Best Man...with Benefits Read online

  When he saw that it was Seth, he answered immediately. “Hey,” he said. “How’s it going down there?”

  “Don’t ever get married,” his old friend warned him.

  “Seth?” He could hear the noise of a bar in the background, loud conversations and louder music. “Where are you?”

  “I don’t know, a bar somewhere in Venice.”

  “What happened?”

  “We had a fight.”

  He had to hold back a laugh. “Dude, everybody fights.”

  “Not us. We never fight. She used to be so sweet.” He slurped a drink. “And hot. So hot.”

  “You’ve been married a week. I seriously doubt Amy has lost her looks.”

  “I’m telling you, the minute you get married, everything changes. I used to get to her place and she’d be all dressed up for me. Now I have to watch her getting dressed. And seriously, she wants input. Like, do you think it’s cold enough for a jacket? How the hell do I know the external temperature if I haven’t been outside, either? Does she think she married a meteorologist? And then, do I like these shoes? Or these shoes? And don’t think you can get away with randomly pointing, because you can’t. Then she accuses you of not listening.”

  “You’ve been with Amy a long time. How did you not know any of this?”

  “Because it was different,” he bellowed. “Even the sex.”

  “Don’t tell me about the sex.” He seriously did not want to hear details. But short of hanging up on his oldest friend, there wasn’t any way to shut the guy up.

  “You know why there aren’t any jokes about married sex?”

  He was pretty sure there were plenty, but he kept his mouth shut and listened.

  “Because it’s already a joke.”

  Even though he’d never gone into any explicit detail, Seth had always led him to believe that Amy was great in the sack. What was going on? “I thought you two had awesome sex.”

  “It’s not as exciting anymore. I wake up, she’s there, beside me in bed. I go to bed, she’s there beside me in bed. Where’s the fun in that? I look ahead and I realize she’s always going to be beside me in bed for the next forty years, day in and day out.”

  “Kind of what you signed up for,” he offered.

  “We had a fight.”

  “Yeah. You said. Good. You should fight. It’s healthy.”

  “She said I’m a pig.”

  Having roomed with the guy Jackson knew it to be true. “You are a pig.”

  “See, when you say it, it’s okay. When she said it, she made it sound like I treat her like a servant. She even brought my mother into it.”

  “Oh, that’s low.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I’m sitting here on my honeymoon alone in a bar and it isn’t even noon.”

  “Go back. Tell her you’re sorry. And remember, it’s normal to fight.”

  “On your honeymoon?”

  He had no idea. “Just go talk to her. You love Amy and she loves you. You’ll work it out.”

  “I guess.” He blew out a breath. “So, what are you doing on a Saturday night? Getting ready to bang some hot chick, I bet.”

  Well, he was certainly ready, but it looked as if the hot chick in question wasn’t coming. “I wish,” he said.

  As he hung up, he decided, since he was in this fine suite, that he might as well enjoy it. He uncorked the wine he’d bought from Lauren, poured himself a glass and shucked his clothes, slipping into the sumptuous robe provided by the hotel.

  It wasn’t cold, but he switched on the gas fireplace anyway, and settled in an armchair with a book.

  He’d barely read two pages when the thunk/whirr of the key card sliding home and the lock opening announced he had a visitor.

  She didn’t bother knocking.

  When she stepped into the room, he didn’t speak, simply stared at her. She was so gorgeous, with her hair loose and a soft cotton dress molding to her exquisite body.

  “I didn’t think you were coming,” he said.

  “I didn’t think so, either.”

  His heart was pounding and simply the sight of her standing there had him growing hard. “What made you change your mind?”

  She walked to him with her long stride. Then she took the book out of his hand and placed it on the table. She hoisted a leg over and settled on his lap. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him, long and deep. He knew the second she touched him that their crazy night hadn’t been a dream.

  She pulled away, her eyes already growing heavy lidded.

  “This,” she said and lowered her mouth to his once more.

