Best Man With Benefits (McCade Brothers 3)

The muscles holding her smile in place gave out. “That’s different.” Feeling unduly exposed, she pulled her legs up, crossed them, and arranged the big robe so not even her toes stuck out.

Logan dropped his feet to the floor and leaned toward her, forearms resting on his knees, the champagne bottle dangling from his fingers. “Why?”

She picked at the ragged cuticle on her thumb. “You know why.”

He touched her leg, pulling her attention back to him—his patient eyes and slightly baffled grin. “No. I don’t. I know you’re shy, and I can extrapolate from that you don’t enjoy the spotlight, but it’s not as if you’ll be at the front of the church all by yourself. Colt and Kady will be there. Tyler, Reed, Brock, me, the bridesmaids—”

“The other bridesmaids make being up there worse, not better.” As soon as the admission left her lips, she wanted to crawl under the blankets and die.

Logan blinked and ran his palm over the back of his neck. “Um…you lost me.”

Of course she had, because she was a freak and he was Mr. Perfect. He’d probably never had an insecure thought in his life—never worried about suffering by comparison. But right now Mr. Perfect’s obtuseness worked her very last nerve. Or maybe the alcohol loosened her tongue.

She grabbed the bottle from him and took long, defiant drink. “Oh, come on, Logan. Four girls standing in a line, wearing the same blasted dress, while the entire church plays a real-life version of ‘Who Wore It Best?’ How would that possibly make me, the short, chubby, awkward girl, feel less self-conscious?”

He moved over to the bed and sat beside her. “You’re not chubby.”

“Thanks.” She pulled her legs up under her and twisted so she could look at him. A giddy part of her brain piped in with, Good lord, Logan McCade is sitting in bed with you. Start the seduction now. Say something hot! “That still leaves short and awkward.” Fail.

“You are short. I’m not going to lie to you. But the awkward is all in your head. Anyway”—he crossed his long legs and faced her, smiling the sexy smile that put the groove in his cheek—“cut me some slack. My mind is still reeling from what you just told me. I had no idea I signed up for the Pageant of the Groomsmen when I agreed to be Colt’s best man.”

She leaned closer to try and hit him with a smoldering gaze, and then had to grab the bedspread to keep from toppling over. “It’s not like that for guys, and you know it.”

He took the bottle back. “I don’t know anything anymore. You’ve upset my entire perception of the world with your insights into the secret thoughts of wedding guests. What if, while I’m standing there trying to be the best man, the guests are thinking Reed’s got better shoulders than me, and Brock’s got better hair, and Tyler’s got a better ass?” He drank deeply, and she suspected he was trying to finish the bottle so she didn’t drink anymore.

“Nobody’s going to think that.”

“Have you seen Tyler’s ass?” He buried his head in his hand and sighed dramatically. “I can’t compete with that. Not now that I realize everyone has come to judge us rather than to enjoy a time-honored tradition—not to mention a host bar—and wish the happy couple well.”

She whacked him on the knee, and he raised his head and grinned at her. The grin looked a little bit off-center and it occurred to her maybe he was feeling the champagne,

too, and the late hour.

“All right.” An answering smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Point taken.” Was she especially smiley tonight? Maybe, but her facial muscles seemed to have a mind of their own. It took too much effort to control them, or her eyelids, which kept drifting down. “I didn’t say my self-consciousness came from a rational or logical place.” She paused to yawn, and belatedly remembered to cover her mouth, because, after all, she was trying to seduce the man, not bray at him like a donkey. “Deep down I understand the only important thing is Colt and Kady feeling the love from their friends and family on their big day.”

The lure of the pillows could no longer be ignored. Would he pick up on the invitation if she leaned back and made herself comfortable? Only one way to find out. She settled into the fluffy backstop. Okay, it might have been more of a flop, but being horizontal felt so good she snuggled deeper. Her eyelids drooped again. The rest of the room faded until all she could see was Logan, sitting there, smiling down at her like an unbelievably good dream. “People probably aren’t going to notice me at all. I should get over myself.”

You should get over him—all over him—right now. This is your chance, don’t blow it. She wouldn’t. She’d make her big move…in a second. Just as soon as she worked up the energy to open her eyes…

…

Sophie really wanted to get off the bike, but no matter which way she shifted, the seat seemed to be right there, lodged in an extremely personal place. Weird thing was, she didn’t even own a bicycle.

She squirmed, and a low, very male, very sleepy groan filled her ear. The noise cleared her dream-fogged mind quicker than the loudest alarm. She forced her eyes open and, for a few disorienting moments, stared at an unfamiliar nightstand, in an unfamiliar room, where an unfamiliar digital clock reflected 10:30 a.m. in rude red digits. Then memory flooded back. Beaver Creek, Colt’s pre-wedding wine-and-dine, too much champagne, and…Logan. A heavy arm flopped over her side and tightened, holding her against a wall of muscle pressed along every inch of her back and something hard and insistent poking her backside.

Sweet heaven, Logan McCade was asleep behind her—his deep, even breaths assured her he was still asleep—and, by all accounts, having a good dream. He scooted closer. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as the enormity of the situation became even more apparent. A really good dream.

Bashful or no, she couldn’t shy away from this temptation. She held her breath, and then slowly, carefully, started to turn so she could look at him. He mumbled something and rolled onto his back, freeing her from the weight of his arm. Helpful.

She completed the turn and took a moment to inhale the morning “man” scent coming off his warm skin. Then she propped her head on her hand and looked down at him. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed. Her fingers itched to trace the outline of his lips, to detour along his raspy jaw, over his chin, and down to the softer, smoother skin of his throat.

She lowered her eyes to see what came next, and momentarily lost her breath. His robe had come undone, and presented her with an uninterrupted view of every majestic inch of him. All the lines and planes of his chest, the rugged terrain of his abs, and the long, smooth, proudly jutting part of him that had prodded her right out of dreamland. She swallowed to try to ease the dryness in her throat. He was just so…perfect.

A wild, reckless voice in her head said, Go for it, and the next thing she knew, she was licking the shallow gully bisecting his chest. It led to the first horizontal cut of his abdomen, and then the next, and the next, like a thrilling little roller coaster. She knew she should stop, but her tongue had other ideas, and kept dragging her down, down, down his body.

Chapter Five

Logan smiled to himself and complimented the limbic system of his brain for treating him to best dream he’d had in ages. First Sophie had been rubbing her lusciously round backside over his lap, teasing his cock to attention. Now she was kissing and licking her way down his body, taking a quick detour around his navel, and then continuing on an unswerving mission to her final destination.