over his lap, and she was more interested in his relaxed breathing and strong, reassuring heartbeat than she was in the movie on TV. She didn’t even know what it was—something with UFOs and way too much talking. She kind of resented the stupid movie, because right now Spencer seemed more interested in it than he was in Daff.

Jealous of a movie. What in the actual fuck was up with that?

It wasn’t like the man hadn’t showered his undivided attention on her all day. She had been his entire focus for hours, but Daff felt like a junkie. She discovered that she absolutely craved his every look, touch, and smile. She hoarded them and found herself recalling everything he’d said and done with absolute clarity. It wasn’t even about the sex—well, not entirely about the sex; he made her feel absolutely precious. She found his gentle and thorough lovemaking so much more appealing than anything else she’d experienced before. His reverent touches, appreciative compliments, and long, lingering kisses made her feel like a shy young girl around her first crush, yet she hadn’t felt awkward or unsure around him once today.

She snuggled closer, and his arm, which was resting casually across her shoulders, tugged her even nearer. She lifted her face and buried her nose in the nook where his neck met the strong curve of his broad shoulder. He smelled clean and faintly like lavender after using her soap in the shower. Combined with his unique masculine musk, it was almost irresistible. She planted a soft kiss in the spot, and he tilted his head until his cheek rested on top of her hair.