Page 53 of Best Man Speaking

“And I’m a bad one?” I ask, not nearly offended.

I pull a foil packet from the wallet in my back pocket.

“Obviously, but if it feels good enough, I’ll be happy to participate more than once,” she replies with a sweet voice and wicked eyes.

Chapter Fifteen

Hallie

My heart is pounding in my chest, the sound attempting, if not completely succeeding, to block out the thoughts swirling within my mind. Thoughts that have me questioning my sanity and wondering if my sense of self-preservation is somehow malfunctioning.

Marcus’s eyes are ravenous as they take me in, and I’m forever grateful that my mouth enjoys talking enough that it’s able to banter without a whole lot of intellectual input.

Because there’s nothing intellectual happening here right now.

“Do I need to check the expiration date on that thing?” I ask blithely, gesturing to the foil pack in his hand.

In reality, I’m just buying time for my brain to catch up with what I’m about to do in case I need to change my mind and back out.

The first time I’d had sex was with this man. Notably, the first time I’d had my heart broken was by the same fool a day later.

It’s not an experience I’m interested in revisiting.

“Yes, preferably with your teeth and on your knees,” he replies just as nonchalantly.

My devious heart squeezes in recognition at one sharp-tongued fiend meeting another.

His words do nothing other than put me at ease because this is just us.

It’s just sex—physical and biting and coming with a built-in end date. There can be no betrayal, no broken heart.

It’s perfect.

“You’re the worst,” I reply.

The grin on my face is in complete opposition to the words leaving my mouth. I might love sharp, biting words, but it’s not often I want them to cause harm. Except with Marcus, and even then, more and more, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

I can’t tell you who moves first, but as our lips touch again, I’m certain that it really doesn’t matter. His skin is hot where it touches mine, his lips supple and warm. My breasts press against him as we move in sync, one of his hands knotted in my hair, the other stroking along the side of my jaw.

We break away momentarily as if to check that, yes, this is still happening.

Marcus tugs me gently as if to head toward the bedroom, but that’s not what I want. It’s perfect here, the mess of the past scattered around us on the floor, and beds are a rule-breaker.

I resist his pull, instead stepping back toward the couch, and he doesn’t falter in following me down. His jeans are still on, belt unbuckled, top button popped open. I’d wanted the level of undress to be equal, but before I can say a word, he silences me with a kiss, our tongues twining.

My ass barely touches the cushions before Marcus has me on my back, the firm length of him moving over me, encompassing me completely. One hand planted for balance, he moves the other to cup my jaw, even as he presses more firmly between mylegs. Eyes falling shut, I take the moment to explore, drawing my hands over the muscular planes of his back and around his chest before retracing my steps. Secretly, I commit the feel of him to memory as my fingers tread a path I won’t admit to having dreamed about.

And I have no complaints.

“Hallie,” he breathes, lips lifting from mine even as his thumb continues to stroke along my jaw. “Open your eyes.”

A slave to sensation, I do as I’m told, my hazy, lust-filled gaze meeting his. His warmth makes my throat dry with a need I’ve yet to fully comprehend. His pants are abrasive against the smooth skin of my outer thighs, and there’s no denying how hard he feels against the delicate lace of my panties.

A thread of fear, a shadow of past hurt, rises in my mind, and I grab hold of it, using the internal momentum to plant my palms against the muscles of his warm chest.

“I want to be on top,” I gasp out.

“I want to fuck you hard enough to leave an imprint of you in these cushions,” he replies as if this is part of our normal verbal warfare.

---