Page 112 of Take The Risk
All of which led me to him.
It had been the streaks of silver in his beard that had lured me in. When I got closer, I found skin covered in so many tattoos it’d take a week to count them. The calluses on the hand he wrapped around my arm were so thick it felt just shy of having sandpaper rub my skin. To my horror, he had to speak in a voice so deep and gravelly it reminded me of one of those low growls a mountain lion makes right before it attacks.
How was I to resist him?
I’d promised myself just a kiss. Just one and then I’d leave him there wanting more.
Man, I was weak. The first swipe of his tongue against mine and I knew I was going home with him. When those sandpaper mitts got on my bare skin, I’d unraveled. The ache he created left me a quivering mess on his bed. One only soothed by the thickest cock I’d ever seen. I’d nearly orgasmed at the sight of it with the shiny metal ball piercing the underside. I’d never seen a Prince Albert, but now I knew it should be called a King.
My pussy cramped all the next day from the sheer number of orgasms he and Albert had wrung from my body.
When the light of the next day had filtered in the next morning, I’d left him in my rearview mirror. Of course, I left him a little something to remember me by. Just because I planned on forgetting him didn’t mean I was going to let him forget me.
It had been one night. A mystery man in a bar. Me drowning my sorrows in booze and his body, letting off steam.
It was supposed to be simple.
And it was.
Until I’d sauntered down the aisle, walking Phoebe in her wedding dress to the man I’d deemed worthy enough to marry her. It was simple until I looked at the man standing beside the groom and nearly face-planted in my stilettos.
The ripped jeans and faded T-shirt that lived in every sinful fantasy I’d had since that night were gone. In their place was a perfectly pressed suit covering every inch of male muscle I knew felt good against my skin.
My mystery man seemed no less happy to see me than I was him. And looking back, I really should have seen it earlier.
The doorbell rang, pulling me from my thoughts. Getting up, I pulled my earbuds out, happy to hear things had quieted upstairs.
With the picture I hadn’t let go of since they’d given it to me in my hand, I opened the door and was met with the steely gray eyes that belonged to the man I’d met five weeks ago, my baby daddy and father-in-law to my best friend, none other than Dalton Brockmann.
And boy, did he look pissed.
