Goddamn. Mandy was cute when she got flustered.

She was also beautiful when she was excited. And angry. And irritated. And overwhelmed.

Which was now.

“Our wedding?”

She squeaked over the word. Teasing her was too easy, but I loved hearing that squeal any way I could get it. Whether she stomped her feet and got pissy or whimpered it with her heels over her head, her cry rang like music to my ears.

She huffed like she could read my thoughts, but I never hid what I wanted from Mandy. My desires were as honest as she could imagine.

I thumbed through the wedding binder, but Mandy wrenched it from my hands, nearly slicing my finger on the cheap plastic cover.

“We are not getting married,” she said.

I grinned. “Not with that attitude we aren’t.”

She stormed into her own house, which was as amusing as her ordering me out of it. I ignored her, following her into the kitchen as those plump hips swayed a sultry beat. She meant to stomp. Instead she shimmied, slipped, and then slid across the linoleum in pink socks.

Socks I distinctly remembered.

Socks I told her to keep on while I fucked the blessed hell out of her that night.

I always considered myself a stockings man—thigh high with no mystery. Instead, I chased a girl in pink, polka-dot socks.

But Christ, she was gorgeous, even while she glared at me. If only she realized I could see her perky little nipples pressing against her shirt. Never got a better greeting from her before. I might have complimented her, but sure as sin she’d hide those pebbles from me, and I’d be jerking from memory all over again.

“Don’t make me get on one knee.” I loved to watch her squirm. She did her best to avoid my gaze. “You. Me. A quick getaway to someplace fun. Atlantic City. Vegas. Key West? What do you say?”

Mandy nibbled on her bottom lip, full and plump. She didn’t realize she was the perfect little tease, luring me into a chase.

“Like you’d ever settle down,” she said.

“And if it meant a chance to go down again?”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful reason to get married.”

“Come on. You’re not naive. You know why people really get married.”

“Love? Commitment?”

Maybe she was that naive.

Mandy set her binder on the counter, laying out all the plans for Lindsey’s freak-show of a wedding. I saw a couple trendy ideas that were more expensive than practical, but apparently that’s what people liked to waste time on now.

She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe they get married because they want to start a family?”

I shook my head. “Nope. It’s all about the wedding night, baby.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“So were you.”

I took one step too close. Mandy pushed a finger into my chest, and I grinned as I retreated.

She was a gorgeous little thing—like a wisp of a fairy, dark-skinned and gentle with almond eyes and a skin-tone to match. She was beautiful enough for me to wish I hadn’t already fucked her, if only for a chance to seduce that perfection again.

Almost.

But nothing could make me regret that night.

“Can’t we just be…normal around each other?” she asked.

“I’ve always hit on you, baby. Am I really acting any differently now?”

“Yeah, you’re worse.”

“Only because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She glanced over my shoulder, probably worried someone heard me declare my nefarious intentions. Lindsey pitched a tantrum upstairs. I figured we had another five minutes before the wedding was called off and she’d swear to donate her wedding dress to blind nuns again.

Mandy crossed her arms. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to ask you to marry me.”

“Be serious.”

Serious was no fun. “I wanted to see you.”

“Nate—”

“Are you really going to deny me a second chance to fuck you?”

Mandy snorted. “Watch me, Romeo.”

Good thing I’d loved the chase so much the first time. Now that I knew what I was hunting, I had all the motivation I needed to catch her again.

“You know we were great together,” I said.

“Oh yeah.” Mandy pulled a ginger ale from the fridge. “We fit together a little too well.”

She poured her drink and licked a bead of soda from the edge of the glass. I couldn’t breathe, and my zipper nearly castrated me.

Was it possible to envy a cup?

This fucking woman had no idea what she did to me.

I grinned. “I know I can be intimidating—”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a little full of yourself.”

“You liked being full of me.”

“For the love of—”

“Five times…if I remember. You loved it five times.”

“Six.” She took no joy in correcting me, probably because she knew it’d become another record for me to break. “You know…there’s more important things in this world than sex?”

“Nothing’s more important than sex.”

“There’s weddings. And family. And responsibilities.”

I shrugged. “I manage my own business.”

“You brew beer.”

