Last Groom Standing

by Kimberly Lang

  “Tea is fine.”

  Marnie disappeared around a corner, and Dylan stood in the middle of the room, feeling a little uncomfortable now. It was an unusual feeling, and not one he was accustomed to. And while he might be sure he’d made the right decision to come, he still didn’t have a clear answer for himself as to why he was here. He needed to come up with one pretty quick, as Marnie was bound to assume there was a reasonable explanation for his appearance.

  Maybe she wouldn’t ask.

  Framed photos on tables and shelves caught his attention, and he studied them as he ran through a list of possible reasons. From the pictures, Marnie was well-rounded and happy. Lots of friends. She was well traveled, too, as landmarks like the Arc de Triomphe and Diamond Head were recognizable backgrounds. There was a picture of an older couple—Marnie favored the woman, so he assumed those were her parents. If he remembered correctly from the other night, her father had died of an illness while she was still in high school and her mother had been killed in a car accident shortly after she’d graduated from college. Normally, those kinds of tragedies would bond siblings closer together, but Marnie and Carter bordered on estranged. He wondered how that would work out now that Gina and Carter were together.

  On another shelf, there was a picture he recognized, as Reese had the exact same one at her place: a snapshot of a much younger Awesome Foursome, casual and smiling, taken at their shared house at Hillbrook ten years ago.

  “Don’t laugh,” Marnie said as she returned. She carried a tray with two glasses of ice, a pitcher of tea with lemon slices floating in it, and a small plate of cookies. “I know my hair is ridiculous. It was a phase.”

  “We all have those photos,” he said. As Marnie set the tray down on the coffee table and he got a good look at it, he ended up biting back a laugh. There was a doily under the cookies and crisply folded cloth napkins to the side of the tray. “I didn’t mean for you to go to this much trouble.”

  She shrugged one shoulder as she sat on the opposite end of the sofa—facing him, but from a very respectable distance. “Old habits die hard. It’s a little prissy, I know, but my mother would rise from her grave to haunt me if I just slapped cookies on a naked plate and served them to a guest.” She laughed. “And since I have so many other unladylike habits, I’m kind of hoping that the occasional doily might help balance the scale and mitigate my guilt.”

  “That sounds...” he searched for the right word and when one didn’t appear, settled on “reasonable.”

  “Oh, it’s completely insane and I know it. But—” she looked him in the eye “—sometimes we do things just because we want to—but without really knowing why we want to—and the resultant guilt isn’t always a rational response that can be dealt with in a practical, pragmatic manner.”

  That had been an unexpected twist of the conversation. He had to give her credit for acknowledging the elephant in the room, though, plus bonus points for doing so in such a tactful way. However... “Guilt is a waste of time. Especially when you have nothing to feel guilty for.”

  “Maybe guilt isn’t the right word, then. How about a mild case of regret for possibly hasty and unwise choices?” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she sighed. “Dylan, I thought you said we were just going to forget it happened.”

  “That seems like the smart thing to do.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  Damn it. He picked up his glass, stalling for time as he searched for the answer. He was a practical, pragmatic man, with a reputation for calm, dispassionate rationality. Yet he was here, with absolutely no good reason—other than he wanted to be. He settled for honesty. “I’m having a bit of trouble with the forgetting part.”

  “So you came here to...” Marnie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, then she sat up so straight it looked like she had a broomstick for a spine. “I can see where my previous behavior might lead you to believe differently, but you’re mistaken if you think that means you can just show up here and expect me to—”

  “Whoa, there. That’s not what I meant.”

  Her posture relaxed slightly, but the suspicious look remained. “Then what did you mean?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure,” he confessed. It wasn’t like he could dig the hole he was in any deeper.

  Marnie nodded. “Chemistry. I fully admit I feel it, too, and it’s just as baffling to me.”

  “Well, that helps. I thought I was just losing my mind.”

  “You should have just said that up front.”

  “What?”

  “It explains why you’re here.” His confusion must have shown on his face, because she laughed. “You like things controlled and orderly, and this is neither. It was great sex, just with the wrong person.” This baldly pragmatic side of Marnie was yet another revelation. And a huge relief. Even if it was completely absurd in this situation. “I never understood how people could claim they were just swept away by the passion, even when they knew it wasn’t a great idea. I do now.” There was a dark undertone to her words he didn’t quite understand—especially since she’d been so adamant about the need for passion. She rolled her eyes. “You know, we’re adults and no one got hurt.”

  The words made perfect sense, but his body wasn’t buying in. “I guess the question is what are we going to do about it now?”

  “I like you, Dylan, so try not to take this the wrong way, but, you and me? We’re not compatible out of bed. This can’t go anywhere.”

  Once again, there was an insult in there, but since he happened to agree with her, the insult went both ways. Plus, it was ridiculous to be offended by the truth. “Very true.”

  “So we should just ride it out—” She winced and color crept up her neck. The visual that jumped to his mind at her words had him feeling warm, as well. She cleared her throat. “I mean, wait it out. Ignore it until it dies.”

