10 Ways to Handle the Best Man Read Online Free PDF

barrier of silk, only to spot Libby gaping at them from the end of the table. Libby’s gaze dropped, acknowledging the position of Connor’s arm, and then shot back to Sabrina’s face, her jaw going slack.
    Fire rocketed up Sabrina’s neck—and not the good kind—and her knees snapped shut with an audible slap, trapping Connor’s hand again and making him grunt.
    ‘Take your hand away,’ she whispered furiously. ‘Libby can see what you’re doing.’
    ‘Then you’ll have to open your legs. You’ve got me caught fast.’
    She did so immediately, the synapses in her brain finally linking up with her muscle fibres, but instead of removing his hand, his fingers dipped beneath the elastic of her panties and plunged into the slick folds of her sex. She stiffened in shock—pleasure radiating out as he glided over the swollen nub.
    ‘Ugh…’ She grasped the tablecloth, dragged air into burning lungs, and struggled to stay still under Libby’s watchful stare as he fondled her already painfully engorged clitoris.
    ‘Bingo,’ he whispered.
    Sabrina kept her eyes riveted on Libby’s shocked face. She couldn’t look at him, already far too aware of those sharp eyes boring into the back of her head as his thumb toyed with her.
    Then her friend mouthed the letters O. M. G.
    ‘Please…’ she hissed, not sure quite what she was begging for, the touch of his fingers both exquisite and excruciating.
    ‘How about I make you come,’ Connor murmured next to her ear. ‘With everyone watching?’
    ‘Please don’t. I don’t want you to,’ she begged, the breathless plea not even convincing herself as her knees fell open farther to give him better access.
    ‘You’re lying. I can feel how wet you are.’ His thumb circled again, and the heat ebbed and flowed, making her knees tremble, the muscles in her thighs go slack and her breathing burn. ‘And I can smell it, too.’
    Oh god, I’m going to climax in full view of the whole wedding party.
    She dug her fingernails into the linen cloth—her whole being concentrated on that delving, devious caress, driving her ever closer to the edge of something wonderful.
    ‘Don’t you want to come?’ he coaxed, his voice so low it seemed to ripple over her skin. ‘Why deny yourself when you’re so damn close?’
    ‘I can’t,’ she whimpered, having to force the word out. ‘Please stop,’ she begged, her voice breaking as his thumb flicked at the burning nub. ‘I don’t want to make a scene.’
    His hand suddenly pulled out of her knickers and she sagged in her seat, close to tears—although she wasn’t sure if the urge to weep came from relief or mind-numbing frustration.
    She’d had orgasms before that hadn’t been as spontaneous, as seductive, as breathtaking as the feel of his fingers stroking her so expertly. She’d been on the brink of something awe-inspiring. She was sure of it, because her body felt bereft now—and her mind couldn’t quite engage with why it would have been so wrong. To let Connor McCoy treat her to a shouting, sobbing, table-thumping climax of Meg Ryan proportions.
    Except you wouldn’t be faking anything, you muppet! And the whole wedding party would have been treated to your Orgasma-geddon, too.
    ‘You need to learn to unwind, sweetheart. And I’m just the guy for the job.’
    Sabrina’s head whipped round at the mocking words, still dazed by the aching heat in her clitoris—and the blood thundering in her ears.
    ‘Are you completely fucking insane?’ she whispered, grateful to discover after a frantic glance round the table that no one but Libby seemed to have spotted their indiscretion.
    ‘I’m insane to fuck you. Does that count?’
    ‘You’re…? What…?’
    For Chrissake, breathe.
    She hauled air into her lungs, trying to still her galloping heartbeat before she had a heart attack.
    ‘You’re a ball-buster, Sabrina.’ He shrugged. ‘I find that one hell of a turn-on.’
    The gruff admission sounded like an