Best Man with Benefits (Wedding Dare, #4, McCade Brothers, #3)(11)
Not to be outdone, the show-off south of his navel perked up and demonstrated its talent for getting hard, too. An odd, slightly breathy sound from Sophie had his guilty gaze jumping to her face.
What he saw there did nothing to alleviate the discomfort of his dick swelling against the zipper of his shorts. Her wide eyes roamed all over him, eventually homing in on his fly, which made him realize his own waterlogged clothes revealed more than normal. Her cheeks grew pink, and her lips parted to accommodate fast, shallow breaths. He envisioned backing her up against the wall, tearing her shirt open, yanking her bra up, and letting those opulent breasts spill into his hands.
The elevator came to a halt. Her body swayed toward him, almost imperceptibly, bringing her erect nipples infinitesimally closer. The muscles in his chest tightened in anticipation. Would her eyes drift closed and a sigh of pleasure fill the small compartment if he—
The doors whooshed open. She jerked upright, blinked, and then turned beet red. “I have to get off now.” Impossibly, as soon as the words left her mouth, her cheeks turned even redder. “I mean”—she hugged the champagne bottle to her chest like a teddy bear—“this is my floor.”
“Yep. Mine, too.” He pulled his shoes out of his pockets, tossed them on the floor, and slid into them, never once taking his eyes off her. Then he put his hand across the door to keep it open and gestured her to precede him out of the car.
She walked past him, headed down the hall, and produced her card key from her back pocket. He patted his front hip pocket for his own. Uh-oh. Nothing. He reached into his pocket and dug around. Still nothing. Frowning, he tried the other pocket and came up empty again. The key hunt had him so distracted he nearly barreled into her when she stopped in front of one of the doors.
“This is me. Room 612. Here”—she handed him the champagne—“you won.”
“You’re going to make me drink this all alone?” He took the bottle in one hand and continued his key quest with the other. Calling it a night was probably for the best, considering the struggle he was having remembering the Sophie-Is-Off-Limits rule, but still, disappointment landed heavy in his gut. He’d had fun tonight. Hell, when was the last time he’d run barefoot in the grass under a full moon? No clue, which meant it had been too long, he thought as he dug through his back pockets. Goddammit, where was his key?
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I’m just”—he sighed and gave himself one last, fruitless pat-down—“losing my mind. I can’t find my room key. Again.” Heat crawled up his neck.
“You’re not losing your mind.” She bit her lip and he had the funny feeling she did it to keep from laughing.
“Okay, divulge. Where’s my key?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I suspect you have a…ahem…surprise waiting for you in your room right now.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“Um…a bridesmaid.”
“A what?”
She lost her battle with her laughter. “You heard me,” she managed. “Keep this to yourself, but the girls called dibs on the groomsmen, and, yes, someone plans to bag the best man. Don’t look so shocked. You should be flattered. They’re all incredibly beautiful. Anyway, sights were set, strategies devised, and room keys slipped from the pockets of unsuspecting victims. Since your seductress apparently failed to make her move last night, my guess is she’s taking another shot at claiming her prize.”
The beginning of a headache settled in behind his eyes again. He liked fun and games—and recreational sex—as much as the next guy, but for whatever reason the idea of going back to his room so a bored bridesmaid could use him like a personal toy sounded about as appealing as, well, it didn’t sound unappealing, but it sounded superficial, and meaningless, and a little too much like a stripped-down version of his current love life. Since Defy Gravity had taken off, the women he met tended to look at him as the human equivalent of a Louis Vuitton bag. Serving as a “prize” in the battle of the bridesmaids only took matters to a new low.
Then his thoughts turned in an even more uncomfortable direction. “Which groomsman did you pick?” And why did he suddenly want to pound the crap out of Reed, Brock, or Tyler?
“None.” Her blush suggested otherwise, but she stood her ground. “Sneaking into some poor unsuspecting guy’s room, lying in wait until he gets there, and saying, Surprise! Please. I abstained.”
His headache backed off a bit. “I don’t know about you, Soph, but between the hotel laundry and the sprinklers, I’ve had all the surprises I can handle tonight. Let me hide out in your room until the key-snatcher gets bored and leaves. We can pop this champagne and you can help me write my best man toast.”
She stared up at him as if he’d just handed her another big surprise, but then swallowed and unlocked her door. “Stay as long as you want. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be as a speechwriter, but—”
“Invaluable help.” He held the door for her and then followed her into the room. “You’ve got all the embarrassing childhood stories.”
“Maybe, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy. The thing about older brothers is they have equally embarrassing dirt on their younger sisters. There’s a little something called mutual assured destruction that prevents me from talking.”