  7

  THE FIRST TIME had been random, spontaneous. The second was different because it was deliberate. He’d driven a long way, gone to a lot of trouble to get a room and drop her a key with a taunting note.

  She’d shown up.

  And now that she was here, she couldn’t imagine depriving herself of that mouth of his, those hands that seemed as though they knew instinctively where to touch, what she liked.

  Beneath the hotel robe she could feel him hard and ready for her and the knowledge made her wet and ready for him. His fingertip traced the V of her dress from her collarbone to where the two sides of fabric joined over her breasts. As his fingertip traced the line, she felt shivers run over her skin, igniting stronger reactions in her nipples and her core.

  He followed the line of the dress to where the wrap belted in front. “What happens if I pull on this tie?” he asked, his voice smoky with desire.

  “Why don’t you pull it and see what happens?”

  He did, so slowly that it seemed as though the messy bow she’d made when she put the dress on earlier was struggling to stay whole. The loops took endless time, growing smaller while she and Jackson both watched.

  When the tie finally gave, she felt them both give a sigh of relief. He still didn’t rip the dress off her; he took his time, easing the fabric away, revealing her slowly.

  Even though he’d already seen her naked, she felt as though he was savoring the experience all over again.

  When he’d pushed the dress off her arms, and let it fall slowly around them, he pulled her forward so he could put his mouth on her, right through the lacy cups of her bra. She sucked in a breath as the sensations shot, wild and crazy, through her.

  “You smell so good,” he said, “And you taste even better.”

  He smelled good, too, and he tasted good, so good. When she reached forward to kiss and taste him some more, he slipped his hands behind her and unhooked her bra. He slid the silky straps slowly down her arms, and she felt him enjoying the view as he bared her. The room was dim but for the flickering of the gas fire, which added atmosphere and pulses of warm light over her skin.

  She wanted to see him, too, to feel herself skin to skin so she wiggled out of his arms only long enough to strip off her panties, feeling his hungry gaze on her as she did so.

  Then she slipped onto his lap once more. And she ran her fingertip down the V of his robe. Slowly, torturously. She felt the warmth of his skin, the roughness of hair, the bump of a nipple. When she got to the tie, she asked, “What happens if I pull this?”

  He was having as much fun as she was. His grin was intimate and daring. “Why don’t you pull it and we’ll find out?”

  She did. Maybe not as slowly as he’d done hers. She didn’t have as much patience. But she took her time. She felt him holding himself in check, knew he was impatient to be inside her and that he was letting her set the pace.

  When she finally had the tie undone, she opened the sides of the robe slowly, as though she were unwrapping a particularly decadent chocolate.

  It wasn’t that she’d forgotten what he looked like, it was more that she doubted her own memory. She assumed that she’d fantasized the absolute perfection of his body.

  But she hadn’t. His skin was tanned and she couldn’t imagine how many hours he must spend in the gym to get those abs, the pecs, the arms.

  He wa
sn’t wearing any underwear, which made her very happy.

  She touched, she stroked, she tasted and nibbled, and a few times she bit lightly.

  He did his own touching, stroking, tasting and nibbling until they were both breathing heavily and she knew that it would be painful to tease each other any longer. She grabbed one of the condoms she’d brought from her bag, which she’d dropped beside the chair. She took her time sheathing him, enjoying wrapping her hands around that strong, gorgeous cock.

  Then she maneuvered herself so her legs were spread wide over him where he sat on the chair, positioned him at the entrance to her body and sank slowly down.

  He filled her, stretched her, anchored her, and then they began to move together. Blue, Irish eyes stared up at her, intense and focused as though she was the only thing in the world he cared about. The connection between them when their gazes met was almost more intimate than their joined bodies. Maybe he was an ass by day, but at night he was like something out of a fairy tale. The evil gremlin who became a prince in darkness, but reverted to his unpleasant alter ego when daylight returned.

  He must have caught her grin. “Something about having sex with me amuses you?” He moved in time to his words so she could barely hold on to sanity.

