Best Man with Benefits Read online

  “You still hate me.”

  “I don’t,” I said, and there it was. The scent. My skin tingled again, goose bumps ran rampant up and down my arms. They betrayed my desire for him. My cheeks heated.

  This was ridiculous! He wasn’t even standing that close to me.

  “You don’t,” he said, pronouncing both words in obvious disbelief. “That’s not what Charlie told me.”

  “You spend a lot of time talking to my brother about me?”

  “Not as much as I’d like,” he replied, but his smile flickered and faded. “That’s a lie. I’d rather not talk to Charlie about you.”

  “Because then you’d have to tell him, right?”

  There was a brief silence. The elevator’s dial ticked toward the fifth floor, the moments passing between us. “You look amazing, Chloe.” It was a genuine remark.

  “Thanks.” I tried putting bitterness behind the word. It was difficult, but it shouldn’t have been—he’d taken my virginity then disappeared. Gone off to another country. Yet, here I was, struggling to maintain my anger.

  It was the Jacob King effect.

  “You think I look good too,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “I can see it on your face. You think I look damn good too. That’s why you’re acting like this.”

  “Like what?” I folded my arms across my breasts.

  “Awkward. Like you’re ready to jump right out of your skin or climb through the roof to get away from me.”

  I cleared my throat. “Glad to see you’re still arrogant.”

  “Cocky.” He stepped closer, the scent of his cologne flooding the space. It wasn’t too strong, not even intrusive, but it still took control of me. And his presence was worse. Or better.

  God, this was confusing. My pussy throbbed.

  “You always liked that about me,” he said. “You called it confidence.”

  “Now I know it was bullshit.” I slipped past him. The elevator doors had opened, thank god, and I moved out and into the hallway, strode down it and withdrew the keycard for my room from my handbag.

  Keep it together. Ignore him. Don’t look back.

  I reached my room door and lifted my card.

  “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other in the next week,” he said, behind me.

  I froze, the card poised. I peeked back at him. My nipples could already cut glass at this point, and it had nothing to do with the slight chill from the air-conditioning in the hallway. “We’ve already agreed to be civil.”

  “You know I never want to be civil with you,” he said.

  I turned my back to the door and pressed up against it, leaning back and bringing out my cocky stare in return to his. Or trying to. His smirk told me it hadn’t worked.

  “You never want to be civil with me?” I asked. “What does that even mean? You want to fight?”

  “No.” Man, he was attractive—warm brown eyes and matching espresso hair, cut perfectly. Not too long, and not slicked back either, but styled to one side. Stubble along his jaw. And so tall. So strong.

  “Then what?” I asked.

  He leaned a forearm against the doorjamb and pressed his forehead to mine. It was an incredibly intimate move, but I didn’t shirk it off. I leaned into it. Like an idiot.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, already drunk on his scent, on the tension that had ridden high between us since he’d walked in on me earlier. “Jacob, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “You asked me what I wanted, and I’m showing you.”

  “Huh?”

  His hand brushed along my cheek, cupped it. His nose touched the tip of mine. “You, Chloe. I want you.”

  Three

  Jacob

  Bad idea. Worst idea in the history of ideas. Apart from meatloaf. I fucking hated meatloaf. It was a loaf of meat, for fuck’s sake. Who’d thought that was the shit back in the day?

  The thought was extraneous, a tumbleweed rolling through a deserted mind. The rest of them had been banished by the heat of her skin against my palm, the scent of her perfume, soft and coconut-inspired, and the need in her eyes.

  There was so much there.

  Doubt, desire, a hint of anger.

  “Jacob,” she said, and that was it. Too much.

  How the fuck was I supposed to resist her?

  I lowered my lips to hers and tasted her for the first time in over ten years, my throat tightening, my muscles along with it. My cock was rock hard, pressing painfully against the front of my pants, begging to be free. To be welcomed home inside her warmth.

  Our tongues collided, and Chloe moaned, arched into me, grasping handfuls of my hair and pulling at me, both dragging me closer and pushing simultaneously.

