Accidentally Married to Brother's Best Friend Read online

  Accidentally Married to Brother’s Best Friend

  Sofia T Summers

  Contents

  Description

  Prologue: Lyric

  1. Preston

  2. Lyric

  3. Preston

  4. Lyric

  5. Preston

  6. Lyric

  7. Preston

  8. Lyric

  9. Preston

  10. Lyric

  11. Preston

  12. Lyric

  13. Preston

  14. Lyric

  15. Preston

  16. Lyric

  17. Preston

  18. Lyric

  19. Preston

  20. Lyric

  21. Preston

  22. Lyric

  23. Preston

  24. Lyric

  25. Preston

  26. Lyric

  27. Preston

  28. Lyric

  29. Preston

  Epilogue: Lyric

  Dating My Brother’s Best Friend (Sample)

  Read ALL of Brother’s Best Friends here

  Connect with Sofie

  Copyright © 2020 by Sofia T Summers

  All rights reserved.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Description

  I am the damn wedding planner.

  And the planning fails so badly that I get hitched instead of the bride!

  Can you believe who the groom is?

  My teenage crush.

  My brother’s best friend.

  My worst enemy.

  And now I am stranded in the middle of a snowstorm with my new ‘husband.’

  Well, that’s not the kind of honeymoon I dreamt of!

  Let the complications begin.

  Prologue: Lyric

  When I’d pictured college parties, I definitely hadn’t pictured holding a red solo cup full of cheap, weak, nasty beer while some guy I knew from high school tried to impress me with his knowledge of obscure movie quotes.

  And yet, here we were.

  I’d thought this would be fun—lots of dancing, feeling pleasantly buzzed and floaty, having fun flirting with cute guys and maybe—if I was very, very lucky—just maybe getting to talk to Preston Clark for a bit.

  Not that I thought I’d actually get to properly flirt with him. Preston was my brother’s best friend, and Tenor still looked at me half the time like I was twelve, even though I was already in college. But oh, no, I was barely a sophomore and Tenor was a senior, big man on campus, all that noise. I was sure that Preston saw me the same way. Just the cute, awkward younger sister.

  But I could dream of being a little flirty with him, right? Hoping to talk to him wasn’t too much to ask of the universe, was it?

  Except instead of the crazy, fun time I’d been expecting, I was bored out of my mind.

  “Great one!” I said, laughing. I had no idea what movie quote this guy had just thrown at me and I didn’t care. “Look, this is fascinating, but I need to…” I waved my cup in the air in a vague gesture that could’ve meant anything from “I need a refill” to “I need to throw this away.”

  “Oh I can…” The guy reached for my cup but I quickly darted back out of his reach.

  “No, no worries, I’ve got it!”

  I seized my chance and disappeared into the crowd. Actually, maybe I would throw this cup away. Whoever had bought the beer had shit taste. Not that I could exactly blame them, we were college kids on a budget. Who could afford good beer? Not me, that was for sure.

  “Lyric Dean, as I live and breathe.”

  I turned and found myself face to face with none other than Preston.

  My breath caught. He was so handsome, always had been. Everyone else (including Tenor) had this awkward acne-covered teen face, but not Preston. He’d been a cute kid, a handsome young man, and now looked like some kind of sex god. If I’d been a man, I would’ve been insanely envious. Instead, I just wanted to climb him like a tree.

  “Preston,” I blurted out, pleased with myself that I didn’t stutter. His rich dark eyes bore into mine and I wanted to just get lost in them. “You look good.”

  He did look good, sporting a dark blue button-down shirt that was halfway unbuttoned, giving a tantalizing peek of his chest, the sleeves rolled up to show off his lightly tanned, toned forearms. The black, formfitting jeans he was wearing neatly straddled the line between sophisticated and casual. But really? Was that all I could come with? You look good?

  I was hopeless.

  “Speak for yourself.” Preston looked me up and down and I flushed. I had spent way too long trying to pick a dress to wear, wanting to impress without being overdressed. I liked to think the dark green brought out the lighter green of my eyes and complimented my red hair. “I’m surprised Tenor isn’t fending off your suitors with a stick.”

  “He’s performing across town tonight.” Tenor had a band, because he wanted to follow in Mom’s footsteps. I supposed with a name like ‘Tenor’ it was kind of inevitable. He’d never be a lawyer like Preston, not with that name. He’d never get people to take him seriously.

  “Good for him. He’ll be big someday, just you wait.”

  My mom’s biggest dream. I’d never hear the end of it if Tenor did, in fact, make it big as a musician. “So, you as bored as I am?” I asked, taking a chance.

  “Oh, insanely. I was just about to call it quits when I saw you.” Preston smiled at me and I felt my stomach melting. He had the most gorgeous smile. It stopped my heart every damn time. “How’d your summer go?”

