Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,56

few—that she’d never forget.

But that was it. That was what I was to women. The only serious relationship I had room for in my life was being a son to my mom. I liked being a bachelor. Liked my freedom. The fact that I’d actually gotten married, even when drunk, was so out of character, it was funny. A joke.

It wasn’t real.

But there was some very real shit happening inside me right now and I wasn’t sure if I was equipped to handle it.

Maybe I was just coming down off the adrenaline.

When we got to my house, I parked in the garage and led Sophie inside. Thankfully no one was here. No Althea waiting to discuss something that could wait until Monday, and Oliver didn’t have a reason to come over tonight.

I took the music box and gently placed it on the kitchen counter. “I’m sure we can find someone to fix it.”

“I hope so. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course it does.” I touched her hair again—that beautiful, soft hair. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”

“No, but thank you. I feel…” She trailed off and her shoulders drooped. “Weirdly exhausted.”

“Okay. Guest room’s this way.”

She nodded and followed me to the guest room. It was just down the hall from mine, and I wrestled with whether to invite her to my bed tonight. Hell, even just to sleep next to me so she wouldn’t be alone. But she’d just been through a scare. I knew when to press my advantage and when it would be a dick move to do so.

Now would have been a dick move.

“It has its own bathroom through there,” I said, gesturing into the room.

Sophie took slow steps in. “This is great. Thank you.”

“Let me get you something to sleep in.” I left her there and ducked into my room to get a clean t-shirt, then brought it to her.

“This will be perfect,” she said, taking it from me. “Thanks again.”

“Of course. You need anything, just let me know.”

“Okay.” She clutched the shirt to her chest. “Goodnight, Cox.”

“Night, sugar. Get some rest.”

Although every molecule in my body raged in protest, I left and shut the door behind me.

Standing just outside her door, I ran my hands through my hair. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep tonight.

20

Cox

I stared at the ceiling, annoyed. It was fucking late. I just wanted to sleep.

I’d stayed up for a while after Sophie turned in. Nursed a glass of whiskey and tried to make sense of everything. I hadn’t come to any conclusions, other than the thought of Sophie sprawled out in bed wearing nothing but my t-shirt was enough to give me a very persistent hard-on.

It was like when we were kids and the sight of those blond curls had revved me up in ways I hadn’t been able to understand. Or cope with.

Now I was wide awake in bed with an aching cock and the object of my fantasies—from then and now—was one room away. Sound asleep, no doubt, but still. She was there. And her presence haunted me.

Fuck this.

My hand hurt from punching that guy in the jaw, but not so much that I couldn’t take care of business. I ripped the covers off and took a deep breath.

Then I grabbed my very stiff erection and went to work.

I kept my eyes on the ceiling, but that wasn’t what I saw. No. Curly blond hair. Luscious curves. Smooth skin. What would I do to that girl if she were here right now?

Anything she wanted.

My hand moved up and down my hard length. This wouldn’t take long. Sophie on top of me, straddling my hips. She’d sink down onto my cock and I’d watch while she rode me. While her tits bounced, her hips rolled, and her hair cascaded around her shoulders. I’d caress those curves, thrusting up into her, sliding through her wetness.

Fuck. I stroked faster. God, I wanted her. I wanted her so bad I could already taste her. Swallowing a groan, I licked my lips, imagining her taste. Licking her until she begged me to stop. Then climbing on top of her and—

My door creaked and a small shaft of light broke through the darkness.

Sophie stood in my doorway, dressed in nothing but my t-shirt, her nipples poking against the thin fabric.

And here I was with my dick in my hand, about a minute away from coming.

Well, shit.

She took it all in—every bit of me, from my eyes to