The Best Man (Alpha Men 2)

“No take-backsies, Spencer. My life is too damned desolate without you.”

“Daff, it’s not just me, it’s also—”

“Charlie. I know, Spence,” she reassured, reaching up to cup the side of his face with her palm. She loved the feel of his stubble abrading her skin. “You guys are a package deal. As long as she’s clear that there’s going to be a lot of embarrassing kissing and stuff in her immediate vicinity.”

He grinned.

“I’ll make sure she understands that some things are just as inevitable as the tides.”

“Why are we still talking?” Daff asked, going onto her toes to steal a kiss. “I want to ravish your gorgeous bod, Carlisle. Stop delaying the inevitable.”

He growled and grabbed her ass and hauled her up against him. Confident in his strength, she hooked her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist while he supported her butt in his palms and ate her mouth.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Spencer,” she breathed when they came up for air moments later. “And I’ve decided that I deserve you.”

He grinned shyly, that sweet smile that had so ensnared her heart, and anointed her lips with the gentlest of kisses.

“That’s my girl.”

EPILOGUE

“So last week was fun,” Sam Brand, who stood next to Lia for the bridal party picture, said into Lia’s ear, and she shot him an appalled look. How could he be bringing that up here at her sister’s wedding? Where anybody could hear him?

The ceremony had been beautiful, of course. Perfect and romantic, everything that Lia had hoped hers would be. Daisy and Mason’s vows—which they had written themselves—hadn’t left a dry eye in the crowd. Lia was happy for Daisy, but she couldn’t help but feel a stab of envy as well. If Clayton had been a better man—the right man— Lia could have been the one exchanging vows with a man who treasured her and loved her above all else. Instead, this was her sister’s wedding and Lia was saddled next to this man—who was interested in nothing but bedding her—for the duration. And he kept making excuses to touch her and breathe on her and brush against her and now he was speaking to her.

About something that he’d promised never to talk about again. The biggest—okay, maybe second biggest—mistake of Lia’s life.

“We’re not discussing this here,” she whispered from the side of her mouth. “Or ever again.”

“C’mon, Lia. I’m leaving tomorrow, and since Daisy and Mason are moving, it’s not likely you’ll ever see me again. I’m single, you’re single—”

“So help me, if you say ‘let’s mingle’—”

“Let me make you tingle,” he finished, ignoring her interruption. She gasped again, fighting back unwanted images of her stupid, drunken mistake the other night. It was completely uncharacteristic, and she was not going to repeat it. No matter how great he smelled right now, how enticing that roguish grin looked, or how mind-blowingly fantastic his body was beneath that tuxedo.

None of that mattered. Lia learned from her mistakes, and there were a lot of truly nice men here today. She glanced over at Sam Brand and caught him staring at her breasts and fought the urge to cover herself up with her hands. Lots of nice men here who were interested in more than just her boobies.

The photographer now wanted shots of just the bridal couple, and as the rest of them heaved relieved sighs and turned to walk away, Sam placed his palm in the small of her back, ostensibly to lead her through the departing group. She shuddered at the intimate warmth of his hand resting so close to her butt and tried to glare at him, but it was a bit demoralizing when you were trying to freeze a guy with a glare and he reacted by smiling.

“You’re so cute when you try to look stern, princess. You should get a pair of those half-rim glasses just so that you can glare at me over them. God, this is becoming a fully realized fetish,” he groaned in dawning self-recognition. “But I don’t even care. It’s hot. You’re hot. Let’s go somewhere and fuck.”

“You’re just so . . . ugh. The other night shouldn’t have happened,” she snapped, her voice low.

“The other night was awesome,” Sam recalled with a nostalgic smile. “I lost track—how many times did you come? Four times? Five? We could try for seven tonight. After all, I have to give you something to remember me by.”

“Mr. Brand . . .” He sighed, the first sign of annoyance he’d shown her.

“Sam. Or Brand. Just drop the ‘mister’—it’s weird when you’ve had my cock in your—”

“Oh, please stop.” She held up both hands and his mouth snapped shut. “I don’t usually sleep with strangers. It’s not who I am. I’m Dahlia McGregor. I teach Sunday school, volunteer at animal shelters, I want to be a kindergarten teacher, for crumb’s sake. I don’t have these kinds of conversations with men.”