Page 8 of The Worst Man

Four

Through bleary, tired eyes, I glanced up at Hank’s handsome face as he stared down at me with his own eyes brimming with something that appeared a whole hell of a lot like happiness. Frankly, it was hard for me to adequately place his expression since it wasn’t one I’d ever seen him wearing before tonight.

This evening, I realized, was turning out to be quite the revelation where he was concerned. I didn’t know if I could ever go back to thinking about him the way I’d done for the past three years. Ever since he’d first challenged me to a drink off—which I’d won, by the way—he’d been delivering one pleasant surprise after another, culminating in him paying for a complete stranger’s wedding.

After our friends had ditched us, instead of going back to our hotel, by mutual agreement we’d hit up another bar where we’d made new friends. Specifically, Beatrice and Gloria, two forty-something lesbians who, after pretending to be roommates for the last twenty years, had decided to give their staunchly conservative families the proverbial finger and had run off to Vegas to get married. Their elopement had been a spur of the moment decision just that morning, so they’d had no one to stand up for them as they exchanged their vows.

Which Hank had found inordinately sad. With his lips turned down in a from, he’d said, “Everyone deserves to have someone who’s always in their corner.” From there, he’d pulled out his phone and his black Amex card, paid everyone’s bar tab, ordered a stretch limo, and offered to be Gloria’s best man. With tears in her eyes, she’d graciously accepted.

At which point Beatrice had turned to me and said, “Well, that’s settled then. You’re going to be my maid of honor.” I didn’t like to brag, but Hank and I had been the best damn bridesmaid and groomsmen Elvis had ever seen. He’d told us so, and Elvis never lied. Or maybe that was Santa. With the amount of liquor I had consumed tonight, I was having difficulty keeping it all straight.

Now we were standing outside chapel, my back against the wall, and Hank looming over me while we waited for the limo to circle back around to pick us up and take us back to the hotel. While I’d had the most fun I’d had in ages, the difference in time zones and the booze I’d consumed were catching up with me. I was ready to change out of my work clothes, take a long, hot shower, and then slip between the cool cotton sheets. In the meantime, I had to try to not pass out until I was back in my room.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Hank said, lifting his hand to my cheek and cupping it in his palm. His thumb ghosted slowly over my bottom lip. “Has anyone ever told you how fucking pretty you are?” he asked, dropping his head forward so his mouth hovered near my temple.

I blinked, long and slow, not sure if I’d heard him correctly. Was this really happening, or if I had fallen asleep and was now dreaming about Hank Talbot seducing me? Either should have been alarming, but somehow, it … wasn’t. Strangely, it felt right. Good.

My eyelids fluttered open. “Did you just call me pretty?”

He chuckled lightly and his thumb dipped between my lips. Without conscious thought, I let my tongue dart out to taste him.

Hank groaned and rested his forehead against mine. “God, Miranda. I want you so fucking bad right now.”

“You do?” I asked, feeling my stomach drop. It was like all night we’d been cresting the biggest, tallest hill on the most frightening roller coaster ever built, and we’d finally reached the top and now we were falling, falling, falling. I didn’t know if I was terrified or exhilarated. Probably a little bit of both, if I was being honest.

But it wasn’t just my belly that was reacting to his words. My heart thumped wildly in my chest and down below, my pussy ached with near feral desire. One tiny taste of him, and I suddenly wanted more. God, I was practically salivating over the idea of Hank pushing me up against this wall and shoving his cock so deep inside of me that I’d feel it the next day.

Whoa.

I sucked in a breath and settled my palm to his chest and pushed him back. I needed space to think, and with him this close, there was no way that was happening. Technically, I suppose you could say that I was thinking—just not at all rationally. Because right now all my thoughts were centered on one thing only: how badly I needed to come.

I wasn’t even sure it was about him so much as it was about just needing to get laid. It had been over a year since anyone had touched me, and I was so goddamn hungry for physical affection that even inebriated I was concerned that I was jumping into another situation where I was giving sex away freely because I craved intimacy. That, I reasoned, was the source of my suddenly overwhelming desire.

“You don’t even like me,” I pointed out once he’d taken a step back.

“Sex doesn’t have to be about liking someone. It can just be about needing them, and fuck Miranda, I need you so damn badly right now. Say you’ll come back to my room when the limo gets here.”

“Do you need me, or do you just need to get off?” I asked, my voice laced with challenge.

“Does it matter?” He advanced on me like an animal stalking its prey.

I pressed my back up against the wall in a reflexive gesture that immediately rang false. I wasn’t afraid of Hank. I wasn’t trying to hide from him so much as I was fighting against the sudden shift between us.

His palms slapped hard against the bricks near my head, and his strong arms caged me in on either side. His eyes flicked wildly between mine for a few protracted seconds, and dimly I wondered which one of us was caged and who was truly free. In a flash, I realized that he was holding a tight rein on the desires that were riding him, but the strong alpha that lurked inside a man like Hank was seconds away from breaking free of its leash.

I’d been unable to accept that side of Samuel, but standing here with this man, his hungry gaze locked firmly on mine, I wanted to know what it would feel like to be mastered by him. How it would feel to just let go, and give myself to a man who knew how to give and take pleasure as well as he knew how to breathe.

As those questions flitted dangerously through my consciousness, he dropped his face slowly forward. With his mouth hovering enticingly close, my labored breaths passed from my mouth and into his and then back out again. As I breathed, so did he, and the most maddening thought came to me then: co-exist or perish.

“Yes, it matters,” I whispered into the space between us as I pictured him hefting me into his arms and pulling my legs tight around his waist. My cotton between my legs grew damp, and I swore I could feel him pressed against my core.

Even as I fought whatever was happening between us, I recognized its inevitability. We’d been circling each other for years, all of our taunts and insults a type of extended foreplay I could only acknowledge now. With passion coursing between us as hot and heavy as the blood that pumped through our veins, I had to admit the truth to myself: I wanted Hank Talbot like I’d never wanted anyone else before.

“Why?” His nose brushed against the side of mine, a whisper soft caress that raised goosebumps along my whole body.

“Because I don’t want to be just another notch on your bedpost,” I answered with as much honesty as I could muster. “I want it to mean something.”

He dropped a feather light kiss against my lips. “It will mean something. It’ll mean that I wanted you badly enough to put all of our bickering aside to show you the best damn night of your life.” He peppered my face with more tender kisses, continuing down past my jaw and eventually reaching the hollow of my neck before heading back up again to my ear. “Let me make you feel good, Miranda.”

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