  “I was thinking you’re like one of those fairy tales where you’re an evil troll by day but by night you turn into a magnificent prince.”

  She thrust down hard as she said it, rocking against his pelvis. She didn’t think anyone had ever reached so deeply inside her before.

  He thrust up against her as if he could push in a little deeper, as though he could never get deep enough. “Seems to me,” he said, “that in those fairy tales it’s usually the woman who’s an ugly hag by day, but in the moonlight changes to a gorgeous princess.”

  He reared up out of the chair, so fast she had to wrap her legs around his hips to hang on. He held her, walked with her, until she was pushed against the wall, and where she’d had control of the pace, now it was all his.

  She was so open, so stretched, and it was like nothing she’d ever known.

  With each thrust he was hitting both her clit and her G spot, and she was starting to see stars.

  “You saying I’m an ugly hag by day?” she managed, sounding dreamy to her own ears.

  “I’m saying you’re gorgeous in the moonlight,” he said, thrusting deep. She felt the tremors of a climax begin deep inside her. “And the firelight.” He thrust again, taking her over the top. She cried out, kissing him, squirming against him, crazy with wanting even as the wanting was over. She felt him lose control at the same moment so they cried out together, their mouths still joined.

  The moment stretched to eternity and back again and then a glorious sense of Yes filled her.

  He walked them both to the bed, still connected, and slowly lowered her down. They lay together, recovering their breath, and then she put her mouth on his chest, where his heart thumped beneath his skin.

  She tasted salt and heat and felt that she’d reached a new level of high she’d never reached before. Knowing they’d need to rest up a little for round two, she settled against him.

  “Do you want a glass of wine?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  He rose, naked and gorgeous, and strode to the table where the open wine sat. The firelight glistened on his skin and she drank in the sight of his muscular back, the tight, round butt, the long legs that were strong enough to hold both of them up while they made love against the wall.

  He poured two glasses and returned to the bed, handing her one and putting his own down. Then he returned for the cheese and fruit plate and settled in bed with it.

  He passed her the tray and she helped herself to a slice of brie and quarter of pear. Munched. Sipped her wine.

  “How can you have great sex with someone you don’t even like?” she asked.

  He shrugged as though searching for answers, too. “Everybody says Steve Jobs was a jerk, but I still like my iPhone.”

  He leaned over and kissed her shoulder, a brush of his lips that had her wanting all over again. “And for the record I thought it was great, too.”

  “Do you think, if we actually liked each other, that the sex would get dull?”

  She thought he might not answer. He took his time selecting a grape and said, “That’s never going to happen, so we won’t have to find out.”

  During that long, incredible night she discovered one thing for certain. The magic between them hadn’t been a onetime thing.

  If anything, the sex was better the second night.

  But, like all nights, it had to come to an end.

  As dawn broke, Lauren eased out of bed. Jackson had fallen asleep only a few minutes ago and she knew that if she didn’t leave now, she’d fall asleep, too. And one thing all those fairy tales had in common was that getting caught in the daylight was bad news for the prince or princess under the crazy-ass spell.

  So she crept over to her clothes and swiftly dressed, then grabbed her bag.

  As she crept to the door, she paused, turning to take one last look at her sleeping lover. The man she despised by day and was beginning to crave by night.

  She put two fingers to her lips and sent him a silent kiss. Then she let herself carefully out, wondering when she’d see him again.

  8

  AMY CALLED LAUREN almost the second she was back from Italy, full of giggles and wanting to meet for lunch to tell her all about the honeymoon.

  Lauren had never been so happy to hear from her best friend. She wanted to talk to Amy, to tell her about the madness of this crazy affair with Jackson, to see if she could make sense of it by talking it through and maybe get Amy’s advice.

  Amy had a flexible work schedule. She worked part-time for an interior designer who pretty much let her set her own hours. And, since Lauren didn’t have to work at the winery today, a long lunch was definitely on the menu.