She meant it as an insult. At least I was used to that sort of judgment. A few years ago, that regrettable life decision finally made me enough money to justify not going to college or following in Pastor Kensington’s footsteps, no matter what my father wished for me.

“It’s a microbrewery and bar. And it’s a successful one. What’s more fun than that?”

“Exactly. Life is all fun and games to you. You don’t take anything seriously.”

“You don’t begrudge a chef making a sandwich when he’s on the clock.” I held my arms out. “I’m a master craftsman, baby.”

“Is that what they’re calling you these days?” She teased me with the word. “A craftsman?”

Yeah, said the magazine article and two blogger interviews I did for my pub, Arrogance.

I shrugged. “I think it sounds more impressive than entrepreneur.”

“Last I heard, you were known as the man who never calls or that asshole with the big…” She glanced at the bulge in my pants. “Ego.”

“You can say it.” I grinned as she ignored me. “Cock.”

“I wasn’t going to give you the pleasure.”

“You have no idea how much pleasure you gave me.” I lowered my voice. “Still think about it?”

“No.”

“I still think about you.”

“Stop.”

She acted like it was just another pick-up line. If only she knew I was being honest. It’d shock her as much as it surprised me.

I went to sleep dreaming of her—how her gorgeous, honey-colored eyes had stared at me, half-lidded and begging for more. Her full and fuckable lips had parted, and her hips arched for me to take her harder, deeper.

I never treated Mandy like another score. I’d chased her a bit in high-school and when she went to college because it was fun to watch her stammer and squirm. I never expected I’d actually seduce her, and I fully anticipated the mistake we’d made.

But the only thing that changed was me.

Mandy hadn’t approached me again, and I was the one drooling like an idiot over her memory. I never went back for seconds with a girl. Ever. I took a vow to myself. No sense getting greedy when it would threaten me with dates, long-term commitments, and finding those damn hair scrunchies on my bathroom counter.

But for a second night with Mandy? I’d risk falling asleep beside her just to wake up and share a breakfast and sunrise.

I’d never let myself get that close to another woman…so why could I imagine it so clearly with her?

I probably needed a good fuck. Something to take my mind off this unbelievably gorgeous woman who acted like our night together hadn’t completely changed her life.

Mandy’s glass thudded on the table. She leaned over the counter. I felt bad for her. The wedding planning must have exhausted her. No wonder she was cranky, but I couldn’t figure out why she tensed, ready to bolt from the room. I wasn’t that bad of company, and every girl liked to be teased.

Her scowl wasn’t the reaction I wanted. I preferred her gasping in a toe-clenching, spine-shattering orgasm, but at least she was talking to me today.

“Why are you really here?” she asked.

“Trying on the tux,” I said.

“Oh.”

“Wanna watch?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

I winked. “You can help me take it off.”

Pretty sure she’d rip off my pants to twist them in a knot around my neck, but her touch was worth possible asphyxiation.

“Mandy!” Lindsey bellowed from upstairs. Knowing Lindsey, her shoes were probably crafted from some sort of endangered reptile, but they still galloped like hooves down the stairs. “What’s taking so long? We’re on a schedule!”

Mandy guzzled her ginger ale. She deserved something harder. For all her hard work so far, the woman earned an ounce of whiskey before this execution. She faced the full insanity of the wedding party with a bravery that deserved a blindfold and cigarette.

My best friend and groom-to-be emerged from the hall, looking like he already suffered the hangover of the reception without getting laid on the wedding night. He slouched in a kitchen chair and shrunk away from Lindsey and his future mother-in-law.

Damn. Bryce used to play linebacker in college. He once bragged he was a monster rippling with 100% Grade-A Dark Meat. It wasn’t good that all two hundred and seventy pounds of him scared people into crossing to the other side of the street when he passed—in fact, we blamed the deplorable state of race relations in our town. But Bryce was big and proud. I was lucky if I had enough beer in my brewery to get him tipsy.

Now he held Lindsey’s purse because the bride-to-be couldn’t risk breaking a nail, not when she…and all ten nails…were made up for pictures.

