Falling for the Groomsman (Wedding Dare #1)(17)
Author: Diane Alberts

Even now, after having just left his side, she wanted to go back and crawl all over him. Sheer lunacy. What would it take to break his hold over her? Would she ever get over this incessant infatuation with Tyler Dresco?

Or would he forever haunt her?

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Tyler groaned and closed his eyes tight. Christine knelt at his feet, her glorious red hair brushing against his bare thighs. She rolled her tongue over his cock, moaning low in her throat. Fucking magical. “Don’t stop,” he moaned. “Harder.”

She pulled back, and he squeezed his eyes tighter. No, she couldn’t leave him again. Not now. Not when he needed her so damn much. If she ever tried to pull a stunt like that again…fuck, he’d go insane.

Maybe he already had.

He squeezed his eyes shut even more, turning off his thoughts. In his imagination, Christine’s hands worked over his cock, closing over the head and squeezing with the perfect amount of pressure. Pretending his hand was hers, he tugged on his shaft even harder, his breath escaping his lips in a whoosh.

In his mind, she closed her delicious lips over him, looking up at him with those blue eyes of hers, taking him in so deep he couldn’t breathe. Looking up at him as if he was the best thing on this f**king earth since peanut butter met jelly. He grunted and arched his hips higher, pumping into his hand. His balls drew closer to his body, tightening painfully, and he knew he was close.

He moved his hand faster, picturing Christine bent between his knees with her bare ass in the air. God, she was f**king gorgeous like that. In his mind, he cupped her perfect little ass and smacked it gently. She cried out, pressing closer and begging for more. Begging for him and only him.

With a tortured groan, he came with an explosive pleasure even he couldn’t believe had come from a fantasy. All from a dream that wasn’t real. He collapsed against the pillow, holding his other arm over his eyes to hide from the sunlight for another minute or two at the very least.

He’d spent the whole night tossing and turning with a raging hard-on. After waking up with his erection even more painfully obvious than when he’d fallen asleep, he’d finally decided he needed to take care of it himself. But he had a feeling even that hadn’t helped. If anything, it had made the discomfort worse.

He needed Christine, damn it.

He yawned, checked the time, and then cleaned himself off from his solo session. Damn it, he still felt like he hadn’t even closed his eyes at all. Of course, it wasn’t every night he got left high and dry by a certain investigative journalist who would probably ask him how he felt when she’d left, taking notes in her little notebook as she nodded her head.

And he’d tell her.

He felt f**king lousy.

A part of him had to wonder if this had all been planned on her part. If she’d deliberately set out to seduce him, get him all hot and horny, and then walk away. But he couldn’t believe she could be so cruel and calculated. Not his Christine. He didn’t think she could fake the panic he’d seen in her eyes as she clung to the doorknob.

She’d looked as if she was about to cry, scream, or both.

He kicked off the covers and then padded barefoot into the bathroom to turn the shower on. He was still hard as a rock. His body wasn’t satisfied with the half-assed replacement of his hand—and neither was he. But he was ready to face the day again, and he had a lot to figure out.

He’d hurt Christine, and he owed her a hell of a lot of ass-kissing to make up for it. But he wasn’t walking away. Not this time. Hearing what he already knew, how much he affected her, had hurt him more than he expected. But she wanted him anyway. There was no denying that. Nothing would stop him from winning her over now.

They weren’t over.

After showering and dressing in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, he picked up his wedding itinerary. When he got married, if he ever got married, it would be simple and low-key. No waltzes or scheduled meals or…what was today, anyway?

Ah, the scavenger hunt. Yeah, that wouldn’t work either.

He grabbed his gear and filled it with the few essentials he could scavenge from his hotel room. Maybe he would pack a sleeping bag and camp out under the stars tonight if the mood struck. Take a break from the incessant chattering and socializing and schmoozing. Just him and the stars. Hell, maybe he could even find a way to get Christine to camp out with him.

They could start over again.

Yeah, he had a better chance of seeing a pig fly wearing a purple f**king tutu than he did of convincing her that she should spend some quality one-on-one time with him. She’d made it pretty clear she wanted nothing to do with him after that come-and-run stunt she’d pulled last night.

Good thing he didn’t give up easily.

He threw in a bottle of vodka he’d bought at the store, collected his sleeping bag, and headed into the hallway. At this rate, he’d be lucky if he had enough time to grab a quick breakfast along the way. He would get to the meeting point, make certain he didn’t pair up with anyone besides Christine, and if that failed? Then he’d split on his own.

Drink. Think. Plan.

And by the time he was done, he’d know what to do with her. He walked in smooth, even strides and squared his shoulders, looking straight ahead for the first time in he didn’t even know how long. No more looking back for him.

The past was dead.

…

Once he grabbed a blueberry muffin and a black coffee from the coffee shop, he walked out into the bright sunlight and headed for the scavenger hunt. As Tyler bit into his meal, he studied the person walking in front of him. She looked familiar but he couldn’t quite…

Aw, hell no. She wasn’t that grown up, was she?

“Sophie?”

Sophie turned around and eyed him before smiling, walking backward. “If it isn’t my future brother-in-law himself, in the flesh. You’re late.”

“So are you,” he pointed out, taking another bite. “And you’re going to run into something if you don’t turn around.”

“Yes, father.” She rolled her eyes and spun around, walking beside him. “I lost track of time. You?”

He grinned. “I kind of slept in.”

She lit up her phone. “I’d say so. Rough night?”

“You could say that,” he muttered. “You enjoying yourself so far? Fitting in with the girls, causing trouble, and breaking hearts along the way?”

Sophie lifted a shoulder and gave him a small smile. “A girl never tells. How about you? Fitting in with the girls?”