Unfortunately Yours (A Vine Mess, #2)

“No, but we should definitely test the lift theory when we get home.”

They were in the middle of the dance floor having this conversation, and August was pretty damn sure Natalie had no idea she was dancing. As if he didn’t already find this woman attractive beyond human comprehension, she had to go and look good cutting a rug, too. Just effortless and fluid and sexy. In rhythm. How was it even fair?

“You’re proposing that, after we’ve both consumed our fair share of champagne, we go home and try the Dirty Dancing lift?”

He winked at her. “You’re damn right, princess.”

She pitched toward him, laughing. “Do you think they’ll give us lollipops if we’re brave enough in the emergency room?”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and end up on Sex Sent Me to the ER.”

“In your wildest dreams, Cates.”

“In your wildest dreams, Cates.”

Natalie jolted slightly. “Oh my God, I’m Natalie Cates now.”

His bow tie was suddenly way too tight. “It has a certain ring to it.”

The shake it down, shake it down now portion of the song started and he hit the running man while she effortlessly worked the Batusi. Shit, he was falling deeper for her the longer this song went on. His team would love her. They’d worship the ground she walked on for not putting up with his crap but occasionally giving in, wouldn’t they? “We’re doing the lift.”

“We’re so not doing the lift.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“A concussion, for one.”

He scoffed. “You seriously think I would ever drop you? My beloved wife?”

This time when she laughed, her eyes were sparkling, the sound piercing him right in the middle of his chest. Although he wondered if she would be laughing if she knew he wasn’t laying it on all that thick. She danced for another few seconds, then rolled her eyes up at the ceiling. “Fine, we’ll try it. But if I end up with an injury, you’ll be waiting on me hand and foot until I’ve healed.”

“I’d do that anyway, if you asked me to.”

If the music wasn’t blasting, August was pretty sure he’d have heard Natalie gulp. “You’d wait on me hand and foot?”

“Yes. At least until I annoyed you enough to be banned from entering your room. Even on my best behavior, that could happen pretty quickly.” She was biting her bottom lip to keep her full smile from blooming again. They were close enough now that he could see the indentation of her teeth and the light sheen in the hollow of her throat that was proof of a good dance session. His hands were on her hips before he realized they were moving and, praise Jesus, her eyelids drooped on contact, followed by a measured intake of her breath. “We fail at the lift, I become your servant. We succeed . . .”

He pressed and dragged his thumbs along the curve of her hip bones, tugging her close by the skirt of the wedding dress.

“What?” she said, though he could only read her lips as he looked down at them from above. She must have been whispering.

“I give you a proper wedding night,” he said.

She huffed an incredulous laugh. “Pretty sure that’s a prize for you.”

He brought his mouth to her ear and felt his own eyelids grow heavy at the waft of her scent. “No lies detected. I’m gonna love going down on you, princess.”

Her quick release of breath bathed his throat, making his stones feel weighty, the nape of his neck beginning to sweat. “That’s . . . your prize?” she asked, finally, her tone threadbare.

“Uh-huh.” He slid his palms around to the small of her back and crushed her closer, letting her feel the resulting rumble in his chest. “It’s kind of a two-part prize, to be fair. First, I finally, finally get to fucking taste it, Natalie.” They both shuddered. “Second, every time you look at me in the future, you’ll have this knowledge in your eyes. That I know exactly where your clit is located and what the hell to do with it.”

The song ended.

She shoved away from him with a flushed face.

Applause broke out from the perimeter of the dance floor, startling her. And it gratified August to no end that when she was alarmed, she reached for him instinctively, fingers curling in the starched white material of his shirt. Before she could recover and step away from him again, August wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her closer, leaning over to plant a kiss on the crown of her head, the wedding photographer snapping away with pops of light.

Oh yeah. His heart boomed. They were in this.

The applause and whistles died and Natalie eased away, leaving the dance floor with a wary backward glance in August’s direction. Correction: he was in this.

In order to get his heart off the chopping block, he needed to bring her along.

Starting with an overhead lift. Jesus.

On the way off the floor, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started googling.





Chapter Fifteen




The limousine ride back to August’s home was short.

But effective.

Everything today involving this man classified as potent.

She couldn’t even blame it on the champagne, because she’d barely stopped talking long enough to drink two glasses. After they’d walked out of the reception and everyone threw handfuls of obligatory rice at them, August had pulled her into his lap in the back of the limousine and proceeded to pick the tiny, white grains out of her hair, his fingertips brushing the nape of her neck repeatedly. Out of self-preservation, she’d crawled over to the opposite seat, giving him an affronted look.

But the damage was already done.

She was turned on by her fake husband.

Not just buzzing with an electrical current of attraction, either. This was a full-on meteor shower of hormones, the likes of which she’d never experienced in her life. Not for her former fiancé. Not for anyone.

She needed to shut this down immediately.

This was a marriage inspired by advantages. Money. Eventually it would be over and they would walk away, hopefully better off than they started. This was not a long-term situation and introducing the complications of sex was a very, very bad idea.

God forbid it turned out to be good.

What would she do then?

Don’t pretend you don’t already know it would be good.

The fact that August had even mentioned her clit boded extremely well, let’s be honest. It wasn’t something that typically rolled off a man’s tongue—before or during the act—unless he valued the woman’s pleasure as much as his own. She would not have assumed that about the hulking SEAL who had somehow gotten red wedding cake frosting in his hair, even though they’d both been handed forks.

On the other hand, maybe it was a signal that he did excel at . . . giving pleasure?

“You’re thinking about me going downtown, aren’t you?” August drawled from the other side of the limousine, the cat fast asleep between his feet, purring loud enough to drown out the limo’s engine. “How does it feel? I’ve been thinking about it for over a month.”

They slowed to a stop in front of his house and the driver alighted, his footsteps on the gravel loud in the sudden silence. “I think we should put this bet off until we’re both totally sober.”

An eyebrow went up. “You had one, maybe two, glasses of champagne, Natalie.”

Had he really been paying that close attention? “If that’s true, why am I considering a dangerous dance lift with oral sex as the prize?”

A grin spread across his mouth. “Maybe you’re drunk on my charisma.”

“Nope.” Her stupid heart wouldn’t slow down. Slow down. “That’s definitely not it.”

The door of the limousine opened and August exited, cat cradled in his left arm, reaching in to help her out. He released her from his grip only long enough to tip the driver a twenty and throw him a salute, before recapturing Natalie’s hand and guiding her up the steps of the house.

“You said there was a wedding present waiting for me at home,” she said, bracing herself. “Is there a bucket of water inside, resting precariously above the door?”

“Even I am not dumb enough to ruin a woman’s wedding-day makeup,” he said, chuckling. “By the way, if you can drop the word ‘precariously’ into a sentence, you’re stone-cold sober.” He set the cat at his feet, gave the feline a quick scratch behind the ears, then unlocked the door, pushing it open. Natalie was too distracted by the streak of fur disappearing into the darkness to realize August’s intention—and then it was too late.

She was in his arms being carried over the threshold.

“This is highly unnecessary.”

“It’s tradition among the Adonis culture.”

She snorted and tried not to enjoy herself.

“Natalie . . .” He stopped in the middle of the kitchen, still holding her without any signs of exertion—which made her chances of coming out on top of the bet feel slim. “I got your present before you gave me mine. The picture of Sam. I was a little slow on the uptake and I didn’t realize . . . we were swinging for the fences, you know?”

“That wasn’t . . .” Her laughter was halting. “I wouldn’t call that swinging for the—”