Bedding The Best Man (Bedding the Bachelors Book 7) Read online

  Brianne felt her eyes roll back in her head, and let herself embrace fully all the sensations pouring over her. If this was all she could have of Gabe, his body in the confines of a dream, then at least she was going to damn well enjoy it.

  * * *

  Things were moving too fast. Gabe knew he needed to slow things down, but now Brianne—beautiful Brianne whom he’d wanted from the first moment he saw her—Brianne was warm and ready under him, desperate for his caress. Hell, judging by how wet she was, how eagerly she moaned for him, she was more than desperate.

  Gabe had never been a saint, and he was out of willpower. It felt so good to slide into her, to feel her hot core spasm around him as he entered. He rocked his hips, and, damn it, he wanted to go slow, to worship her body as the goddess she was, as she had always deserved to be worshipped. But that had never been his style, and he felt like he’d been waiting all his adult life to make love to her.

  For a moment, guilt trembled through him. Eric was his friend, damn it. This wasn’t right.

  But Brianne was kissing him. Touching him. And he pushed all thoughts but her out of his head. Tonight was about claiming her, letting her know she was his. He’d deal with the consequences come what may. That was for later.

  “God, you feel so tight, so amazing,” he said, and he reached down to highlight his point by pinching her hip. “I love every damn inch of you, all your sexy curves.” He leaned down and sucked on her left nipple, his tongue rolling in lazy circles over her areola even as his hips slammed into hers. He was fucking her hard now, his balls slapping against her ass with every thrust of his body. “You’re the fucking sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. You have the tightest cunt too, so hot and warm, like it was fucking made for me like a goddamn glove. You like that?” he asked, slamming into her with a forceful thrust.

  Brianne shuddered under him and moaned her enjoyment, her face a picture of pure abandon. He slammed into her again, his balls slapping against her entrance and his left hand squeezing her wrists tight enough to bruise. “That’s right, you’re going to come hard for me, baby. I want to feel everything you give me from that ripe pussy of yours.”

  She was panting hard, making little growling noises in her throat that left his balls taut with need and his dick hard and rigid. He pounded into her again, all the while his tongue was working her nipple and the fingers of his other hand dug into her hip. He deliberately loosened his hold on her. He’d wanted this longer than he could even remember, and he felt almost out of control with his need, but this was Brianne. He couldn’t hurt her. He could only give her pleasure.

  His rhythm was increasing and now his limbs felt on fire. He closed his eyes and bit her neck, just a little, and felt himself come, his seed pouring deeply inside of her.

  “Oh Gabe,” she moaned as she dug her nails into his back, a bite of pain that he relished. Then he felt her shudder beneath him, her legs wrap tightly around his waist, and she screamed “Yes, Gabe, yes!”

  Her release shook her body for several long moments, and he relished every moan and whimper that came from her. Finally, when she’d calmed and her breathing had slowed, he eased out of her and kissed her forehead tenderly. Already she was nodding off again; the mix of alcohol in her system and her own exhaustion from a satiating fuck had clearly overwhelmed her. He was glad for that, and relished the thought of falling asleep again with her in his arms.

  But that didn’t happen. Instead, as his body cooled and the tremors of pleasure dissipated, he closed his eyes, and heard her say quite clearly, “What a great dream.” And then she was out.

  Gabe lay there in stunned silence as realization coursed through him. A dream. She’d thought making love to him had been a dream.

  Oh God, what had he done?

  He lay with her for several anguished minutes, staring at her beautiful face, not knowing what to do. Finally, painfully, he forced himself to get up. He slipped on his t-shirt and boxers again, and then he scurried out of her bedroom and to the sofa.

  Dropping his head into his hands, Gabe tried to get a handle on what was happening. He’d just had sex with Brianne. Crazy, wild, passionate sex. It had been every damn thing that he knew it would be, every bit of potential that he’d known they could live up to. It had been a goddamned revelation, and he’d never come that hard in his life. He’d been desperate to go again. Hell, a large part of him wanted to head back in there and pick up where they had left off. He’d given in to his passion too hard, but he wanted to prove to himself and to Brianne that he could cherish her the way she deserved.

  But being too fast and a bit too rough was the least of his problems. The biggest problem was that she’d thought it was all some damn sex fantasy, didn’t know that he’d made love to her. He had no idea how to explain that to her in the cold light of day, how to deal with it when she saw the raw marks around her wrists and the bruises he had left on her ass.

  He wasn’t sure he could, but even that seemed to pale in comparison to the ultimate betrayal: What he’d done to Eric. Yes, Eric had left her at the altar but that didn’t mean things were over forever between them. Once Eric came back…

  Eric had been his best friend since college. He’d promised to always have his bud’s back, and there was no way he could do that and fall for Brianne. No, not fall. He had fallen. He had fallen hard and now Gabe how no idea what to do about it.

  Chapter Nine

  Brianne blinked awake and two things hit her at once: the intoxicating smell wafting in from the kitchen, and the fact she was sore all over, although the subtle ache in her hips and core felt good. As she sat up, realization began to dawn on her. None of this made sense. She was the only one who’d come home last night from the club. Waffles didn’t spontaneously make themselves, and sex dreams could be vivid, as hers had often been, but they couldn’t leave her feeling sore.

