Page 46 of The Best Men
Mark shivers.
I roam my hands along the grooves of his abs, savoring his reaction, his shudders.
I jerk it off him, up and over, andyes.
My breath comes fast as I stare at him again, admiring the smooth skin, the cut of his lean muscles. Sliding my hands along the expanse of his pecs, my skin heats.
“So much better,” I mutter.
He lets out a low groan and then just trembles all over from my hands on his chest. It’s heady, this power, knowing I can arouse him in every way I want.
I travel back down his body. When I reach that happy trail that makes me very happy indeed, I slide my thumb along the dark hair. His hands shoot out and curl around my hips as he mutters, “Fuuuck.”
As he grips me tighter, I dip my face to his neck, licking a line along a pulsing vein. His chest rises and falls as another harsh breath falls from his lips.
I’m going to make him lose his mind, and he wants this delicious torture. I drag his earlobe between my lips, sucking on it, then nipping him.
“Ohhhh,” he mutters, like nothing has ever felt better.
Mark Banks is a ticking bomb about to explode. I let go to see what’s in his eyes. To read him.
But Mark is rocket fast as he grabs my face, hauls me closer, and kisses me deeply.
His moan is dark and dirty, like he’s going to die of desire. That noise makes my dick even harder. But it also raises an important question.
One I simply have to ask.
I break the kiss.
“Are my lips still stupid?” I ask.
“Shut up.” He goes to kiss me again, but I weave out of the way.
“Are they?”
“Yes, they’re still stupid.” He takes a beat. “Stupid hot.”
“Good answer.” I coast my hands down his chest, unbutton his terrible khaki shorts. “By the way, I can’t stand these either.”
“Just take them off. Just take everything off. Maybe you won’t hate me so much.”
“Maybe I won’t,” I say, but I definitely don’t hate him.
He’s growing on me. A lot.
I take him up on his offer, stripping him . . . andshut the front door.
Orange.
Tight.
Briefs.
Am I hallucinating? Or is this my lucky week? I have such a thing for a hot pair of underwear. “I had this nightmare you were going to have on navy-blue boring boxer briefs,” I confess as I gawk at the sight of my banker nearly revealed. Yeah, I have no more questions about Mark Banks. Everything is clear.
“I’m full of surprises,” he says.
I’ll say. “And this is my favorite kind.” I cover his bulge, and we both groan at the same time. “But, as much as I like these . . . I need them off.”
