Page 73 of Best Man Speaking

I’m curious about it all. I want it all.

I want things that are not currently mine.

“You’re curious,” he repeats in disbelief, like somehow it’s not a good enough reason. Like men haven’t used more ridiculous reasons since the invention of the condom. “And you want that, with me?”

“I’ve never, not with anyone…” I can feel the heat in my cheeks.

Marcus looks incredulous at my admission. “You’re saying you want me to be your first, again?”

The way he phrases the question, bringing the past into the potential enjoyment of my present, causes my hackles to rise. “When you put it that way, maybe not?”

“You’re asking me this over pizza?”

This could have been a yes-or-no answer. A less painful experience for everyone involved.

“Would tacos have been better?” I volley back.

“Anatomically?” he questions, surely just drawing things out purposefully. “Maybe?”

And I want to throw things at him. Big, heavy, hard things.

I stand, ready to make a hasty exit. For all that I enjoy our banter, I didn’t want this request to become a part of it.

I’ve barely moved when he catches my wrist, gentle but firm, holding me in place.

“Hallie, look at me.” My eyes gradually make their way to his. “Is this something you really want?”

I swallow down my nervousness and apprehension, shooting my shot and asking for what I want. “Yes.”

“You want me in you bare, but you don’t want me in a bed?” A small smile moves over his lips.

He takes this in, and I wonder if it makes him feel used. It isn’t my intention, but it could definitely be interpreted that way. I could be communicating this a lot better, yet for some reason, I want him to give me this one crazy, potentially risky thing. If it’s great, it’s great, and if it all goes to hell, it didn’t matter anyway.

“Only one of those things is on my list of kinks. I’ll let you figure out which.”

He shakes his head even as he says, “Okay.”

“Really?” My heart stutters and slows, and I’m able to breathe again.

“Yes, really.” His answer is steady now, as if reiterating his words has solidified the response.

When I tell him I’m on birth control, he doesn’t ask me to prove it. Doesn’t demand to see that I haven’t skipped any of the little foil-covered pills I carry in my purse.

He simply nods, trusting me enough to take my word for it. And when he tells me he hasn’t been with anyone in that way since he was tested last, I believe him too.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Marcus

Nothing is going the way I’d hoped. Not a single thing.

Hallie is everywhere—on my property, in my house, and more often than not, underneath or astride me.

Not that I’m not enjoying it. I am.

Too much to end this, too much to let her go. That’s the problem. I’m setting myself up to fail, and I can’t seem to stop.

I look down at my phone for what seems like the thousandth time, waiting for Hallie to see the text message I’d sent her right before takeoff. The trip to Vegas wouldn’t have us in the air for long, but it’d be long enough for a little bit of mischief.

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