Best Man With Benefits (McCade Brothers 3)

“Do it. I fucking dare you.”

She took the dare.

When the belt slapped his flesh, he came in his hand like a teenager jacking off to his first Playboy. Violently. Endlessly. With an intensity that left him gasping for air and grateful for the support of the wall to keep him from sinking to his knees.

When he could breathe again, he pulled the “blindfold” from around his eyes. If it hadn’t been his favorite tie before, it was now. Thankfully, he was a lot less sentimental about his underwear. He picked them up and used them to clean himself off.

Then he turned to Sophie. Her face was flushed. Her breath came in little pants. Her round eyes were all pupil. Her lips trembled apart as she stared up at him.

He took his belt from her limp fingers. “My turn, Sophie.”

…

His turn? Oh, goodness. Having Logan at her mercy, keeping him perched on a brink between pleasure and pain while he stroked himself to orgasm, had been the sexiest, most empowering thing she’d ever done. But Miss Sexy and Empowered disappeared at the thought of him turning the tables, insisting she drop her pants and stand in the corner while he spanked her like a naughty schoolgirl. Miss Uptight and Chicken took her place. Her heart tripped and skidded into her stomach. “Ah, um…” All right, she’d reverted back to being tongue-tied, but who could blame her? Logan stood there, gloriously naked and pinning her with a look that made her knees wobbly. “I have to take a rain check, because the scavenger hunt—”

He took a step toward her and her thoughts scattered like startled hens. “You decided to skip the scavenger hunt, remember?”

“I know, but now I feel bad.”

He stepped closer. “I know just how to clear your conscience. Besides, a deal’s a deal. Take off your shoes.”

Shoot. Had she really agreed to a quid pro quo? She slipped out of her shoes, and then backed up until her calves hit the bed.

“Logan, there’s a couple things you should know.” She stared at the belt dangling from his grip. “I’ve never been spanked in my life and I have a low pain tolerance.”

His laugh drew her attention back to his face. She sniffed at the amusement stamped across his unfairly handsome features and crossed her arms over chest. “Low pain tolerance is no laughing matter. If you do what you’re planning to do, I’ll probably scream.”

“There are a lot of things I plan to do to you, and yes, you probably will scream, but not because you have a low pain tolerance.” He leaned in and fiddled with the top button of her chambray shirt. “You’ll be screaming my name.

Her mouth went dry while other parts got very, very wet. He flicked the button open. Her pulse skittered. He undid the next button and looked pointedly at her crossed arms blocking his path to the next button. Oh, God, he wanted to take her shirt off…possibly all her clothes. Not an outcome she’d considered when dressing this morning. She flashed forward to a vision of her standing before him in her sturdy white bra and full coverage panties—an ensemble designed for eighteen hours of no-nonsense support, and absolutely nothing else.

“I have a request.”

“Just one?” He uncrossed her arms and lowered them to her sides.

“Yes.” She swallowed and grabbed the front of her shirt before he could reach for the next button. “Could we… That is, could you hold on one second while I close the curtains?”

“The curtains?” He glanced toward the balcony doors, then turned back to her. “Nobody can see us.”

“I know. Privacy isn’t so much the issue. It’s more of a brightness thing. I can relax better if it’s darker.”

“You don’t say.” He ran a finger over the hand she still had clasped to the front of her shirt. His touch made her realize her knuckles ached from gripping the material so tightly. A thin laugh wheezed out of her and she dropped her hand.

“Wait right here. Don’t move.” She hurried to the glass doors and drew the sheers. Not good enough. The room still offered clear visibility. She drew the blackout curtain and the heavy drapes. Better. Now the only sources of light consisted of a stingy band from the hallway coming in under the door and a thin outline glowing around the edges of the curtains.

“You get any more relaxed, I’ll have to learn Braille.”

“You think it’s too dark?”

“I can’t see a fucking thing.”

Great. He thought she was a freak, which she was, of course, but he didn’t understand because he had the body of a god. Never had he stood in a hallway at school, red-faced and near tears while jerk-wad Jeremy Needleman taunted, “Come on, shorty, show us your tits,” and all the other kids laughed. Never had he endured a girl’s locker room full of dissecting looks and behind-the-hand comments like, “She could be cute if she’d just…”

Cut it out. This trip down memory lane is not helping.

“The darkness makes it exciting and mysterious, don’t you think?”

“I’m thinking dangerous, actually.”