Best Man with Benefits

“I thought you were gunning for the best man,” Christine said.

“Logan,” Sophie offered, grateful for the chance to put the question of “dibs” to rest, once and for all. “Yeah, what about that?”

“I’d love to indulge all your curiosities, but I believe we’re running late—”

“So you’re not going for Logan?” Regan asked. “Nice. Best man’s back on the market.” She flexed her fingers and winked. “Game on.”

What? No, no, no. Logan was…well…not “hers”—she wasn’t smoking crack—but not up for grabs either.

Before she’d had a full second to get depressed over the prospect of watching Logan fall like a bowling pin under the force of Regan’s allure, Kady pushed two scavenger hunt lists at her. “Would you wait for Logan, Soph? I don’t want him to get here and have no idea what’s going on.”

She was still trying to stammer out a plausible reason why she couldn’t when everyone headed out for the hunt. Resigned to her fate, she trudged back to the lobby, over to her quiet, out-of-the-way seat in the corner, and kept an eye on the elevators. And waited. And stewed in her own juices like a rotisserie chicken.

Regan wanted Logan, and she came across as the kind of girl who generally got what she wanted. The kind of girl who didn’t mumble, “Um, sure, no problem,” when the man she was about to have sex with checked his phone and suddenly realized he needed to take care of some supposedly urgent business. She would have made sure business was the last thing on his mind.

Was he attracted to Regan? Stupid question. He was a breathing heterosexual male, so obviously, yes. Equally obvious, he wasn’t particularly attracted to her, considering how quickly he’d applied the brakes this morning, shifted gears, and sped out the door. A nasty voice in the back of her mind piped up, sounding suspiciously like her mother. Wake up, Sophie. There was no big crisis requiring his attention. He just latched onto work as an excuse to get the heck out of your room without flat-out telling you, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Humiliation flamed through her, followed by a back draft of indignity. No, he hadn’t asked for…what she’d done to him that morning…but if he really wasn’t interested in her, why focus all of his charm on her last night? Why snuggle up next to her in bed? He’d made her want him, and he dang well knew it. A man as experienced as Logan had to have known she’d wake thinking she actually had a shot at him. Did he get some perverse charge out of throwing a bone—no pun intended—to the homely girl? The whole thing was just too cruel, especially since as soon as Regan arched one perfectly shaped brow his way, he was going to come running and Sophie Brooks might as well cease to exist.

She stood, crumpled the stupid scavenger hunt lists into a ball, and marched to the elevators. If he wanted to be with Regan so badly, he could start by tracking down his new girlfriend all on his own. Lord knows she couldn’t have gotten far in those heels she’d been wearing.

Sophie looked down at her sensible brown trail shoes. Unlike Regan’s, these shoes did not whisper, “We look good down here, but we’d look even better crossed behind your neck.” Hers said, “We’re sturdy. Walk all over us.” Well, guess what? She was done being walked all over.

The elevator doors opened and she strode forward, only to bounce off six feet one inch of strapping male, cloaked in a heather-gray raglan shirt tucked haphazardly into well-worn jeans. An all-too-familiar voice said, “Whoa Turbo, where are you running off to? The scavenger hunt is this way.” Two strong hands curled around her upper arms.

Logan. She knew without looking up. Good thing, too, because looking up proved to be a challenge. Something about the silver of his belt buckle and the white striations around the front pockets of his jeans drew her attention like a magnet. Vivid sensory memories of what lay beneath a handful of metal buttons sprang to mind. The suede-and-steel texture of him. His scent. His taste. Her mouth watered, and an insidious heat burned its way through her body to settle uncomfortably between her thighs.

An equally insidious heat flared in her chest and stormed into her cheeks, but she recognized the source as anger and welcomed the burn. She raised her head to tell him he could shove his scavenger hunt were the sun didn’t shine, but found him looking down at her, one eyebrow cocked knowingly. “See something you like, Sophie?”

She brushed past him and got in the elevator. “Here’s your scavenger hunt list. Have fun.” She threw the balled-up paper through the closing doors and had the satisfaction of seeing it hit him in chest. He caught it on the bounce and looked up in time to give her a glimpse of his baffled expression before the doors shut.