  I moved my hands over her throat, down to her breasts, and cupped them through the blouse and bra, picturing her naked again.

  Stop this. You know this isn’t going to end well. Stop it right now, King!

  I pulled back from the kiss as fast as I’d taken it.

  Chloe collapsed against her door, lips shining wet, breath ragged. “What the fuck,” she said.

  “What the fuck,” I agreed. “Perhaps it would be better if we stayed out of each other’s way.”

  “Agreed,” she said.

  I bent and lifted her hotel room keycard from the taupe carpet and handed it to her. Our fingers brushed, and there was a moment of indecision. The image of her pressed against the door, one leg around me, my dick inside her, filling her, distracted me from the facts.

  That we couldn’t get involved again. That I had too much to deal with. That Charlie could appear at the end of that hall at any moment.

  Chloe swiped the card through the slot in the lock then opened the door and practically stumbled inside. She gave me one last wide-eyed look then shut it in my face.

  What the fuck just happened?

  My cock throbbed, angry at the lack of action. I strode down the hall, dragging my keycard out of my pocket. My room was directly next door to hers. Didn’t help the boner—it would be on my mind the entirety of our stay.

  Chloe right next door. Chloe showering. Chloe touching herself.

  I entered my room and slapped the door shut, growling under my breath. I slammed into the bathroom, dragging my zipper down. My cock was out immediately, and I spat in my hand, smoothed it over my head, jerked at the pleasure that shot through me.

  Christ, I was wet for her.

  I hadn’t been this turned on in years. Not since…fuck, not since I’d been with her when we’d been dumbass high-school kids.

  “Chloe,” I murmured, but a noise from the room next door interrupted me. I slowed my pace, loosening my grip on my cock, and moved to the wall.

  Had that been…?

  A soft moan sounded. Chloe’s moan.

  She was in there, fingering herself for me right now. She was doing exactly what I was. She needed it as much as I did.

  The urge to march right back down that hall and take her nearly overwhelmed me.

  Don’t do it. Stay where you are.

  Another moan, louder this time. “Jacob,” she said. “Yes. Oh my god.”

  How close was she to coming? Was she as close as I was? What was she picturing?

  An image rose in my mind, her perfect ass laid bare, my dick entering her warmth from behind, glistening from the combination of our juices. She tightened around me, came hard while I snagged my fingers through her hair and pulled.

  “Fuck,” I muttered and worked my cock again, spitting on it to imitate how Chloe would feel. I was ready in seconds, the image of her driving me closer and closer to my orgasm. My balls tightened up, and the shuddering started. My hips thrust forward, out of control. I slipped my hand over the head of my dick and caught it all, angry at the fact that I couldn’t empty this into her instead. Make her mine. Show her that nothing had changed.

  That I still wanted her.

  And you still can’t have her.

  It was the fastest I’d rubbed
one out too, and the desire for her hadn’t abated. Needing Chloe would always be a thing I had to deal with.

  I cleaned up then entered into the bedroom. White sheets, king-sized beds, gray armoires with mirrors inlaid into their fronts. It was a decorator’s wet dream, but it was lost on me. I sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress and bowed my head, the pressure of what was to come weighing on me.

  It didn’t matter how crazy Chloe made me—I couldn’t afford to act on those desires. Especially not this weekend.

  My phone rang, and I worked it out of the pocket of my pants. “This is King.”

  “It’s Agent Smith, Mr. King.”

  I got a laugh out of the name every time I heard it. “Oh yeah? Agent Nondescript wasn’t around?”

  “Are you ready?”

  “No, I’m not ready. Ready for what?”

  Agent Smith sighed. He wasn’t a fan of my humor, and I didn’t blame him for it. I’d given him uphill, even though he was my way out. The FBI had contacted me months ago, right after I’d ended my relationship with Carolina, and I’d been working with them ever since. It was the right thing to do, but I’d made it clear that my buddy’s wedding was off-limits.