  Marnie stood and her voice turned brisk and professional, which, considering the situation, took “baldly pragmatic” straight in to “absurd.” “I’m so glad we took the opportunity to talk this over. It will be much easier going forward now, because I really am looking forward to doing y—working with you,” she corrected, turning an even deeper shade of red.

  He’d managed—admirably, he thought—to keep his libido in check, even as the conversation focused on how good the sex was, even if it was a bad idea. But Marnie’s stumbling over her words spoke volumes about where her thoughts had gone and it had an instant effect on him.

  He stood, as well. “All right, then.”

  “Right.” Marnie’s eyes flicked down to where his erection was reaching for her, tenting his pants. Almost absently, she moistened her lips, and he could practically feel her tongue touching him. “I’m so glad we had this talk.”

  “You said that already.”

  “I know.” She swallowed hard, and he could see her nipples pressing against the soft cotton T-shirt as her fingers drummed her thigh. “You know what?”

  His blood was thrumming in his ears. “What?”

  “I think I’d rather ride it out.”

  The relief was immediate, followed quickly by a wave of lust so strong it caused his hands to shake. “Oh, thank God.”

  Marnie’s grin was wicked as she reached for him.

  SIX

  Dylan’s mouth was, quite possibly, the most amazing thing on God’s green earth. His lips could be soft and demanding at the same time, his tongue wicked and promising. It was instantly intoxicating and addictive and her knees went weak.

  Marnie wasn’t sure what was possessing her, but she’d never been at so much of a loss to control herself. It was dangerous and scary in its strength, but she was happy to let it guide her, nonetheless.

  Whatever it was, it was real and powerful, and more important, it was honest. And since they were both honest about it, she could abandon herself to it without regret or remorse.

  Dylan’s hands spanned her waist, anchoring her against him and sending a thrill over her skin.
When his lips moved to her neck, her legs gave out completely, and Dylan caught her as she sagged, leaning her against the wall and holding her there with the weight of his body and caging her inside his arms.

  Oh, bliss. The need to touch him had nearly overpowered her earlier, but she’d fought it back until he kissed her. Now, she gave in to that urge, indulging herself as she let her hands roam over his arms and shoulders, feeling the strength and virility most would be surprised to find under a clean-cut attorney’s coat and tie.

  He reminded her of an Olympic swimmer, his muscles long and lean and deceptively strong as he lifted her off her feet and supported her weight easily. Her legs hooked around his waist, and the groan that came from deep within his chest made her feel bold and powerful.

  Her bedroom was right off the living room, and Dylan carried her to the bed and placed her gently on her back. He braced himself on his arms, hovering over her, and she could feel her back arching toward him like a filing to a magnet. Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt, wanting to see and feel, but she was clumsy and slow and glad when he pushed to his knees to take over.

  Shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it to the floor, he lifted her to a sitting position and reached for the hem of her T-shirt. She lifted her arms, and the shirt was whisked over her head to land on the floor on top of his.

  It was the middle of the afternoon, with sunlight streaming through the windows, and she was half-naked across her bed with the sexiest man in the city. There was a brief moment of feeling exposed and self-conscious, but then she caught Dylan’s expression, and his slow, appreciative perusal chased the moment away.

  She was burning, wanting more. She reached for his belt buckle, but Dylan stopped her hand. Confused, she looked up, and the wicked, sexy grin nearly did her in.

  “This time, we go slow.”

  There was a promise in those words that caused her thighs to clench and her breath to catch. She hadn’t had time to think or appreciate before. And while she didn’t want to think too much, she did want to appreciate—more like revel, actually—in each and every moment.

  Dylan, who always looked so suave and aloof, certainly didn’t look so now: shirtless, his hair mussed from her fingers, eyes hooded and dark... He seemed almost predatory.

  And she was happy to be his prey.

  The frenetic rush was replaced by a driven, purposeful, and oh-so-thorough exploration of her skin. His mouth followed his hands over her collarbone, over her breasts, teasing nipples into hard points and wringing whimpers from her throat.

  When his mouth came back to hers, she threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him there, letting his mouth devour hers.

  It was an endless kiss, punctuated by small moans and the feel of skin on skin. Her skin felt hot but tingly, and she could feel Dylan’s heart beating a rapid tempo against her chest.

  Something in his response spurred her, and she tangled her legs in his, rolling them both over until she was on top, pressed against him from breast to ankle. Dylan groaned, sliding his hands down her back to her butt, slipping under the waistband of her leggings to knead the muscles while pressing her against the hard ridge behind his zipper.

  She echoed his earlier movements, nipping at the hard muscles in his neck, letting her tongue dip into the hollow of his throat before sliding downward to map the ridges of his pecs. Dylan hissed as she flicked her tongue over his nipple, and his fingers gripped her harder.

  Dylan inhaled sharply as she followed the thin line of hair to his navel, and his hands tangled in her hair as she worked the snap of his jeans. She felt powerful and sexy as she worked his jeans off, and the newfound boldness seemed right—and appreciated by Dylan.

  Mercy, he was just gorgeous, and Marnie was now glad she’d left the blinds open and not hidden this sight in darkness. Long powerful legs, lean hips, and a torso that should be cast in bronze and preserved for the ages. She let herself take a long, appreciative wander with her hands and eyes, wondering if she was about to drool—but not really caring if she did.