  Oh God, it hadn’t been a dream! It had really happened. Suddenly, everything hit her hard. Gabe bringing her home from the club, her asking him to stay. She felt a cold chill sweeping over her and started to hyperventilate, her lungs taking in huge gulps of air.

  How could she have done this?

  She’d thrown herself at Gabe like some pathetic, love sick school girl. Bile rose in her throat, and she wanted to vomit, though that might just have been from the hideous hangover that lurked behind her embarrassment. What a fool she’d been.

  But she couldn’t hide in her room all day.

  What they’d shared last night had been the most intense, most erotic night of her life, and if they’d been different people, she’d drag Gabe’s ass back into bed right then and let breakfast burn. But they weren’t different people, and she needed to face what had happened and try to fix things if at all possible.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, Brianne stood up and shoved on a pair of sweats and a faded college t-shirt. Grabbing a rubber band from her dresser, she pulled her long, tangled hair up into a bun. Holding her shoulders up with as much dignity as she could, she walked into her kitchen.

  Waffles were piled high on the plate in the center of the table. Most were a bit crispier than she liked them, some char on their edges, and Brianne wondered if he’d burned them because he wasn’t used to her kitchen, or because he was as nervous about this confrontation as she was. After last night and the hurdle of this morning, she could hardly blame him for being distracted

  “Hey,” she said, blushing furiously.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice rough, his expression neutral even as his eyes blazed with fiery emotion. “You hungry? You didn’t have any oranges but I went to the corner store and got some grape juice and some Tropicana. They’re in the fridge, if you like.”

  Sex with the real-life Gabe had been completely different than her fantasies had been. He was much rougher, for one thing. In her dreams, they made tender love. Last night they’d screwed like animals and it had left nail marks and bruises on her hips, and red splotches on her collar bone. But one thing couldn’t be denied—she�
��d loved it. And now here he was, talking politely about juice. She wasn’t sure what to do, how to play it.

  He, on the other hand, seemed reserved but comfortable, which made sense. From what she’d heard and seen throughout the years, he had more experience with one-night stands than she did. She was a serial monogamist, while he’d slept around like crazy, and as such was accustomed to the post-booty chat session.

  How many women had he made breakfast for?

  It made her sick to think about it.

  Finally, deciding to be as cool as he was, she nodded. She walked as calmly as she could manage to the fridge, brought the juice to the table, and poured herself a glass. “Would you like some?”

  “No thanks.”

  “You sure? This is fantastic,” she said after she drank a big swallow of the tart orange juice.

  He said nothing, just continued staring at her with a blank expression. It made her more nervous, which made her start to get angry—with him, herself, and the whole situation. Before she even knew what was going to come out of her mouth, she’d tilted her chin defiantly and said, “Not as fantastic as the orgasms we gave each other last night, of course.”

  His eyes widened briefly and for a moment Brianne thought she had managed to break the chilly atmosphere, that he would smile at her and everything would be okay, but her heart sank when his jaw muscles clenched. “They were fantastic,” he said. “It was my pleasure. Too much so. Because I didn’t use a condom.”

  He made the statement baldly. Taking ownership for his carelessness, when the responsibility was just as much hers.

  “I’m on the pill. And I’m healthy. Are you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I am,” he said, even though she hadn’t really expected him to say otherwise.

  “So…now what?” she said, hoping that despite his distant attitude this morning, he’d say he wanted to be with her again.

  “Now we put this behind us,” he said. “It’s not going to happen again. Eric’s my best friend and there’s obviously complicated shit going on with you two. We don’t need our fucking to complicate things even more.”

  She winced at his choice of words and glared at him. “So that’s what last night was? Fucking?”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “You tell me.”

  He went ramrod straight and clenched his silverware so tightly, his knuckles went white. “How can I tell you anything? What do you think last night was? Because I don’t usually fuck girls when they think I’m a goddamn dream man, Brianne.”

  The expression on his face was filled with hurt, so much so that Brianne was momentarily speechless. What could she say, anyway? She had thought she was dreaming, but she also knew it wasn’t a one-time thing. That she’d dreamed of Gabe so often. And that she’d longed for dreams to be reality far too many times.

  At her continued silence, his hand cut through the air. “Right. So we made a mistake. End of story. We both had a fucking awesome time, but I went too far and you’re not my girl, and I don’t want you to be. I’d appreciate it if we could just forget about last night and move on. Please.” His expression was completely cold now. He’d retreated behind walls she couldn’t possibly break down, or even climb over.

  You’re not my girl, and I don’t want you to be.

  I don’t want you to be.

  It was that statement she heard louder than anything else.

  And it was that statement she responded to.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. We did make a mistake. A terrible mistake. And yes, we can forget about it and move on. I don’t want anything from you either, Gabe. But I—I still care for you. And last night…last night was so good.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she struggled to hold them back.