  “They’re moving.”

  “Kindly stop with the agent-speak,” I replied. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Agent Smith gave another of those sighs, fraught with impatience. “Mr. King, this might not be what you want to hear, but we have information from Interpol that has brought…issues to light.”

  “What type of issues?”

  “It appears that Pritchard is making his move. Now. In Paris.”

  “Fuck off,” I said. “Why would he do that?”

  “Perfect opportunity. It’s overseas, so he assumes it’s safer. He has contacts in France. You’re a sitting duck. So is the rest of your wedding party. I’m going to suggest that you—”

  “We agreed that the operation could wait until after the wedding,” I said, stiffly. I always got what I wanted, without fucking fail, and I had wanted this wedding to go off without a hitch. Charlie wanted this. He deserved this. He’d found someone who loved him rather than his money.

  “I’m afraid that that’s no longer an option,” Smith said. “Mr. King, if there were any other way to handle this, we’d do it, but there isn’t. We’re going to have to move everyone into position, now, before he slips from our grasp. You were aware that this was a possibility when you left for France. We debriefed you about Pritchard’s movements and his intents.”

  I kept silent, anger bubbling beneath the surface.

  “I’ll be in touch with more details later. For now, keep your head down, and try not to draw any attention to yourself. Try to be invisible.”

  “Have you seen me?” I commanded attention without meaning to.

  “Come up with something. If you want to avoid disaster, Mr. King, you’re going to have to keep your head low.”

  “What does that mean for the plan? Is it still the same?” I asked. “Does Paris change it?”

  “Slightly. Like I said, I’ll be in touch.” And then he hung up.

  I dropped the phone from my ear and into my lap, gritting my teeth. If Charlie’s moment was fucked because of me… Shit, and Chloe was here. Chloe.

  Let it go. Do what the man said.

  But how the fuck was I supposed to remain low-key when there were bachelor parties to attend? Wedding dinners and functions that involved a lot of people? People who might know Pritchard, who might drop hints or crumble under pressure?

  Christ, how had I wound up in this situation in the first place?

  And Chloe…

  I couldn’t handle the thought of anything happening to her. I’d rip a man limb from limb if he came near her. Easy there, tiger. That’s the past you. Not the present you.

  Shit was too complicated.

  A knock rattled my door, and I pushed off the bed.

  I opened up, half-expecting Chloe to be there, though it was an irrational thought. Instead, it was Charlie, smiling at me like he was the happiest man alive.

  “There you are, dude,” he said. “I thought we were meeting for lunch. Did you get Addy her inhaler?”

  “Yeah, she’s got it,” I replied, and checked my watch. “Shit, it’s that time already, huh? Time passes faster over here.”

  “Physically impossible, but OK. Are we going?” Charlie asked.

  Guilt beset me. This was my best friend since middle school, and I’d betrayed him by kissing his sister. By doing a lot more than that years ago.

  “Earth to Jacob. You in there?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Yeah. I’m coming, man. Let me grab my wallet.” I entered the suite and walked over to the bedside table.

  “So, how was Addy? Did you see her in the wedding dress? If you did, don’t tell me how she looks. We’re doing the whole surprise, bad luck deal.” Charlie was ridiculously upbeat. He had been since we’d arrived in Paris.

  “Addy’s great,” I said.

  The stress had melted from Charlie’s shoulders, and he’d become the dude I’d known back in college, who was hopeful about the world, about the future. I couldn’t fault him for that. I couldn’t understand it, but I couldn’t fault him.

  For the longest time, I’d been nothing but business. My last relationship attempt had been forced—a blind date that Addison had arranged, and it had turned out as expected. With me too busy to do anything but work, and Carolina angrier and angrier as time passed.

  There was one woman who’d given me feelings, who’d truly caught my attention, and she was off-limits.

  “Are you OK?” Charlie asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Just thinking about work.” I placed my wallet in my pocket then followed Charlie out of the room and down the hall. We passed Chloe’s room, and I tensed instinctively. If she came out now…but, no. Her room was silent. And I? Well, shit, I had to forget about her before this got any worse.