  They chose a little place near the wharf with a great view of the bay and good food. When she spotted Amy, she grinned. Clearly, her friend had found time to go shopping in Rome. She wore a summer cotton dress that screamed designer and shoes that made Lauren swoon.

  They hugged. “You look fabulous,” she told Amy. She did, too. Lightly tanned and happy.

  Amy groaned. “I don’t. I ate so much. I couldn’t help it—the food was so amazing. But between the bread and the pasta and the wine, I must have gained fifty pounds.” She patted her stomach. “I am going on a diet.” She picked up the menu and sighed. “Next week.”

  “How many diets will this make?”

  Amy lowered her menu. “Easy for you to say. You are so naturally thin. I should hate you.”

  Lauren returned her fake glare. “You are so rich. I should hate you for those shoes alone.”

  “You know what they say. You can never be too thin or too rich. Between us we are the perfect woman.”

  Then she passed Lauren a bag with Italian writing on the front of it. “What’s this?”

  “Something from Italy that I thought you might like. I would have brought home one of those gorgeous, brooding Italian men, but he wouldn’t fit in my suitcase.”

  Lauren opened the bag and gasped with pleasure. Inside were a lacy black bra and a pair of matching panties. “Italian lingerie? Are you kidding me?”

  “I know your wardrobe and you really needed some new lingerie.”

  Oh, she had no idea.

  “So? How was the honeymoon?”

  “Italy is so beautiful. I loved every second of it. The food, the art, the history. Even the weather was perfect.” She rattled on about Rome (kind of dirty and crowded, as she’d remembered, but the shopping was fantastic and so was the Colosseum) and Florence (as pretty as the postcards made it look) and Venice (she’d forgotten that it smells, but she got used to it, and the gondola ride by moonlight was so romantic).

  “So everything worked out okay, after you and Seth had your first fight?” Lauren asked.

  Am
y’s lips tightened. She’d known the woman too many years not to be able to read her every expression. This one said she didn’t want to talk about it. Probably regretted her hysterical honeymoon phone call. “Oh, sure. It was just a blip. We’re so lucky to have found each other. I’m the happiest woman in the world.”

  “I’m glad,” Lauren said.

  Somehow, with Amy proclaiming that married life was perfect, she didn’t feel comfortable sharing something as intimate and confusing as her sex-only relationship with Jackson. Even as she ate her organic greens and goat cheese salad, she realized that telling Amy would no longer mean telling only Amy. No doubt she’d share what she’d learned with her new husband. And since Seth was Jackson’s best friend, well, the last thing she wanted was to be a topic of conversation among the newlyweds. And, for all she knew, Seth wouldn’t be able to resist telling the frat boys.

  Sadly, she decided to keep her secret to herself and stay confused rather than confiding in Amy and making a big deal out of what was purely sex.

  Simple, uncomplicated sex.

  It wasn’t as if she and Jackson were the first two people to indulge in a sex-only relationship. They were friends with benefits. Except that it was more like enemies with benefits, which made the entire thing a little strange.

  But sitting there, listening to Amy talk about her plans for decorating her home and how she and Seth had signed up for a gourmet cooking class so they could host better dinner parties, she began to feel that her oldest friend was slipping away. Of course she was. It was only natural.

  “And the first person we’re having over for dinner is you. You have to see your window now that we’ve had it installed. It looks so good. Makes me happy whenever I look at it.”

  “You had it installed already?”

  “Yeah! One of the benefits of working for an interior designer is knowing so many tradespeople. I love it so much. It’s my favorite wedding gift. Truly. I wanted it in my house right away so I always feel like my best friend’s with me.”

  She’d really put her heart and soul into that piece and was so happy that Amy loved the small window. She’d created an abstract design with the blues of the ocean that Seth and Amy both loved, using the circle, the symbol of eternity, as her main motif. She’d done the window in an art deco style to complement the era in which the townhouse had been built and embedded a subtly entwined A and S to personalize it.