  His eyes flickered and his face softened. He came around the counter to stand before her, placing his big hands on her shoulders. “I care for you, too, Brianne. But let’s not confuse things. A couple of weeks ago you were engaged to Eric, one of the best men I know. You two love each other. We had great sex last night, but that kind of thing passes. It always does. You deserve to be worshipped like the woman you are. You don’t deserve a rough fuck with someone bruising your hips. You deserve flowers and rose petals and jasmine oil. I’m just a roughneck fighter, and you’re a pampered rich girl. I’m not good enough for you.”

  “You’re sure of that?” she asked. Yes, he’d bruised her hips, but she’d loved it. Loved being marked by him. Loved knowing that he wanted her so badly, he couldn’t control himself. Yes, she loved flowers, too, but why couldn’t she have both? And why was he trying to put them in boxes? Reduce himself to being a fighter, and her to being a pampered rich girl? Was that really what he thought of her? “Are you really sure, Gabe?” she asked, hoping it was just guilt and fear driving him to say these things.

  He hesitated, but gazed deeply into her eyes. “I’m sure.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. It was amazing how quickly acceptance overrode her disappointment. But obviously she’d grown used to the idea of never being Gabe’s woman. It was just how it was. How it would always be. Sure, the fantasies could overtake her when she slept, but even this morning, when she’d woken up, even after realizing he’d actually been inside her body, she hadn’t experienced a spark of hope for their future together. “What about being my friend? Are you good enough for that?”

  “Always, Brianne.”

  “Then okay. Friends we’ll stay.” She felt defeated, in every aspect of her life, personal and professional. “But I’ll find someone else to help me with the glamping fundraiser.”

  He stared at her for a tense moment, then said, “Don’t. I can still help you.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she sighed.

  “Why? We’re still friends, remember?”

  “I remember,” she said softly.

  “So?”

  God, she wanted to scream at him. Didn’t he understand it would be torture for her, being around him, especially now that she knew he was an even better lover than she’d suspected? But no. He thought their time together had been a fluke. He had no way of knowing she’d been fantasizing about him for years.

  And he never would.

  When she still didn’t say anything, he said, “We’re friends, and I promised to help make sure this event is the best one you’ve ever done. I have a place in mind. It’s beautiful. A lot of my clients go there and they rave about it. I’ll set up a site. Give you an idea what you’re really up for. I think you’ll have fun. It’s the least I can do.”

  Right. The least he could do.

  For his friend.

  “Fine, Gabe. Thank you.”

  * * *

  Gabe drove away from Brianne’s feeling as if he had been struck in the face by a wrecking ball. He should have bowed out from helping her when she’d given him the chance. But she’d been through so much already. She needed him. Besides, other than last night, he’d spent six years managing to keep his hands off her. He could make sure things between them went back to the way they should be.

  Friendly.

  He’d do exactly what he had promised, no more, and once he proved to her she was more than capable of pulling off the glamping event, he would take off like Eric had and sort his head out. Actually, he needed to get his head sorted out right now, because all he could think of was how she’d felt in his arms. On his tongue. Around his cock. Suddenly, he could barely stop himself from turning around, heading back to her place, sweeping her in his arms, and saying to hell with Eric.

  Feeling desperate, he headed to the gym. He needed to pound some frustration out and one of the employees there, Huck, was always good for a no-holds-barred scrap.

  He parked by the curb, and locked up. He often thought it was a little pointless because if anyone around there wanted to take his little sports car, a lock wouldn’t stand in their way. Fortunately, most people in the neighborhood would recognize his car, and his reputation as a brawler was usually enough to hold them off.
He moved to the almost hidden door in the large warehouse in front of him, and pushed it open, wincing as the stench of sweat hit him in the face.

  “Hey Gabe, I wasn’t expecting you here this weekend,” Sam called down from his office overlooking two full size boxing rings, and all the equipment an aspiring boxer could ever need.

  “It’s been a tough week, Sam,” he called back. “Is Huck around?”

  “Shit, that isn’t a tough week, that’s a fucking suicidal one. Anything I can help with?” his wiry trainer asked as he came down the stairs.

  “Nah, nothing a good fight won’t sort out.”

  Sam slapped him on the back. “Huck’s on the punch bags. I think he’s had a rough one, too. You sure you don’t want to spar with me instead?”

  Gabe smiled. He was half Sam’s age and twice his size, but Sam was an ex-welterweight champion, fast on his feet. He could land a swift jab before his opponent even knew where he was.

  “Huck’ll do me fine. Leave the two of us lumbering heavyweights to it. You stick to picking on people your own size,” he joked.

  “Go and strip down, I’ll get Huck ready for you. Go easy on him, you really do look like shit.”

  Once he was in the ring, Gabe finally felt back under control.

  Sam had been right—Huck was definitely in a bad mood, and it made his punches come thick and fast. Unlike Gabe, he had never learned to control his rage in order to best use it, which gave his opponents the chance to outwit him. Unfortunately, Gabe wasn’t focused either. He kept thinking of Brianne and before he knew it, Huck had planted a perfect uppercut on his jaw. Gabe could almost feel his brain rattling around inside his skull. Huck hit like a locomotive at full speed.