  Four

  Chloe

  Maid of honor or not, I had not been in charge of organizing the bachelorette party. That had fallen to a group vote, and it was part of the reason we were now seated in the hotel’s restaurant, watching as men set up a karaoke machine up front.

  It was my idea of a good time, sure—I wasn’t huge on drinking—but it would mean singing. And singing was another reminder of what I had waiting for me back home. A nine-to-five job that I couldn’t stand.

  “Oh my god,” Addison said, clapping her hands together as we entered the room.

  The whole restaurant had been bought out for the night, and it was decorated in style. A banner was draped across one end of the room, Addison’s name written on it in sparkling gold. The tables were themed similar to the wedding—rose, golds, and whites with floral centerpieces.

  “I love this, you guys!” Addison cried, and dragged me into a hug. “It’s so perfect. So classy.”

  “Madame, if you will please take your seat?” Our waiter, a guy in a button-down and a bowtie, bent and gestured to the long table close to the stage at the front. “The karaoke will be ready shortly, and the entrées have been prepared.”

  “Entrées!” Addy cooed.

  We sat down at the table that had been set up to hold all twenty of the bachelorette party attendees. Instantly, another pair of waiters appeared, carrying trays of champagne and starters I couldn’t identify. They placed them then hurried off again.

  “Now, that’s service,” I muttered.

  “Oh my gosh, you guys,” Addy said, as everyone took their places. “This is so amazing. I am so grateful that we’re all here together, right now.”

  The other women nodded or clapped their hands. They ranged from bridesmaids to old friends of Addy’s from her high school, to aunts, and even her mother, who had been enthusiastic about tagging along. Needless to say, there wouldn’t be any strippers appearing at this party.

  Not that I wanted to, uh, see strippers or anything. Or maybe I needed that, to erase Jacob and that
soul-destroying kiss, from my mind.

  “This is so totally the best,” Trisha, one of the bridesmaids I didn’t get along with, exclaimed. “Like, I never thought I would ever come to Paris. I, like, totally love traveling but this was the lowest place on my list. But now that I’m, like, here, it’s totally great. Totally.”

  “Totally,” I echoed, but the tone was lost on her.

  Trisha bobbed her head, and the furious red hair, cut in that pixie style that was oh-so-popular back in the 90s, barely moved. “Addy, you’re totally going to sing, right? I mean, we can’t do karaoke and then you don’t sing when you’re, like, the bride.”

  “Of course I’ll sing,” Addison replied and slurped down some champagne. “But not before Chloe sings. Actually, maybe Chloe should go last. We’ll all have a tough time following her.”

  “Stop,” I said, but warmth filled me. Most of Addy’s friends were pretty great, but it was a shock to me that some of them were like Trisha. Tone deaf or clueless or super narcissistic. Addison was a sweetheart and hardly attracted people like that.

  She knew how badly I wanted my career to take off, and she was always supportive of me, even when my brother couldn’t be. Though, she did give me the obligatory ‘Charlie speech’ on occasion.

  “Why do we have to wait for Chloe?” Trisha knocked back a full glass of champagne and set it down again. “Like, what’s the big deal?”

  “You don’t have to wait for me.” I sipped sparingly on my own glass of champagne. “In fact, I might not even sing tonight.”

  “No way.” Addison pointed at me, the bright pink boa we’d slung around her neck only slightly inhibiting the effect. “You’re singing. I’ve got to hear you, Chloe. Charlie brags about how well you sing.”

  “He does?” I asked. “But he doesn’t—you know what, never mind.”

  “Yeah, never mind,” Trisha put in. “I think I should go first.” She bobbled in her chair. “You guys will, like, love how—”

  “Chloe’s going first.” Addison drew a hand through the air. That effectively put an end to all argument. What the bride wanted, the bride got. The bonus was that Trisha looked as if she’d been slapped in the face with a truckload of rotten fish.