‘How on earth would you know that?’ Sabrina demanded. ‘Just because he’s Jamie’s brother and he…’
‘Because I have irrefutable proof,’ Libby interrupted.
Sabrina stared. ‘What proof?’
Libby’s bright chestnut eyes danced with excitement—making Sabrina feel like a trout who had bitten into a juicy worm, only to discover there was a hook embedded in the middle of it.
‘Remember the skiing holiday me and Jamie had in Colorado last November?’
Sabrina nodded as Libby reeled her in.
‘Remember I told you Connor was snowboarding in the next valley. And he turned up for dinner one night with a date, an actress from LA who didn’t eat, but drank like a fish. And that they had to stay the night in the chalet’s spare bedroom because a snowstorm hit.’
‘Yes.’ Sabrina said cautiously, remembering far too well the sting of envy when Libby had described in glowing detail the anorexic beauty of Connor’s date. ‘So?’
‘So the walls in that chalet were paper thin—’ Libby paused for effect and Sabrina leaned in—like a moth gravitating towards the flame. ‘So we could hear every single thing Connor and his date got up to that night.’ Libby paused again, the silence unbroken as Sabrina stopped breathing. ‘And I do mean all night.’
‘You listened?’ Sabrina hissed, trying for appalled but getting enthralled instead—thanks to the lack of oxygen now reaching her brain.
‘Well, it was kind of hard to avoid because they were so loud. And it was funny at first, but then it got extremely bloody hot.’ Libby’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘He spanked her.’
‘He…What?’ A fireball detonated in Sabrina’s arse and radiated up her spine. ‘That’s disgusting.’ Or at least it would be, if she could just get her arse to stop sizzling and her brain to start functioning. ‘Why didn’t you do something, if he was abusing her?’
‘Don’t be daft, Bree. It wasn’t abuse.’ Libby laughed, the husky sound not helping with the sizzling—or the lack of functioning brain cells. ‘Believe me, this was entirely consensual—emphasis on the sensual.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because we could hear her moaning and panting during her spanking and then screaming her head off—when he was rogering her with his—’ Libby paused to do air quotes again. ‘Awesome cock. Her words, not mine.’ Libby propped a considering finger under her chin. ‘I wonder, what do you think “awesome” translates as in feet and inches? Because Jamie’s extremely well hung and they are half-brothers.’
Feet? What the…?
‘Shut up.’ Sabrina squeezed her thighs together, disturbed by the picture that appeared in her mind of Connor McCoy and his ‘awesome cock’ pounding into her.
Bloody hell, was she actually getting moist imagining it?
‘I don’t believe it.’ The erotic vision dissolved as her common sense intervened. ‘I’ve never screamed when I come. Have you? No guy’s that good in bed, no matter how big his dick is.’ Or no guy she’d ever slept with. ‘I bet she was faking it. She was an actress.’
‘Jamie’s made me scream a number of times.’ Libby’s eyes clouded with pity. ‘You’ve just been doing it with the wrong guys.’ Then the cheeky grin returned with a vengeance. ‘Plus I saw one of Marlena’s movies. Believe me, she’s not that good an actress.’
3) Be Aware, Size Matters: Especially when it comes to your best man’s ego. Tread carefully if he has a big one.
I don’t believe it! She rearranged our carefully considered seating plan to sit me next to Connor and his foot-long cock.
Sabrina stared in disbelief at the board displayed outside the elegant private dining salon in Rules, the historic Covent Garden restaurant Jamie’s parents had booked for the rehearsal dinner. Her scalp burned, while a disturbing heat smouldered much lower down.
I’m going to throttle my best friend less than a week before her wedding.
She tried to catch Libby’s eye as their party of sixteen filed into the room—but the bride-to-be was busy ignoring her, all her attention focused on her fiancé. Jamie looked suitably debonair in his dark grey single-breasted suit—until his hand strayed to Libby’s backside and squeezed in a very public display of affection for the centuries-old establishment. Sabrina spotted Elizabeth watching her son and future daughter-in-law, the lift of a perfectly arched eyebrow telegraphing her disgust.
Sabrina glared at the back of Elizabeth’s perfect chignon as the exquisitely dressed woman swept ahead of her into the salon, her resentment spurred on by what Libby had told her the day before about the woman’s treatment of Connor.
Lighten up, you snooty cow. Libby and Jamie are in love with each other. Why shouldn’t they show it?
Some of the tension in her shoulders released. She needed to lighten up, too. Sitting next to Connor didn’t have to be bad. Libby’s hidden agenda wasn’t a problem as long as Connor never found out about it. And there was no reason why he should, as long as Sabrina remembered to breathe and remained focused on their collaboration at the wedding—instead of his awesome cock.
‘You better watch it—Elizabeth can strike you cross-eyed if you look at her the wrong way.’
Sabrina swung round at the intimate whisper over her left shoulder. To find Connor smiling at her, his deep blue eyes hooded.
She swallowed down the foolish pang of sympathy at the thought of him as a teenage tearaway, subjected to Elizabeth’s constant disapproval.
He certainly wasn’t a teenage tearaway anymore.
A crisp white shirt and expertly tailored dark blue suit did nothing to disguise the exceptionally well-developed body beneath. Sabrina’s assessing gaze roamed down his torso entirely of its own accord—only coming to an abrupt halt when it landed on the pleated crotch of his trousers.
Stop staring at his lunch box. Are you bonkers?
Her gaze shot back to his face. ‘I beg your pardon?’
She didn’t just want to throttle Libby now, she wanted to eviscerate her—for putting speculative thoughts about Connor McCoy’s size into her head.
Strong white teeth flashed in his tanned face. ‘You can beg if you want to, Sabrina.’ His voice came out in a husky rumble. ‘But I’m not sure I’m going to pardon that. Were you just checking out my junk?’ The smouldering blue of his irises sparkled with amusement.
A guilty flush blasted up to incinerate the tips of Sabrina’s ears.
‘Of course not.’ She stepped away, planning to march into the salon and hopefully stop her radioactive cheeks from giving her away.
But he gripped her elbow, bringing her getaway to an indignant halt. ‘Hold up.’
The rest of the bridal party walked past them as he held her anchored to the spot.
‘We got off to a rocky start a couple of days ago,’ he murmured. ‘Which was mostly my fault.’
She faced him, prepared to accept his apology graciously, so they could move on—preferably into the crowded salon and away from the secluded alcove.
But the apology didn’t come. Instead his thumb caressed the inside of her elbow, making tingles radiate up her arm.
‘It’s okay…’ She tugged her arm, but his grip