Okay, she might have come off a little crazy just then. Technically, he didn’t yet know he’d ditched her for Regan. And the last thing she wanted was to give anyone, especially him, the idea she cared one way or the other whom he hooked up with. Staring at his crotch like a sex-starved nymphomaniac, throwing a paper ball at him, and stomping off probably didn’t say, “I’m totally cool.” The thing to do, she decided as the bell dinged signaling her floor, was to avoid him from now on.

Digging her card key from the pocket of her khakis, she stepped out of the elevator—and straight into six feet one inch of strapping male. Slightly sweaty, hard-breathing, strapping male. She blinked, not quite sure she could trust her eyes, but Logan didn’t disappear, so she asked the only question that came to mind. “How did you get here?”

“Stairs.”

“Six flights?”

“Yep.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a minute to catch his breath. “Why?”

“Because I want to know what crawled up your ass. Earlier you showed me the kind of good morning that actually makes me happy I’m awake. Now you chuck a list at me, tell me to ‘Have fun,’ and run back to your room. Correct me if I’m wrong, but all I’ve done this whole time is…” He trailed off and shook his head. “…breathe. So I can’t figure out what pissed you off.”

“I’m not pissed off. Seriously, don’t give me another thought. Just go on about your day.” She waved her hand through the air like a magician. “You’re absolved of any need to spend time with me.” Head high, she pivoted and walked down the hall toward her room.

He fell into step beside her. “Ah. I know what your problem is.”

Smug. He sounded smug. “I don’t have a problem.”

“You do. You’re all pent-up and frustrated because you didn’t get yours this morning.”

“Of all the stupid, egotistical…I won’t dignify that with an answer.” The only thing worse than his accusation was admitting to herself it was true. The unfulfilled woman inside her—the one he’d left hanging this morning—yearned to back him up against the wall, tug his clothes off, and do the things she’d whipped herself into a frenzy thinking about during her shower. “Besides, what makes you think I didn’t ‘get mine’ this morning, after you left?’

He aimed a panty-melting look at her. “Self-service?”

“Maybe.” She sniffed and ordered herself not to blush.

“Based on your mood, I’d have to say you didn’t do it right. The least I can do is help you take care of things correctly. I know just what you need.”

She stopped, glanced around to make sure no guests or housekeeping staff hovered near enough to overhear their ridiculous conversation. Luckily, the hallway was completely clear. “You don’t know anything about my needs.”

He smoothed his thumb over her lower lip and she had to lock her jaw to stop her impulsive tongue from darting out to taste him. “You need me to strip you naked, bend you over my bed, and slide my cock inside you until you forget what

it feels like not to have me filling you. And once you’ve come so hard you can’t stand, you need me to flip you around, hike your legs over my shoulders, and do it again, head-on, until you scream loud enough to have management banging on the door. The only open question left in my mind is the order.”

His lips tightened into a cocky grin. “Since you’re the one who’s all hot and bothered, I’ll let you decide.”

“I am not hot and bothered.” She was. So hot and bothered from picturing him handling her the way he’d described, she wasn’t sure her legs would support her if she attempted to storm away.

Logan stepped closer, effectively trapping her between the wall and his rangy frame, and stared into her eyes. “You are very hot.” His taunting gaze promised all kinds of wickedness, and then he brushed his chest against her breasts, scraping her tight nipples. His smile deepened at her quick inhale. “And you are extremely bothered.”

“That’s because you’re bothering me,” she shot back. “It’s like you’re deliberately trying to mess with me, and it’s making me mad.” She pushed his shoulder. Of course it was like pushing a mountain. He didn’t budge.

Instead, he brought his mouth level with hers. “Naughty of me, isn’t it?”

Her eyes dropped to his lips. “Yes.”

“You’d like to teach me a lesson, wouldn’t you?” He leaned in until just a few millimeters separated them.

Her lips turned raw and tingly, just like a few other noteworthy areas. She drew in a quick breath through her mouth. “Yes.”

“My room’s right down the hall.”

“Don’t tempt me. And don’t toy with me. I’m not here for your amusement.”

“Come on, Soph. I dare you.” Then he bit her raw, tingly lower lip, and every other raw, tingly part of her clamored for the same treatment.

“You dare me?” The inherent challenge in those three little words drove her to show him that being shy didn’t make her a complete chicken.

“You heard me.” He bit her upper lip, and her world tilted on its axis. She grabbed hold of the front of his shirt to be sure she stayed upright.