Unwrapping the Best Man

Pippa shakes her head. ‘What’s she got to be pissed off with you for?’

‘Where do I start?’

She grimaces and reaches for my untouched drink, slapping it down between us. ‘Want my advice? Get that in you, grow a pair, and apologise.’

‘Apologise?’

‘Yeah, every girl appreciates an apology, so long as it’s heartfelt and, knowing you, it will be.’

‘It’s that simple?’ I can’t hide my scepticism, or maybe it’s more that I know I don’t deserve Cait’s forgiveness.

She shrugs and gives the festive duo one last glance. ‘Damned if I know, but it’s gotta be worth a try.’

She gets the attention of the team behind the bar, effectively leaving me to my messed-up thoughts and I push up out of my seat, closing my laptop lid.

Apologise.

It has to be better than watching Dex as he curves his hand around her bare waist and whispers in her ear.

No, no, no.

I’m across the room in a heartbeat, my arm hooking through hers quicker than she can pull back, and I briefly spy Coco’s triumphant grin as I sail past with a fuming Cait in tow. I don’t stop until we are in my office, the door slammed shut behind us.

She rounds on me, eyes bright, skin flushed. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

I open my mouth, close it again, then open it. What am I doing?

She shoves against my chest, backing me into the door, her eyes narrowed and flaming hot, stripping me of any coherent thought. Her breasts thrust as she drags in air.

‘Have you seen yourself, Cait?’ It’s a tight growl.

She pops her hip out, her ha

nds fisted at her sides. ‘What? You don’t like it?’

‘Like?’ Christ, I can’t even breathe with her this close. Every part of me thrums with the need to reach for her, to crush my lips to hers, to fill the persistent ache of loss that’s hounded me these past four months.

‘What is it, Jackson? You don’t want me but no one else can have me? Is that what this is?’

I shake my head, but hell, she’s right, isn’t she?

She steps closer, her shoulders back, the move intentional as it thrusts her breasts ever higher and they brush against me. She tilts her chin and looks up at me, her eyes spearing mine.

‘Can’t stand the idea of someone else touching me?’ She wets her lips as her hands lift to my chest, smoothing upwards to my neck. ‘Can’t stand the idea of someone else getting to taste me?’ She raises herself up and, God help me, my head bows to bring her closer, those cherry-red lips glossed and begging to be kissed, to be nipped, to be fucked.

She cups my jaw, her thumb dragging heavily over my lower lip as I play dumb, drunk on her.

‘To fuck me?’

‘Cait...’ It chokes out of me, my fists pulsing at my sides as I fight the urge to pull her to me, to take control. I know I can’t. I lost the right when I abandoned her. When I walked out on her and betrayed our pact.

And she knows it.

She rubs her lower body against mine, teasing herself over my straining, painfully aching cock, and her smile is slow, sultry, satisfied.

‘Well, guess what, Jackson? You lost the option to have this when you fucked me and left. Maybe now you’ll understand how it felt.’

And with that she steps away and yanks on the door handle, forcing me to move out of the way and watch her go.