Page 47 of The Wedding Wrecker

Her phone started buzzing.

"Ignore it," I muttered against her skin.

It buzzed again. And again.

"It's Maggie," she breathed. "She'll just keep calling."

"Fuck." I pressed my forehead to hers, trying to catch my breath.

"I should..." She gestured vaguely at her phone.

"Yeah." I rolled off her, already missing her warmth. "I'm going to shower."

I practically fled to the bathroom, turning the water on cold. It didn't help. All I could think about was Emma's soft sounds, the way she'd felt under me.

I gave up on suppressing my arousal and turned the shower handle to warm.

The water heated up, and so did my thoughts. I remembered the curves of her body in that silk top, how she'd arched when I kissed her neck. I pictured where things might have gone if we weren’t interrupted.

My hand wrapped around my cock as I imagined her legs around my waist, her nails on my back.

I stroked myself, remembering the little gasp she'd made when I ground against her. In my mind, I was still on top of her, but now I was sliding into her tight heat while she moaned my name.

"Fuck," I groaned, speeding up my strokes. I imagined her coming apart beneath me, crying out as she clenched around me.

My release hit hard, Emma's name on my lips.

As I stood under the spray, catching my breath, reality crashed back in. I was investigating her sister's fiancé. I didn’t believe in love anymore. I wasn’t capable of trust.

I was damaged goods, and a girl like Emma would never settle for somebody who could only give her scraps of himself.

This thing between us was doomed before it ever started, and yet…

I wasn’t sure I had the strength to stop myself if this kept up. She was too damn tempting. I needed to figure something out, though, or I was going to lead us both to disaster.

16

EMMA

"You made out with the wedding wrecker?" Maggie's shriek made me hold the phone away from my ear. "The same guy who destroyed your career? The one you had hot wine cellar sex with right before he ruined everything? Actually, no. We're doing this face to face. FaceTime me right now."

"I'm in bed," I whispered.

"Even better. I want to see your guilty face when you tell me everything. And maybe catch a glimpse of Mr. Muscles in the background."

"He's in the shower." But I switched to video anyway, if only to see Maggie's expression when I filled her in.

Her face popped up on screen, brown eyes wide with excitement. Maggie and I were college dorm mates, way back when I was taking business classes and still thought I wanted to run a real estate empire. She took most of the same classes, and now she was using her business degree to run a coffee flavor-blasting business from her garage. Basically, she worked up delicious mixtures that came in “shot tubes,” which were, of course,biodegradable. Her customers could dump one into their coffee to supercharge it.

The business wasn’t exactly an overnight success, but she seemed happy enough and said this was shaping up to be her best year yet.

She pushed up her glasses, leaning closer to the camera and squinting, as if she was inspecting me for clues. Maggie looked a bit nerdy at first glance—with big eyes and a rounded face with full cheeks. Beneath the bookish exterior, she was wild, and the life of every social event I’d ever been to with her.

"Okay, spill,” she said. “Start with how he showed up. And don't skip the abs—are they still spectacular?"

I glanced at the closed bathroom door, where the shower was still running. "I'm not discussing his abs."

"So that's a yes." She leaned closer to her phone. "Your face is all flushed. Oh my god, did you just?—"

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