Page 19 of Best Man (Close Proximity #1)
EIGHT
JESSE
When we get down to dinner that night, I stop dead.
“What is it?” Zeb’s hand comes to rest at the small of my back.
He’s probably unaware of the gesture, but it feels like he’s branded me.
I can feel the heat of his hand at my back, his fingers spread.
It’s almost possessive, which is completely ridiculous, but I can’t deny that he’s seemed softer with me in some way since we got back from our afternoon out.
I sneak a look at him as he stares at the table, a small frown on his face. Probably looking for potential problems, I think affectionately.
He looks back at me. “What’s the problem?”
“The seating arrangements.” He looks at me in incomprehension. “They haven’t changed. I was hoping we were sitting next to Jeffrey Dahmer tonight rather than George and Mildred.”
“Nina and Victor,” he says in a measured voice, but the tug at his lips betrays his amusement. “And you’d probably have been better off with Jeffrey Dahmer because at least you could have had his share of the dinner menu.”
“I’m not sure who told you that you were funny, but I’d get a second opinion,” I inform him haughtily, and we both grin at each other like idiots until a throat clears.
When I turn, I find the whole table watching us.
Max has a grin on his face, but Patrick’s face is poisonous.
Frances looks at him, and becoming aware of her glance, he rearranges his face hurriedly.
I look at him thoughtfully and then obey Zeb’s urging and sit down at the table.
I smile at everyone until I get to Nina, and the smile slides slowly off my face.
“Jesse,” she says in a glacial tone.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I mutter and then say “ouch” as Zeb kicks me.
She ignores me like the Queen of the Angry Dead that she undoubtedly is, and I settle down for what promises to be another fun-filled evening of food that wouldn’t fill a chihuahua, and conversation with Nina and Victor that runs the gamut of stocks and shares to icy digs at Zeb.
After one particular humdinger, I inhale sharply and open my mouth, only to shut it quickly when he grabs my thigh and squeezes. When I look at him he mouths, “Leave it,” and, endeavouring to keep to my plan of making him happy, I subside.
“Thank you,” he whispers into my ear, and I shudder.
It isn’t inconspicuous, either. It’s a full-body judder, but I can’t help it.
He’s so close to me, his hand warm on my thigh and his warm breath playing across my ear.
To my horror, I feel my cock stir, and he goes completely still as if sensing it.
I look determinedly down at the table but when his grasp doesn’t ease up, I sneak a glance at him.
He’s staring at me, his eyes dark and peculiarly intent, seemingly focused on my lips.
As an experiment I run my tongue over my bottom lip and feel his hand tighten.
I can’t help my gasp this time because he’s about two inches away from my cock, which is rock hard now.
His gaze shoots up, and for a long second our eyes tangle.
Then Nina says something in a querulous tone, and the intimate bubble pops. His hand moves away from my leg, and he faces forward, talking to her, but I can see that his breaths are fast and unsteady. Like mine. Shit.
When dinner is finished, which is considerably before my appetite is satisfied, Frances stands up.
She’s dressed in a black cap-sleeved dress and looks poised and attractive.
She claps her hands to get our attention.
“The older members of the party are going to the Blue Room to carry on their evening. We’ve got something different planned for everyone else,” she says.
“Will the older people be eating?” I say hopefully to Zeb. “Because I vote we go with them if that’s the case.”
He rolls his eyes and focuses on Frances.
“The rest of us,” she’s saying, “are going to play a game.”
“I’m not sure about this,” I hiss. “I’ve read books about the upper class and their parties. I don’t wish to be corrupted.”
He turns a gaze brimming with mirth on me just as Frances says excitedly, “We’re going to play hide-and-seek.”
I make a moue of disappointment, and Zeb chuckles. “I’d love to live in your head,” he mutters and pauses. “But only after I’ve taken Valium.”
I nudge him, trying not to laugh as Frances carries on talking, giving us an incredibly long list of rules that seem to go on forever.
“This is like the Geneva Convention version of hide-and-seek,” I whisper. “I vote we go and do something else.”
“And,” Frances says excitedly, “the prize is an all-expenses-paid week in the Caribbean.”
“Oh, well now, that’s different,” I say hurriedly. He raises an eyebrow, and I shake my head. “We should endeavour to take part in this wonderful event,” I say piously to him. I grab his hand. “Come on. Get up quickly because we need a fucking great hiding place. We’re going to win that prize.”
“Competition brings out a very unexpected side of you,” he muses, getting to his feet and following me as I tug him along.
