Best Man with Benefits (Wedding Dare, #4, McCade Brothers, #3)(19)
She stood, crumpled the stupid scavenger hunt lists into a ball, and marched to the elevators. If he wanted to be with Regan so badly, he could start by tracking down his new girlfriend all on his own. Lord knows she couldn’t have gotten far in those heels she’d been wearing.
Sophie looked down at her sensible brown trail shoes. Unlike Regan’s, these shoes did not whisper, “We look good down here, but we’d look even better crossed behind your neck.” Hers said, “We’re sturdy. Walk all over us.” Well, guess what? She was done being walked all over.
The elevator doors opened and she strode forward, only to bounce off six feet one inch of strapping male, cloaked in a heather-gray raglan shirt tucked haphazardly into well-worn jeans. An all-too-familiar voice said, “Whoa Turbo, where are you running off to? The scavenger hunt is this way.” Two strong hands curled around her upper arms.
Logan. She knew without looking up. Good thing, too, because looking up proved to be a challenge. Something about the silver of his belt buckle and the white striations around the front pockets of his jeans drew her attention like a magnet. Vivid sensory memories of what lay beneath a handful of metal buttons sprang to mind. The suede-and-steel texture of him. His scent. His taste. Her mouth watered, and an insidious heat burned its way through her body to settle uncomfortably between her thighs.
An equally insidious heat flared in her chest and stormed into her cheeks, but she recognized the source as anger and welcomed the burn. She raised her head to tell him he could shove his scavenger hunt were the sun didn’t shine, but found him looking down at her, one eyebrow cocked knowingly. “See something you like, Sophie?”
She brushed past him and got in the elevator. “Here’s your scavenger hunt list. Have fun.” She threw the balled-up paper through the closing doors and had the satisfaction of seeing it hit him in chest. He caught it on the bounce and looked up in time to give her a glimpse of his baffled expression before the doors shut.
Okay, she might have come off a little crazy just then. Technically, he didn’t yet know he’d ditched her for Regan. And the last thing she wanted was to give anyone, especially him, the idea she cared one way or the other whom he hooked up with. Staring at his crotch like a sex-starved nymphomaniac, throwing a paper ball at him, and stomping off probably didn’t say, “I’m totally cool.” The thing to do, she decided as the bell dinged signaling her floor, was to avoid him from now on.
Digging her card key from the pocket of her khakis, she stepped out of the elevator—and straight into six feet one inch of strapping male. Slightly sweaty, hard-breathing, strapping male. She blinked, not quite sure she could trust her eyes, but Logan didn’t disappear, so she asked the only question that came to mind. “How did you get here?”
“Stairs.”
“Six flights?”
“Yep.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a minute to catch his breath. “Why?”
“Because I want to know what crawled up your ass. Earlier you showed me the kind of good morning that actually makes me happy I’m awake. Now you chuck a list at me, tell me to ‘Have fun,’ and run back to your room. Correct me if I’m wrong, but all I’ve done this whole time is…” He trailed off and shook his head. “…breathe. So I can’t figure out what pissed you off.”
“I’m not pissed off. Seriously, don’t give me another thought. Just go on about your day.” She waved her hand through the air like a magician. “You’re absolved of any need to spend time with me.” Head high, she pivoted and walked down the hall toward her room.
He fell into step beside her. “Ah. I know what your problem is.”
Smug. He sounded smug. “I don’t have a problem.”
“You do. You’re all pent-up and frustrated because you didn’t get yours this morning.”
“Of all the stupid, egotistical…I won’t dignify that with an answer.” The only thing worse than his accusation was admitting to herself it was true. The unfulfilled woman inside her—the one he’d left hanging this morning—yearned to back him up against the wall, tug his clothes off, and do the things she’d whipped herself into a frenzy thinking about during her shower. “Besides, what makes you think I didn’t ‘get mine’ this morning, after you left?’
He aimed a panty-melting look at her. “Self-service?”
“Maybe.” She sniffed and ordered herself not to blush.
“Based on your mood, I’d have to say you didn’t do it right. The least I can do is help you take care of things correctly. I know just what you need.”
She stopped, glanced around to make sure no guests or housekeeping staff hovered near enough to overhear their ridiculous conversation. Luckily, the hallway was completely clear. “You don’t know anything about my needs.”
He smoothed his thumb over her lower lip and she had to lock her jaw to stop her impulsive tongue from darting out to taste him. “You need me to strip you naked, bend you over my bed, and slide my cock inside you until you forget what it feels like not to have me filling you. And once you’ve come so hard you can’t stand, you need me to flip you around, hike your legs over my shoulders, and do it again, head-on, until you scream loud enough to have management banging on the door. The only open question left in my mind is the order.”