Page 77 of Best Man Speaking

Hallie

It’d taken everything in me to not look at Marcus when we’d been in the club earlier. But I’d relished knowing he could see me from where he’d sat, a glass tumbler his only company. I’d closed my eyes as the music vibrated through my chest, hoping he’d been watching me dance, my body moving in sync with those around me. The thought of him watching me had only been amplified by the thought of him having me. And pure, undiluted excitement had coursed through my veins.

Now, I’m perched on the edge of the bed, heels still on, my face hovering over the phone grasped between my palms. Unlike most hotels I’ve stayed in over the years, this one actually seems to have soundproofing because I can’t hear anything besides the relentless pounding of my own heart.

I give myself a five-second countdown before I check my appearance in the bedroom mirror for a final time. I dim the lights, leaving the curtains in front of the window open, the bright lights of Vegas sending a glow of its own into the room. Needing a distraction, I turn the TV on, but it’s obnoxiouslyloud. I turn it off, and the silence of the space somehow feels louder still. And so I pace, just a little, in front of the door.

I don’t have to wait long before a gentle knock taps out, and I’m on it in a flash.

The door opens on a smirking Marcus.

“Room service, ma’am,” he says with a little bow of his head. He’s such a fool.

He barely has the words out of his mouth before I pull on his shirtsleeve and drag him inside the room, where I lock the door behind us.

My heart is racing a million miles an hour as I turn to Marcus.

Panic must be written all over my face because his grin grows, the dimple in his left cheek beginning to show. His whole stupid face is alight with mischief, displaying nothing but his pleasure in this situation.

It’s now and only now that it occurs to me that I’ve just dragged this man into a bedroom, and I’m not quite sure what to do with him next.

Obviously, I don’t mean sex. I know how sex works. We have done the sex. Beds, however, were not part of this deal.

A soft vibration sounds from my hand, and I find my phone lighting up with a call from Erica. Fuck. I answer it even as I turn to move back toward the hotel room door, the door Marcus is currently leaning against. His eyes glint with mirth.

My panic spikes.

I face him, heart pounding in my chest.

Thankfully, Erica doesn’t wait for any acknowledgment on my part before asking, “Hal, are you still in the suite?”

The proverbial cat releases my tongue, and I’m able to reply, “No. I was feeling a little jittery, so I decided to take a walk back down to the casino.”

A beat passes. “Oh. Okay.”

Marcus makes a move to step toward me, looking like a man who’s up to no good, so I hold a hand up to stop his progress, and he has the audacity to pout. I roll my eyes in response since having him touch me won’t help in the creation of cohesive sentences.

“I won’t be long. I just need to work off a little more energy. I’ll see you in the morning?” I ask, hoping she simply takes the hint and goes back to bed.

“Okay, babe. Sleep well.”

I sigh in relief. At least I’m getting lucky in this sense.

“You too,” I say, taking a few steps back, then collapsing onto the bed. I throw my phone to the side before pressing my hands over my face.

I strain to hear any other sound in the room before I peek through my fingers. I make eye contact with Marcus, who’s peering down at me. The cuffs of his white shirt are rolled up, the top button undone, and a pang of desire curls through me.

“You okay there?”

“Yep. I’m just peachy.” My words are muffled, my hands still covering part of my mouth.

My mind’s in overdrive, skipping ahead and thinking about what we’re doing in this room and planning the logistics. Every scriptwriter who’s ever set a sex scene in Vegas would be completely appalled with my lack of spontaneity.

But I don’t want to have sex on the floor.

One of us will end up with carpet burn, the desk’s likely to break, and the thought of standing and bending is not what I see myself doing in the next hour or two.

Which leaves the bed.

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