Whatever little cherry tree rose bush queen of diamonds she painted on her hands wasn’t sexy. Fingernails weren’t supposed to be centerpieces, they were meant to scratch a man’s back while he fucked the hell out of his woman. Not to Lindsey. If the wedding didn’t rival the narrative she painted onto her nails, the next forty years of Bryce’s life would be a living nightmare.

Lindsey was nothing like her younger sister, but the good Lord didn’t make too many Mandys.

Thankfully, he only made one Lindsey.

The bride possessed the spirit of either a diva or a demon, but Bryce said once she got a cock in her mouth she was tolerable. I’m sure he said other nice things about his fiancée, but I didn’t see her picking out his underwear and structuring his meal plans as relationship perks.

“Let me see the invitations.” Lindsey took a deep breath. “I can handle it.”

Sandra, her mother, hid her face like Mandy opened the results of a hospital test or revealed who was sent home on the Bachelor. She had squeezed into a shirt way too tight for a woman of her…magnitude, but apparently she wanted the world to know she was the Mama Of The Bride so much she had it screen printed across her chest.

“Open them, Mandy,” she ordered.

“Yeah…” Mandy cleared her throat. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Don’t worry about the invitations. You focus on your dress. I can fix this.”

“For goodness sake.” Sandra stole the box. “Let’s see how bad these really are. Lord have mercy, you’d think we’ve never had any wedding mistakes before—”

Lindsey shrieked. Sandra collapsed into a chair, prayed to Jesus, and pitched the freakishly violet invitations away like they were addressed to the devil.

Bryce checked his phone and shrugged. He was a good man who learned when to stay quiet.

“How could you let this happen?” Sandra covered her eyes. Her nails were painted too, red polka dots to match Lindsey’s. “Mandy, you had one job! We asked you to do one simple little thing.”

Mandy forced a smile. “Yeah…they’re indigo. But I can fix them.”

“I wanted ivory!” Lindsey punctuated her pout with a stomp. “You knew I wanted ivory!”

“So did the designer. I made sure to tell them your colors when I sent the mock-up. This is just a mistake.”

“We only have eight weeks until the wedding! We don’t have time for mistakes. Those should have already gone out!” Lindsey collapsed onto a chair, a rush of tears spilling over her cheeks. “This is a disaster! We can’t have indigo invitations!”

Bryce glanced up from his phone. He frowned, sifting through Lindsey’s purse for the packet of tissues that came standard as part of their wedding planning.

Two types of men existed in the world.

Some thought marriage was a pixy-stick dreamland of endless love-making, searching for homes, and sharing life’s adventures together.

The rest of us? We had our fun, fucked our way through a relationship, and then cut when the girl left her toothbrush overnight.

Smart men listened to their dicks. Sure, we fucked the wrong girls, but at least we didn’t settle down and fuck ourselves. The world was harsh, and survival of the fittest in the dating world meant staying independent, unbeaten, and ready and willing for the next mistake with full lips and an ass made for spanking.

Bryce put a ring on Lindsey’s finger, and now he carried her purse. It was times like this a man needed a good drink to grieve for a friend. My pub was open to him, day or night. I even brewed a special beer specifically for him that’d stay as cold as his feet.

I sensed the mistake before Bryce made it. He peeked at the invitations and tried to be helpful.

Rookie mistake.

“I don’t mind the indigo,” he said.

I patted his shoulder. It was good knowing him.

“Are you insane?” Lindsey shoved the paper into his chest. “Indigo? This is probably the gloomiest, most depressing, most hideously obscene invitation I’ve ever seen! This isn’t a Jane Austen romantic fairytale, this is like…Edgar Allan Poe’s wetdream!”

He didn’t know when to quit. “I…think it’s a nice color.”

“It doesn’t match anything we’ve done with the decorations—which you would know if you spent even one second caring about the most important day of our lives.”

“I do care—”

“You absolutely do not. I’m doing all this planning by myself, and now you want me to change the colors.” Lindsey pointed at Mandy. “And you. You love this, don’t you?”

Mandy guzzled her ginger ale, but she spat half of it back into her glass. “What did I do?”

“You always hated the ivory!”

“That’s not true. I thought the cream might make more of a contrast—”

“Why can’t you be happy for me?”

Sandra soothed her daughter. “There, there. Mandy knows she has to try harder. We’ll sort it out.”