“You have no idea,” I mutter. “Now, where’s the best place?”
We look in cupboards and rooms on the ground floor and everywhere is the sound of excited laughter. Then, all of a sudden, the lights go off.
“What the fuck? Is it a power cut or have they not paid their electricity bill?” I breathe, and he chuckles. It sounds rich and warm in the sudden darkness .
“ They switched the lights off on this floor to make it more difficult. You weren’t listening to the rules, were you?”
“Pshaw! Rules are for people who don’t win a week in the Caribbean.” I exclaim in triumph as I open a door. “Perfect. Get in here.”
“What the hell?” he says as I pull him in and shut the door. “Where are we?” His voice is suddenly at my ear and I jump.
“Jesus, warn a bloke, will you?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Jesse. Did I not warn you where I was when you thrust me headfirst into a cupboard?”
“You’re so dramatic, Zeb,” I breathe admiringly. “I love this unexpected side of you.”
“Don’t get used to it. It doesn’t appear very often.”
“Lies,” I say blithely. “Very big lies.”
He chuckles and shifts position. I can feel his body all against my side, and I still suddenly as I realise how very small this fucking cupboard is.
“What are we hiding in?” he asks, and I shudder as his breath washes across my ear.
“Oh, erm.” I stop to clear my throat. “It’s a storage room for luggage. I found it when I got lost going to the shoot today.”
“Surely it’s completely in the wrong direction.”
“Not if you’re acquainted with this party.” I shift position, trying to lean a little bit away from him before I lose my head and grab him. He’s just so close and hot. I squeeze my eyes closed, which makes it worse as his scent fills the small cupboard. It’s so warm and sexy. Like him.
He chuckles, and I suppress a groan of despair as my cock fills until it’s almost uncomfortable. I shift my feet again.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Fine. Just that this cupboard is very small.”
“Are you claustrophobic?” I can hear the concern in his voice. He fumbles, and I want to moan as he cups my face in his hands. “Say the word and we’ll fuck the game off,” he says, and I wonder if I’m imagining things because his voice sounds thick, and his hand is shaking with a tiny tremor .
“No,” I say, turning into him. His fingers brush my mouth. In a state of almost suspended animation, I feel them slowly sweep across my mouth. His thumb catches the lower lip, and I hear a hiss, and then he pushes down slowly, the wetness there touching his thumb.
I can hear panting breaths in the dark, and I don’t know whether it’s him or me, but I abruptly lose my control and take his thumb into my mouth, sucking it slowly and thoroughly.
His breath catches, and I hear a rumble before suddenly his thumb is gone and his hands are at my shoulders as he pushes me into the back wall. “Jesus,” he says, his breath harried and heavy. “Jesus, Jesse. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“No,” I moan, and I lift my arms and tangle my hands behind his head, bringing it down until his lips graze mine. We stay there for a long second and then I swear I can literally feel his control snap as he lowers his mouth and takes mine in a deep, wet kiss.
I moan in my throat and pull his hair in an attempt to get more of his lips. He obeys and we sink into the kiss, tongues tangling and rubbing.
I pull my head back to take a breath and promptly lose it when he sinks into me, his body pressing mine into the wall. “Oh God, yes.” My voice is slurred and fucked up. “Get on me.”
He moans a wild sound and then he’s kissing me again, his cock a hard and heavy pressure against my own.
He ruts against me and lowers his hands to grab my arse and pull me into him so he can get closer.
It’s a desperate, unchecked gesture, and it turns the heat up for me even more.
I cant my hips and rub on him, feeling my balls bunch and press into the seam of my trousers.
It’s a sharp, bright pain and I kiss him deeper and wetter, our teeth clashing.
When he pulls away, I open my eyes blearily. “What is it?” I mutter. “Come back.”
He stands back, but I’m reassured by him keeping a hold of my arms. I look at him in the dim light now that my eyes have adjusted. He looks astonished. As if I’ve punched him in the face. “Zeb?”
He gives a sudden, sharp bark of laughter. “What am I doing?” he mutters.
“Not enough,” I observe and try to tug him back .
“I want you so much,” he says. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Stopping would be very bad. For my cock,” I add in case he didn’t get the memo.
He shakes his head, and grabbing my face between his palms, he kisses me slowly and so thoroughly that, when he draws back, I’m an inch away from coming.
“Come upstairs,” he whispers. “I need to be inside you so badly.”
I grab my cock and squeeze hard. “Fuck yes,” I mutter and follow him out of the cupboard. I can’t believe this is actually happening.