  “Great!” I lied. I’d spent it working three jobs to supplement my scholarship here at Amherst. Not all of us had rich families to pay for college for us, but it wasn’t like Preston could help that. He hadn’t chosen which family he’d been born in, after all. I didn’t want to embarrass him. “How about you?”

  Preston pulled a face. “How about we don’t discuss the internships?”

  I laughed. “We can avoid discussing whatever you want.”

  “Then whatever are we going to talk about?” Was I imagining it, or was Preston giving me a… flirtatious look?

  Faint heart never won fair lady, or whatever the saying was. I swallowed. “Well, we could always stop talking and do something else.” I indicated the dance floor. “Want to dance?”

  Preston glanced over. “Mmm. I mean, it would be rude of me to say no when such a gorgeous girl’s asking me. And since Tenor’s not here, as his best friend I have to do his job for him and keep all the annoying frat boys away from you.”

  Trust me, there’s only one guy I want near me. “I’m sure Tenor would be grateful for the assist.”

  Preston held out his hand and gave an elaborate, exaggerated bow. I laughed. “Shall we, my lady?” he asked in a purposefully horrible and posh British accent.

  I laughed and took his offered hand, letting him lead me into the crowd of dancers. It was a bunch of drunk college students, so it wasn’t exactly a ballroom dance hall, but that didn’t matter when it created a dense crowd and Preston had to press himself up against me.

  We danced to a few songs, Preston’s hands on my hips, his forehead pressed to mine so that I could hear the jokes he was making. I had a thrill running up and down my spine the entire time, wanting this to never stop, wanting to never be separated.

  We
did take a break after a while, grabbing something to drink. Preston had obviously already had a couple beers before coming here, but he wasn’t out of control, or even really properly drunk—just a bit tipsy and more relaxed than I’d ever seen him before.

  Preston was going to be a lawyer, everyone knew it, it was his passion. And his family had high expectations for him. Everyone who knew Preston knew that, they’d never made an attempt to hide it. He was always hardworking, always focused. This was the first time I’d seen him really relaxed and laidback. I loved seeing this other side of him—this side that cracked jokes and made me laugh.

  “Let’s dance some more,” he suggested. His voice was lower and huskier now, like there was an intention behind it, and I couldn’t lie—I was playing it up. I was pressing up against him, stroking his arm, smiling at him while peeking up through my lashes. And he was responding! When was I going to get another chance like this? With Tenor out of the way and Preston relaxed and me actually looking good with my hair and makeup done?

  “I’d love that,” I told him, grabbing his hand and leading him out onto the dance floor.

  It was even more crowded and crazy now, with everyone drunk as hell and flailing or making out. I had to press up against Preston to stay with him and not get wrenched away, holding onto his shoulders. Preston didn’t seem to mind, pressing his nose into my hair and keeping his hands on my hips to hold onto me.

  The music was barely audible over the crazy noise of the partying people around me, but I could feel the bass beating through the floor, giving me a rhythm to move with. I turned around, pressing back against Preston, grinding against him. I’d never been this bold with a guy before—I was normally too scared of rejection—but I had a few beers in me now and I was feeling bold.

  Preston sure seemed to like it. He wrapped an arm around my waist, his chest pressed to my back, and I tipped my head back and rested it on his shoulder. I could feel his muscles, strong and rippling, all up against me and I had to swallow down a moan. His arm was like a band of iron, keeping me against him and away from anyone else who thought they might want to make a move on me, the two of us swaying and grinding to the music. Preston rolled his hips and I inhaled sharply, feeling him starting to get hard against my ass.

  I shivered, and Preston moved his hand down from my waist to my thigh, squeezing. I gasped. Preston’s gaze grew heated, and he trailed his fingertips up higher, just underneath the hem of my dress, stroking my heated skin.

  Oh God. I could feel myself getting wet. I wanted those fingers to move up higher, to get inside of me…

  If this was going to keep going then we needed to find somewhere quiet and private. I wanted Preston to fuck me, but I didn’t want to do it in public on the dance floor in front of everyone.

  “C’mon, I need some air.” I tugged on his hands and lead him away, looking around for an empty room. It would be hard, given that this place was filled to the brim with people, but I was determined. There had to be an empty space somewhere.

  That empty space, it turned out, was the laundry room. It was dark, and nobody else was in here—maybe because of the smell of detergent? If you were too drunk, the smell would probably make you sick. I closed the door behind us and locked it (thank God there was a lock, the last thing I wanted was someone walking in on us).

  Taking a deep breath, I turned around to look at Preston. There was light coming in through the window from the porch light, just enough that I could see his face. He was smiling at me softly, his gaze trailing up and down my body, like he was mapping it out with his eyes.

  Now was the moment. When was I going to get a chance like this again? A chance to actually act on the crush I’d had since I was about twelve? A chance to be with the man I’d been dreaming about for years?