“I don’t want to have a purple wedding and look like a grape!”

Bryce cleared his throat. “Indigo isn’t really purple—”

I elbowed him. He got the hint, taking Lindsey into his arms before she called off the damn party.

“We’ll fix it,” he said.

“There’s no time!” Her nails turned into claws, nearly shredding the groom. “We won’t have time, and we’ll never get the invitations out, and no one will come to the wedding, and we’ll be all alone, and I haven’t even finished doing my registry yet!”

Mandy’s eye twitched with every word. Poor thing needed a little more help.

I smirked. She didn’t trust it. I didn’t blame her, but I wasn’t letting my two friends stay miserable. Someone had to prevent Lindsey from stroking out—or worse, forcing her mother to disown Mandy.

“Tell you what, Linds,” I said. “I’ll get the other groomsmen here to try on their tuxes while Mandy re-does your ivory invitations in Photoshop.”

“While I do what?” Mandy squeaked.

Wasn’t sure what I liked more—the warmth of her touch or the burn of her stare.

“Sure,” I said. “We’ll double-check the design, run them down to a Kinkos, and we’ll order a pizza for everyone. We’ll get the groomsmen to help stuff the envelopes tonight, address them ourselves, and send them out tomorrow.”

Lindsey peeked over Bryce’s shoulder. “You mean it?”

I winked at Mandy, prepared to duck away from any wayward can of soda she decided to pitch at my head.

“Okay.” Mandy surrendered. “I can simplify the design a bit and we can add the tissue paper and rsvp cards ourselves.”

“And…and the bows on top?” Lindsey asked.

“We’ll hot glue them on, but that means a stop at the craft store, and it might take a lot longer—”

“Fantastic!” Lindsey fanned the tears from her eyes. “Oh, you guys…what would I do without you?”

She grabbed her sister and squeezed her tight. Mandy softened. Unfortunately, Lindsey’s voice hardened, and the hug shifted into a thinly veiled headlock.

“But I want two pieces of tissue paper, in ivory. And I want card stock, not regular paper. And I need gold envelopes. If I don’t get gold envelopes, I’m going to—”

“We’ll get them.” Mandy glanced at me, probably to gauge the distance between her hands and my throat. “Promise.”

“Good.” Sandra hugged Lindsey. “See, this family always pulls together.”

Lindsey smiled. So did Mandy.

Sandra frowned at her daughter.

“You ought to be thankful, Amanda.” She pulled Lindsey from the kitchen under the pretense of checking on the guest list. “I never had a family to bail me out of my mistakes.”

Mandy had the patience of a saint.

She also had the lips of an angel, the hips of a dancer, and the ass of a goddess.

I pissed her off, but Mandy couldn’t hold a grudge for long. She grumbled and opened her laptop at the table to work on the invitations.

Once Bryce freed himself from Lindsey’s clutches and returned to a shade of his former personality. I followed him upstairs. He shoved a tux in my arms and pointed to the guest room.

“You can try it on, but don’t get any crumbs on it,” he said.

This coming from the man who once passed out in a gallon of spilled milk and two boxes of Lucky Charms. When we were kids, Bryce was always the first in the mud, gunk, stink, or whatever trouble we found.

Was he planning to wear a wedding ring or handcuffs once this was over?

“I’m not eating anything,” I said. “Safe from crumbs.”

Bryce wasn’t smiling. “Doesn’t matter, man. No crumbs. No ink. No wrinkles. No nothing. Got it? Lindsey will have my balls if something happens to the tux.”

“Think she already has ‘em.”

“Name of the game. Just gotta power through until the wedding. That’s when the shopping and planning and the decorations and the stress stops.”

I laughed. “No…that’s when it all begins.”

He shrugged. “You wouldn’t understand. I don’t think you’ve been with a girl long enough to put her number in your cell.”

“But I don’t have to worry about crumbs, do I?”

Bryce left me to get dressed. “I guess. But it’s worth it. That’s what Lindsey says.”

Right.

I suited up in the formal garb, tossing on the pants and shoes. Those fit, but I didn’t think the shirt was supposed to be mine.

