He Cheated With My Best Friend, So I Spent the Night With His Brother novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: One Night

Margot spends the night with the stranger, and at the engagement brunch the hostess announces her fiance's brother, Dominic.

His hotel was four blocks from the bar, a brick building on Front Street with a dim lobby and an elevator that took its time.

He pressed the button for the fifth floor and stood a careful foot away from me.

I took the foot away.

I grabbed his jacket with both hands and pulled his mouth down onto mine.

He made a low sound in his throat and kissed me back, hard, one hand spread across the back of my head.

His beard scraped my chin.

He tasted like beer and salt.

The elevator opened on an empty hallway, and he walked me backward all the way to his door without once taking his mouth off mine.

The key card failed twice.

I laughed against his neck, and he swore, and the third try worked.

Inside there was one lamp on and a bed with the covers still made.

He kicked the door shut.

"Take off the jacket," I said.

He took it off.

I pulled the ring off my finger, tape and all, and dropped it on the nightstand.

It rolled in a half circle and lay still.

"That's the last time I look at it tonight," I said.

"Good."

He unbuttoned my dress down the front, slowly, one button at a time, with the scarred knuckle brushing my skin each time.

I was tired of slow.

I shoved the dress off my shoulders and let it fall, and he stopped and looked at me in my bra and underwear.

"Christ," he said.

"Hurry up, Dom."

He lifted me by the thighs and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

He carried me to the bed and laid me down and pulled his shirt off over his head.

His chest was broad and covered in dark hair, and there was a long pale scar under his ribs.

I put my hand flat on it.

"Boat," he said. "Long story."

"Tell me later."

He unhooked my bra with one hand, and then his mouth was on my breast, hot and wet, his tongue circling my nipple until I arched off the sheets.

"Dom."

He moved to the other one, and his hand slid down my stomach and under the lace.

He pushed two fingers through the wet.

"You're soaked," he said against my skin.

"Because of you," I said. "Not him."

"Only me."

He worked my clit in slow circles, and my hips started to move without me.

He pulled my underwear down my legs and threw it somewhere behind him.

Then he knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed, pulled my hips to the edge of the mattress and put his mouth on my pussy.

I cried out and fisted both hands in his hair.

His tongue was flat and slow, and then it was fast, and he sucked my clit between his lips until my thighs shook around his head.

"Don't stop," I said. "Don't you dare stop."

He didn't.

He slid two fingers inside me and curled them, and the tongue and the fingers moved together until the pressure broke open and I came, loud, my back bowing off the bed.

He kept licking me through it until I pushed at his shoulders.

He stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I sat up, got my hands on his belt and pulled his jeans open.

His cock sprang out thick and hard, heavy in my palm, a drop of wetness already at the tip.

I licked it off.

He swore, long and low, and his hand tightened in my hair.

I took him into my mouth as deep as I could, and he groaned and tried to hold still.

"God, you're..." he started, and stopped.

He didn't know my name.

I hadn't told him.

I let him slide out of my mouth for a moment.

"You don't know what to call me," I said.

"No."

"Then call me what you like."

"Sweetheart," he said, and I felt the whole length of him jerk against my tongue.

He pulled out of my mouth and bent me back across the bed.

"Not yet," he said. "Not like that. I want to be inside you."

He found a condom in his bag and rolled it on, and I watched the whole thing with my knees open.

He lined himself up and pushed into me, one slow inch and then the rest, until his hips were flush against mine.

I gasped at the stretch.

He braced his arms on either side of my head and held there, shaking, his forehead against mine.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You feel like..."

"Move."

He pulled almost all the way out and drove back in, and I dug my nails into his back.

He set a pace and kept it, long, deep, his cock dragging in me on every stroke, and I met every one with my hips.

"Harder," I said.

He gave it to me.

The headboard hit the wall, and I did not care if the whole hotel heard it.

I thought of nothing at all, not a ring, not a loan, not a giggle on a phone.

He rolled us over so I was above him, his hands on my hips, and I rode him until my thighs burned.

"Look at me," he said, and I looked.

His gray eyes were dark and wide open.

I came again like that, clenching around his cock, and he followed a moment after, groaning "sweetheart" into my neck.

I lay on his chest afterward and listened to his heart slow down.

We did it a second time near dawn, slower, with the lamp still on.

When I woke at seven, the gray light was in the window and his arm was heavy across my waist.

He was asleep.

I slid out from under him, found my dress, my underwear and, on the nightstand, the ring.

I put it on.

The tape was loose, so I pressed it flat with my thumbnail.

I did not leave a note.

Brunch was at eleven, and I had a yellow dress waiting at home and a recording in my pocket.

At ten fifty-five, I stood at the door of the Greaves house in that dress, my hair still damp, and Constance kissed my cheek.

"You look radiant," she said.

"I slept like a baby."

Preston came up behind me and put his hand on the small of my back.

Brooke hugged me from the side and whispered that I was glowing.

Constance tapped her glass with a spoon.

"Everyone, a moment. One more person is joining us today. My elder son, who hasn't been home in six years. Please welcome Dominic."

The front door opened.

He came in with a bag over his shoulder and his hair still wet from the shower, and he saw me across the room.

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