  I stepped forward, slid my hands up his arms to his shoulders, and toyed with his open collar. Preston stared down at me—it looked like he wasn’t even daring to breathe, and honestly, I wasn’t sure that I was, either. I wanted to do this, but I was so nervous about doing it wrong, my heart was hammering. What if Preston didn’t want me? What if I was mistaken?

  Just go for it, I told myself, and I got up onto my tiptoes and kissed him.

  Preston grabbed onto me, kissing me back, surprisingly soft and gentle considering that this was technically a drunken fumble in the dark. His hand came and gently tilted my face up, just under my chin, soft and strangely… romantic, honestly. It was the kind of move I would expect from someone at the end of a date, on the steps of my front door, not in the laundry room at the beginning of a tipsy hook up.

  God, he kissed so good. He kissed me soft and warm and sure, sliding his tongue across my bottom lip and then, on my gasp, licking inside of my mouth, sucking on my tongue. I’d made out with a few other guys, but nothing like this. This was someone who knew what he was doing and who was taking his time.

  I moaned, flushed all over, heat pulsing through me, my underwear already soaked—and that seemed to be like dumping a bucket of cold water over Preston’s head.

  He stepped back away from me, taking his hands off of me, his eyes a bit wide. “Lyric. We can’t do this. Tenor will kill me.”

  I shook my head. “No, he won’t.”

  “You’re his little sister.”

  “He doesn’t own me. I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m a sophomore, for crying out loud. We can make our own choices separate from Tenor. Besides.” I stepped up to him again, swaying my hips and sliding my hands up the sides of my body, showing off my curves. Preston’s eyes followed my hands, and I smirked, pleased to know that I was attractive to him, that I could be sexy to him. “What Tenor doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  Preston still looked torn. I took another deep breath and pressed myself up against him, wrapping my arms around his neck and softly kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’ve wanted you for so long, daydreamed about you… please, Preston, please.”

  A low groan escaped Preston and he grabbed onto me, pulling me to him, his grip tight. I wondered if I would have bruises from his fingers later, and I shivered in anticipation. I wanted to have his marks on me. I wanted evidence that this had happened.

  Preston got his hands under my ass and picked me up—I let out a squeak of surprise. I knew that he was strong, he’d been on the football team in high school and had continued playing sports in college, I think both for exercise and to look good on his transcript when applying to law schools, but it was one thing to know something intellectually and another thing entirely to experience it. I had never really felt Preston’s strength before, and it made me hot all over. It felt like I was on fire. I had never wanted someone so badly before.

  I wanted to keep going, to push forward, to go hard and fast. I had never had sex before and I wanted it so badly, but I hadn’t done it with anyone yet because I had wanted it with someone who would actually be good at it. I didn’t want some fumbling guy who didn’t know what he was doing. And I didn’t want a guy who wouldn’t respect me the next day.

  Out of all the men that I knew, I trusted Preston would respect me in the morning. I’d never see him be anything but respectful towards women—and besides, I was the sister of his best friend, how could he not be respectful? Both because of the potential consequences and because I knew Tenor never would trust someone who was an asshole. I trusted that he would know what he was doing because, well. I’d heard the stories. Preston was going to show me a damn good time and I couldn’t wait.

  Finally, I had the man I’d been crushing on, a man who would respect me and show me just how good sex could be, what the fuss was all about. I was squirming on the washing machine, spreading my legs, more than ready for it.

  But Preston only chuckled, pressing himself against me and continuing to kiss me. “We’re not rushing this,” he promised me. “If you go too fast then you can’t really enjoy it.”

  His fingers rubbed slowly up my thighs as he gently kissed the corner of my mouth. “And I want to make sure…�
�� He kissed the other corner of my mouth. “…that you enjoy this.”

  My breath was coming in hot and fast, my body tingling. I wanted his hands all over me, almost dizzy with desire. “I’m already enjoying it.”

  Preston looked amused. “You just think you are. Wait until you see how good it could be.”

  Then he spread my legs and dropped to his knees.

  My breath caught in my throat as I watched him settle in and kiss up my legs. Oh my God. I had—I mean, I hadn’t been living under a rock, I knew what cunnilingus was, but I honestly hadn’t expected Preston to perform it. I’d figured he’d finger me open.

  But no, he was kissing my thighs decadently, like I tasted like the finest chocolate. He nipped at my soft skin with his teeth, making jolts of heat shoot through me, making me squirm. He lapped over each spot with his tongue and sucked on it, until small red spots were dotted all over my legs. I dared to slide my hand into his hair, and Preston turned, kissing my wrist in approval, before pushing the skirt of my dress up.

  I was sure he could smell me, could see how wet I was, and I felt an odd moment of embarrassment. I worried that—that I would be, well, not good enough. That it would be weird and not sexy. I had always been confident in my looks. I was damn sexy, heavy and curvaceous, and I knew it. But for the first time I was really worried that—that I was somehow doing this wrong, that Preston would find me lacking and gross.