Free 10 Ways to Handle the Best Man by Heidi Rice

seeing the gleaming vehicle covered in foam didn’t last long.
    Sod the car.
    So what if she’d spent an hour on Wednesday researching all the different brands of shaving cream—spending sixty minutes with your clitoris swollen to twice its normal size was a great way to make you stop stressing about protecting the paintwork of your best friend’s new Beemer.
    A large hand settled on her hip and she jumped.
    ‘Easy, sweetheart. Not long now.’ The familiar scent of soap and man enveloped her as she turned to find Connor standing beside her, the mocking smile on his lips comprehensively contradicted by the heavy-lidded gaze.
    By rights she should give him a jolly good slap for the torment he’d put her through, but the relief at seeing him was so intense, she felt a little woozy.
    ‘You’re still here.’ The sense of longing wrapped around her chest and squeezed. ‘I thought you might have left.’
    His eyebrow rose and she instantly wished she could take the words back. She sounded needy and pathetic, not at all like the confident sexual virago she had planned to be.
    ‘Not a chance.’ His hand strayed to her backside. ‘I’ve got a date with this cute little butt tonight. You’re not getting away from me that easily.’
    The cute little butt in question hummed beneath the bold caress, the sensation a giddy mix of arousal and trepidation at the reminder of what he planned to do to it. She’d read up on erotic spanking and had convinced herself it wouldn’t hurt. But the thought of being at Connor’s mercy both terrified and excited her—and she wasn’t sure she could stand to spin out the suspense much longer.
    ‘I’m not trying to get away from you,’ she declared, struggling to sound blasé.
    The sudden chorus of cheers from the foyer focused her attention back where it belonged. But as she watched Libby and Jamie progress through the guests to the entrance, and stepped forward to descend the stairs, Connor’s hand gripped her wrist.
    She tried to tug it free. ‘I need to bid Libby and Jamie farewell.’ And a few more minutes to prepare herself wouldn’t go amiss.
    ‘Time’s up. You’re all mine now.’
    He nodded to the ornate grandfather clock a few feet away. The deep sonorous chime as the big hand of the clock jolted into place was barely audible above the commotion below as Libby tossed her bouquet over her shoulder.
    But despite the noise from the gaggle of single women clamouring to catch the spray of flowers, Sabrina felt the chime reverberate in her abdomen—and match the pulsing hum of the egg.
    ‘But don’t you want to say goodbye to Jamie? You won’t see him again before you leave tomorrow.’ The words bubbled out, as the little blip of panic compressed her chest.
    Was she fully prepared for this? Yes, she was ready physically, far too ready frankly. But why did this suddenly feel like so much more than just casual sex? Connor called to some dark, primal need inside her. But did she really want to unleash it? When she wasn’t sure she could control it?
    ‘I’ll call him tomorrow.’ Those mocking lips twisted. ‘What’s the problem, Sabrina? Running scared?’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not scared of you.’ Or not in the way he thought.
    His fingers tightened on her wrist. ‘Then we don’t have a problem, do we.’
    Without another word, he turned and drew her down the darkened corridors of the mansion, to the wing containing the guest suites. The arousal pounded harder between her legs. But much more disturbing was her heartbeat fluttering in her chest, like the wings of a caged bird as the bars fell away.
    And the cage that had felt so stifling, so restrictive, suddenly seemed remarkably safe and secure compared to the prospect of freedom.
    * * *
    ‘Lose the gown.’
    Sabrina blinked at the curt command and the sight of Connor, shrugging out of his tux jacket and flinging it over a chair. He had clearly booked the biggest suite in the place. It covered one