  When her eyes finally reached his, the heat there nearly scorched her. Then, with a sexy half grin, Dylan pulled her down onto the bed beside him.

  After another kiss that curled her toes, Dylan leaned close to her ear. “My turn,” he growled.

  In a flash, her leggings were gone, and Dylan was moving slowly up her body, finding that sensitive place behind her knee, dropping a kiss on her inner thigh, nipping at her hipbone...

  She went up in flames.

  Oh, it was the best kind of torture—ongoing, complete, taking her right to the edge before ebbing back, leaving her gasping and wanting more. She grabbed the slats of the headboard, anchoring herself, as Dylan drove her further, higher, until nothing mattered except the pleasure.

  And just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, Dylan was kissing her again, sliding slow and deep inside her until their hips met. She reached for his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him tight as he started to move—slowly at first, then faster as the pressure began to build and their breath became ragged.

  When everything exploded, she could only hold on as the tremors nearly shook her apart, and she only vaguely heard Dylan’s groan as he joined her there.

  * * *

  The room had grown dark, with only the last rays of sunshine providing any light. Marnie was draped over him, her breath ragged again, skin slick with sweat. She mumbled something against his neck.

  He’d never been so physically drained and completely spent, but he managed to lift one hand enough to move her hair out of his face. “What?”

  Her head shifted an inch to the left. “I don’t think I can move.”

  “Then don’t.” She wasn’t heavy, and she made an erotic blanket.

  “But my leg is cramping.”

  He groaned as he mustered the energy to help roll her off, and she flopped onto her back with a contented sigh, one arm draped dramatically against her forehead as she stretched.

  “You are certainly full of surprises, Dylan Brookes. That was...insane.”

  An hour ago, that would have caused him to reach for her again, but even though her words caused his blood to stir, he simply could not do anything about it. “You’re pretty impressive yourself, Miss Price.”

  They lay there quietly as the shadows lengthened, and the depletion began to give way to drowsiness. But while the quiet had, at first, been comfortable, the continuing silence began to take on an air of uneasiness.

  “Dylan?” The question was softly asked, but weighty.

  He sighed. “Yes?”

  “You certainly don’t have to leave, but I’m not going to ask you to stay the night, either.” She directed her words to the ceiling.

  “I see.” The onus was now on him. “What’s your preference?”

  “All things considered, I think it’s wiser for you to go.”

  She’d dodged the question, but he had an answer nonetheless. “Do I need to leave now, or can I recuperate for a few more minutes?”

  “Don’t be like that.”

  He was exhausted and not in the mood for games. “Like what, Marnie?”

  She rolled her head to the side to look at him. “You said yourself that you’re looking to get married, and we both know that’s not going to happen here.”

  “I don’t recall asking you to marry me.”

  “Of course not. But if that is what you’re after, you’re not going to find the right woman waiting in my bed.”

  “Maybe I’m not looking at the moment. I just got out of a relationship. Maybe I want to be a free agent for a while.”

  “You’re not my type, you know.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “But I know I’m not your type, either.”

  “Very true.”

  “At the same time...damn.” It was an appreciative “damn”—stretched out to at least three syllables and containing the letter “y”—but then she shook her head. “Look, I’m just try
ing to do the right thing here. For both of us.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Marnie, after what we’ve just done together, I can’t do word puzzles right now. Say it. Small words, simple sentences.”

  An eyebrow went up, and her mouth twisted. “Fine. I only want you for your body. That’s all.”

  “Okay.”

  Her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. It was almost funny. “What do you mean, ‘okay’?”

  “I mean, I’m okay with that.” Her confused expression only deepened. It was an unusual situation, but far from unheard of. And he found it very appealing. “I don’t want you long-term any more than you want me. But as you said... Damn. That’s enough for me right now.”

  He watched the play of emotions on her face as she processed his words. Finally, she shook her head. “You really are full of surprises.”

  “And I’m way too exhausted to get out of this bed right now.”

  “Then rest.” Marnie patted him on the arm in a mock soothe. Then the corner of her mouth twitched. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll need your energy for later.”

  * * *

  Julia called Monday with the job offer, just as Dylan had said she would. Reese took Marnie to dinner to celebrate. Dylan met her at her place later that night for another, more intimate and sweaty celebration.

  On Tuesday, Marnie went shopping for new clothes more appropriate to her new position. Three different times she reached for her phone to call Dylan, and three times she put it away. It was tough, because she was craving Dylan like a drug.

  You can’t spend every free minute in Dylan’s bed. Pity.

  On Wednesday morning, she was officially employed again, getting the full tour of the offices, meeting the staff, and being brought up to speed.

  It was a lot coming at her very quickly, but Marnie loved every minute of it. She’d only been unemployed a little over a week, but she’d missed working. She needed to work. It gave her a purpose and an identity.

  She ate lunch at her new desk, filling out the endless forms of all new employees before turning her attention to prepping for the meeting she had with Julia in half an hour regarding the Foundation’s big fund-raiser. It was only two weeks away, and it was going to be the majority of her focus until then.