Bad Boy's Bridesmaid(9)By: Sosie Frost
Was he planning to wear a wedding ring or handcuffs once this was over?
“I’m not eating anything,” I said. “Safe from crumbs.”
Bryce wasn’t smiling. “Doesn’t matter, man. No crumbs. No ink. No wrinkles. No nothing. Got it? Lindsey will have my balls if something happens to the tux.”
“Think she already has ‘em.”
“Name of the game. Just gotta power through until the wedding. That’s when the shopping and planning and the decorations and the stress stops.”
I laughed. “No…that’s when it all begins.”
He shrugged. “You wouldn’t understand. I don’t think you’ve been with a girl long enough to put her number in your cell.”
“But I don’t have to worry about crumbs, do I?”
Bryce left me to get dressed. “I guess. But it’s worth it. That’s what Lindsey says.”
I suited up in the formal garb, tossing on the pants and shoes. Those fit, but I didn’t think the shirt was supposed to be mine.
The shirt stretched, but I’d rip the material over my biceps and pop the buttons over my pecs if they expected me to wear it. While it’d make for a good show, Lindsey already warned me to keep my ink hidden. Apparently, both the Prescotts and my family thought the tattoos meant trouble. I was twenty-eight years old, and nothing changed from when I was a kid. The entire neighborhood had always worried for their daughters when I came around.
Well, only one girl had to worry.
And she was long past saving from my intentions.
So why the hell couldn’t I get her out of my mind? I still tasted her on my lips, felt her clinging to my shoulders, and shuddered with the memory of her pussy milking my cock.
Maybe it was because I knew her? We grew up together, though back then she was just the annoying kid her sister used to babysit. Lindsey, Bryce, and I had five years on her, so it was a surprise to see her become a beautiful and sexy woman with dangerous curves and a sweet smile.
The bedroom door kicked open. I held my hands up.
“I don’t have any fucking crumbs, Bryce!”
Mandy slammed the door behind her.
Oh, this wasn’t a friendly visit, and it certainly wouldn’t end with me pushed back onto the bed with her grinding against my lap.
A man could hope, but he also had to protect his boys in case the girl of his dreams happened to kick.
I grinned at her, half-naked. My arms crossed over my bare chest, flexing everything hard and inked for her inspection. My pants felt too tight, even with the button undone and the zipper down.
She took one look and stilled, eyes wide.
I winked. “If you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask, baby.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Mandy reached for the only weapon she could find—my tie. I laughed as she whipped it at me, flapping my chest with the black silk.
It wasn’t her most impressive showing, especially since I remembered her at five years old, making a summer snowball out of white legos. She’d pelted me, pitching it over the fence separating our yards. Still had the scar on my eyebrow.
I grabbed the tie in mid-air and tugged. She fell forward, and I wrapped the silk behind her back. Mandy gritted her teeth as I pulled her into my chest, but she couldn’t hide her quick little breath. Her hands danced over my chest, trying to settle on skin that wasn’t marked by a tribal tattoo.
Why wouldn’t she admit to wanting me too? It had been weeks since we spent the night together, and our game of hot and cold frustrated me.
“You did it on purpose!” Mandy hissed and untangled herself. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Making the invitations? Sending them tomorrow?”
“Thought it’d be fun.”
“Nate, by the time Lindsey fire-breathes her demands for these invitations, we won’t be able to find a UPS store or Kinkos in one hundred miles that will let us through the door. And, if we’re lucky enough to print them, we’ll be up all night trying to finish.”
I wrapped the tie around my neck and shrugged. “If I remember correctly, we had an all-nighter last time we were together. You didn’t complain then.”
“Is everything about sex to you?”
Was that a trick question? “Baby, you gotta know that was the greatest sex either of us has ever had.”
“It was a mistake.” Her voice hardened. “We never should have done it.”
“We never should have stopped.”
Every emotion looked good on her—anger, indignation, even shame, though I had no idea why she’d feel ashamed, or how desperately she’d try to hide it.
Christ, this woman was the best lay I ever had, and now she gave me balls bluer than the damn wedding invitations.