The shirt stretched, but I’d rip the material over my biceps and pop the buttons over my pecs if they expected me to wear it. While it’d make for a good show, Lindsey already warned me to keep my ink hidden. Apparently, both the Prescotts and my family thought the tattoos meant trouble. I was twenty-eight years old, and nothing changed from when I was a kid. The entire neighborhood had always worried for their daughters when I came around.

Well, only one girl had to worry.

And she was long past saving from my intentions.

So why the hell couldn’t I get her out of my mind? I still tasted her on my lips, felt her clinging to my shoulders, and shuddered with the memory of her pussy milking my cock.

Maybe it was because I knew her? We grew up together, though back then she was just the annoying kid her sister used to babysit. Lindsey, Bryce, and I had five years on her, so it was a surprise to see her become a beautiful and sexy woman with dangerous curves and a sweet smile.

The bedroom door kicked open. I held my hands up.

“I don’t have any fucking crumbs, Bryce!”

Mandy slammed the door behind her.

Oh, this wasn’t a friendly visit, and it certainly wouldn’t end with me pushed back onto the bed with her grinding against my lap.

A man could hope, but he also had to protect his boys in case the girl of his dreams happened to kick.

I grinned at her, half-naked. My arms crossed over my bare chest, flexing everything hard and inked for her inspection. My pants felt too tight, even with the button undone and the zipper down.

She took one look and stilled, eyes wide.

Perfect.

I winked. “If you wanted to undress me, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Mandy reached for the only weapon she could find—my tie. I laughed as she whipped it at me, flapping my chest with the black silk.

It wasn’t her most impressive showing, especially since I remembered her at five years old, making a summer snowball out of white legos. She’d pelted me, pitching it over the fence separating our yards. Still had the scar on my eyebrow.

I grabbed the tie in mid-air and tugged. She fell forward, and I wrapped the silk behind her back. Mandy gritted her teeth as I pulled her into my chest, but she couldn’t hide her quick little breath. Her hands danced over my chest, trying to settle on skin that wasn’t marked by a tribal tattoo.

Why wouldn’t she admit to wanting me too? It had been weeks since we spent the night together, and our game of hot and cold frustrated me.

“You did it on purpose!” Mandy hissed and untangled herself. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Making the invitations? Sending them tomorrow?”

“Thought it’d be fun.”

“Nate, by the time Lindsey fire-breathes her demands for these invitations, we won’t be able to find a UPS store or Kinkos in one hundred miles that will let us through the door. And, if we’re lucky enough to print them, we’ll be up all night trying to finish.”

I wrapped the tie around my neck and shrugged. “If I remember correctly, we had an all-nighter last time we were together. You didn’t complain then.”

“Is everything about sex to you?”

Was that a trick question? “Baby, you gotta know that was the greatest sex either of us has ever had.”

“It was a mistake.” Her voice hardened. “We never should have done it.”

“We never should have stopped.”

Every emotion looked good on her—anger, indignation, even shame, though I had no idea why she’d feel ashamed, or how desperately she’d try to hide it.

Christ, this woman was the best lay I ever had, and now she gave me balls bluer than the damn wedding invitations.

Those pouty lips clamped over words she refused to speak, and her honey-amber eyes averted to avoid my gaze. No matter how much of an edge she added to her voice or how stiffly she squared her shoulders, Mandy’s bluff was weak.

So why did she fight me?

“You’re still chasing me,” she said. “Why?”

“Because I love to see those hips wiggle when you run.”

“You already had me, Nate.”

“I took you for one night. I never had you.”

“Well, one night was our agreement, remember?” Her voice weakened, losing some of the fire that nearly scorched the pants off me. “You promised me one night, no strings.”

I stepped closer, watching as her lip trembled over a lost breath. “You think I could forget that night?”

“You forgot the rules.”

“No. I broke the rules.”

“Why?”

“Because one night with you will never be enough.”

Her eyes focused on my chest, my neck, the muscles of my shoulders. Her gaze traced everywhere she’d kissed that night. Her lips had trailed over my every muscle, and her tongue flicked along the tattoos over my pecs. She’d done wilder things as her lips pressed lower. She was inexperienced, but raw enthusiasm and natural talent was better than any practiced mouth.

Even if I never took her again, I refused to let her regret the night we had.

