Page 2 of The Best Man Problem
Not entirely true. She knew his name. Lincoln…something. Okay, she knew his first name. That had to count, right?
Oh dear God, I’ve become my mother.
Again, not entirely true. She’d only slept with Lincoln after knowing him all of two hours, not married the guy. A quick glance to the ring finger of her left hand confirmed as much. Not that she couldn’t remember the evening in vivid detail.
The strong arm draped across her chest tightened as Lincoln mumbled in his sleep again. The man was a sleep talker, she’d discovered. See! She knew him…slightly.
His large palm started to drift toward her breast, caressing the sensitive skin in an unconscious manner. A yearning ache woke between her thighs, and she mentally told her lady parts to calm down. They’d gotten their fun last night. Numerous times, as she recalled.
Now a stealthy escape was in order.
Having never engaged in a hook-up-type situation before, she really didn’t know the rules for this. Was she supposed to leave before he woke up? Go grab him breakfast? Wait for him to get her room service? Have another go before she hightailed it out of there?
Honestly, the last option sounded the most tempting. However, if she stayed for round two—or five, technically—she might never leave, and wouldn’t that make her look pathetic and clingy? She remembered Lincoln had said something about just arriving in town to visit some friends or reconnect with friends, but whatever he’d said, it was obvious the guy wasn’t local.
Not good for the long term. Long distance rarely worked.
She should leave now, before he woke up, and keep this as a nice memory she could take out on lonely nights.
Or boring nights.
Late nights.
Any and every night.
Slowly, she shifted on the bed, her body screaming in protest as her naked flesh rubbed against the lean, hard, and equally naked body next to her.
What are you doing? You have two more condoms in your purse. Put them to good use!
She told her raging libido to stuff it and gently lifted Lincoln’s arm off her chest to make her escape. He grumbled in his sleep, rolling over as she quietly slipped out of bed. Thank God he seemed to be a heavy sleeper. Now all she had to do was find her clothes, get dressed, and make a run for it.
No, that made it sound like she regretted what happened last night, and she most certainly did not. It might have been out of character for her, a bit naughty and completely off the wall, but she didn’t regret it. Slight embarrassment? Sure. Regret? Not a chance.
Besides, it wasn’t like anyone had to know. It could be her little secret. Her naughty little secret. A small giggle escaped her lips at that thought, and she slapped a hand over her mouth, the noise sounding incredibly loud in the silent morning air of the hotel room.
“Get the cat off the dresser. He’s an orange conductor.”
Wow. Heavy sleeper and talked nonsense in his sleep. Lincoln was just a cornucopia of interesting quirks. No. No he wasn’t. He was a good time she could put in her spank bank, and that was all. Oh, crap, she had to get out of here before she did something rash like wake the man up to jump his bones again.
Glancing around, she frantically searched for her clothing. The room was slightly fuzzy due to the fact that she’d slept in her contacts. A stupid thing to do, but she’d worn them for the wedding and hadn’t brought her glasses, not expecting to spend the night anywhere but at home.
Ah, there! Her dress was strewn across a chair in the corner. Hurrying over, she almost tripped on her heels at the foot of the bed. A memory of Lincoln bending her over the end of the bed, taking her from behind while she wore nothing but those shoes he erotically referred to as “Fuck Me Shoes,” entered her mind. Another flush rose on her skin, but this one came with a longing. A longing she was adamant to deny if she ever wanted to get out of here. And she did. Totally. Very anxious to leave. Yup. No reason to stay.
But her gaze drifted back to the bed and the sinfully sexy man sleeping blissfully. While he lay there, without a care in the world, her mind raged with the inner battle of the century.
Stay or go?
Go. She had to go. If only because she wanted to stay so badly.
There was no future with him. He was a fling, a fun night, a walk on the wild side. Besides, the man didn’t even live here. She didn’t go for the long-distance thing. Lincoln was temporary, and so were they.
Hurrying over to her dress, she shoved the garment on, grateful her friend had chosen a stretchy fabric and simple cut. She didn’t think she could handle a ton of buttons or zippers this morning. She grabbed her heels, opting to put them on once she left the room for stealth reasons. Now all she needed was… Crap! Where the hell were her panties?
I threw them to the wind last night. Much like my caution.
Great, deny herself a little sex and her inner voice became a raging bitch. Hadn’t last night been enough? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so many non-self-induced orgasms. Seriously, how greedy could one woman get?
She had to leave before she fell into the temptation of another round. She didn’t think she could walk away from this man in the light of day.