“It’s been a month,” I said. “That’s too fucking long.”

Mandy shook her head. Waves of dark hair fell in front of her face. I brushed her cheek to chase the ebony locks away. She stopped me before my hand caressed the soft angle of her jaw.

The best decisions were made from my gut.

The fun choices came from the twitch of my cock.

I pulled her into my embrace. Her eyes locked on mine. She meant to chastise me, but even she couldn’t hide what simmered in her stare. It stirred everything inside me, and that desire was dangerous.

I shouldn’t have wanted her so badly.

I had no idea why I did.

“I’m not sleeping with you again,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

Her words trembled. “The first time caused enough trouble.”

“The second time can cause even more.”

“Not sure that’s physically possible.”

She squirmed. I let her go, but she lingered. Too close. Her hand trailed over my skin, and every touch shot bolts of pure adrenaline through my body, tearing through what wasn’t ravaged with a surge of desire.

I had a bed. I had a beautiful woman.

And she threaded her fingers into the tie around my neck. My breathing stilled. I’d take a leash or a whipping from this woman, and it didn’t matter as long as it was her delivering that pain or pleasure.

She gave me neither.

She wove the tie into a perfect knot, tightening it until it fit around my bare neck. I hardened, ready and willing to follow this woman wherever she led.

I hoped it was to the bed.

“I have to make it through this wedding,” she said. “There’s a lot of pressure on me to help. My parents can’t stand each other, and Lindsey is going insane—”

“I know a good way to cope with the stress.”

“You’re making it worse.”

I leaned in as her fingers curled around the tie. Our foreheads touched, and I breathed in the sweet vanilla scent of her.

Fuck, did she always smell this good? Look this good? Feel this soft?

Something about her was more tempting than before. It wasn’t a need for her. I actually hurt. My thoughts bled into a headache, my fingers cramped against the urge to throw her on the bed, and my cock would split if she didn’t drop to her knees and kiss away the strain.

A man could dream.

Mandy’s voice steadied. “We can’t do it again.”

“You know this hard-to-get game just makes me hard.”

“Let’s talk after the wedding, okay?” She bit her lip. I ducked down to taste it. Denied. “We’ll see if you still want me.”

“I can’t last two months before fucking you again.”

“I think after two months you’ll want out. I’m pretty sure you will.”

“Baby, I’m like a man stranded in the desert…” My lips grazed her cheek. She couldn’t hide the shiver. “I’m dying for something wet.”

She tightened the knot and jammed it into my neck. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’d love something sweet too.” I grinned, even as she tried to choke me. “Creamy.”

“We’re done here.” Mandy pulled away before I could capture her lips in a kiss. Next time I wouldn’t be so slow. “I’m not sleeping with you again, Nate.”

“Baby, we wouldn’t get any sleep.”

“I’m serious. I need space. I can’t handle the wedding preparation and work and my family and…you at the same time.”

I loosened the tie, imagining how beautiful she’d look with it binding her hands over her head. But then she couldn’t touch me, couldn’t wrap around me.

Other girls might have made it interesting, but I wanted to be held, caressed, and fucked by Mandy as much as I planned to do the same to her.

I stared at her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her back into a smile. “Something about you is irresistible to me now.”

“That’s because you can’t have me.”

“That’s not it. I already had you. I should be satisfied.”

Mandy’s mouth popped open. “I didn’t satisfy you?”

I laughed. “You did more than that. I’ve never had a fuck like you. I don’t think I will again until I lay you down and get those panties off. So fair warning, baby. Once isn’t enough. It will never be enough. You’re a sweet addiction, but there’s no vice in wanting you. The only sin would be denying what we need.”

She shook her head. “You have no idea the trouble it will cause.”

“The only thing I love more than trouble is a good fuck.” And the only thing better than a good fuck was doing it again. I loosened the tie and tossed it onto the bed. She was lucky I didn’t lay her down next to it. “I’m not going to stop until I take you again.”

“And then what?”

I should have shown her. She baited me, like she didn’t believe how badly I ached to fill her.

The only way she’d understand was if I took her again, but I wasn’t a man to beg. Next time, she’d come to me, and I’d reward her for every second of her bravery.

“And then I’ll fuck you until you realize you never should have run.”