Watch the bride and groom, people. They are way more interesting. And the reason you’re here in the first place.
The music is slow and classical when we walk onto the sparsely occupied dance floor. I falter momentarily, unsure how to do anything other than bump and grind or the slow-dance-sway from back in high school. I mean, how many times in your adult life does one actually go dancing to learn otherwise?
“Take my lead,” Hayes murmurs when he pulls me into him and begins to move. At first I think he’s just doing his own thing, but soon realize there is a definite pattern to his steps. A defined rhythm and timing.
When I lean back to look in his eyes and question him, I catch the grin on his lips and my heart melts. Right there on the dance floor. With my ex-fiancé and his new wife off to one side of the dance area and a room full of judging eyes directed at us.
“Dylan Jax. Middleman’s Move. I had to learn it for—”
“That one scene where you seduce your enemy’s wife,” I finish for him, remembering the movie quite clearly. Besides its complex plot and shocking twist, there were some pretty steamy scenes that may have had me rewind it once—or a hundred times.
His smile beams bright and eyes light up with pride. “See? You did watch my movies. I knew it.”
I throw my head back and laugh. It’s so easy to do with him. So natural to feel at ease. “Just that one,” I lie.
“Yeah. Uh-huh.” He spins me around before I can respond in any other way but laugh. The music changes to a more current song. It’s sexy. Bluesy. Allows me to relax and not worry about messing up his carefully timed steps. Instead I just move with him. Against him.
He makes it seem effortless. All of this. How he turned on the charm in front of the jerks here. How he’s helped me feel at ease in this awkward situation. How he makes me laugh and feel sexy and appreciated simultaneously.
Old feelings die hard.
But then again, I don’t think mine for him ever really died.
Our bodies move against each other’s. “You know what I keep thinking about?”
He asks it so casually that my response falls just as nonchalant. “Hmm?”
“I think you need to relax.”
“Is that so? How do you propose I do that?” My voice is coy. My body already wanting what the suggestion in his tone implies.
Hayes leans in, mouth against my ear. “I need to get you out of this dress.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm. While you look sexy as hell in it, I think it looks a bit stiff. Formal. Uncomfortable.”
He twirls me out. Pulls me back into him. Chest to chest. Our feet move again.
“And how will being out of this dress relax me?” His thigh moves between mine and rubs against the apex of my thighs. A hint of what’s to come.
“Because then I can taste you, Saylor. Run my tongue over your clit. Get you all worked up. Make you beg.”
My chuckle? It’s strained. Desperate. Fraudulent. “I won’t beg.”
He spins me around. I catch a glimpse of his challenging grin, and then I’m back against him.
“Oh, you’ll beg.” He presses a tender kiss to my lips that has my insides screaming when he ends it.
“Sound pretty sure of yourself.”
“It’s amazing the things a woman will say when her man is working his tongue in and out of her pussy.”
My mouth goes dry. Between my thighs grows wet. The dark promise of his words seduces every part of me. He spins me out again, makes me more than aware of the audience of disapproving eyes watching us.
“Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” He even makes that sound seem seductive.
“What exactly do women say?”
“Oh, yes. Fuck me. You last longer than I do. Harder. It’s so big. You’re. A. God.”
I can’t help but laugh again at his breathless voice as he says the words. Know he’s making fun of himself and love that he’s confident enough in his more-than-adept sexual skills to do so. “Really?”
“Most definitely.” He laughs. “But that’s not how a man knows he’s doing it right. Words are cheap. Actions prove everything.”
“So how does he know he’s doing it right?”
He spins me out and then back against him. In the few seconds apart, I’m already ready for the warmth of his body. His mouth is near my ear so the heat of his breath teases me. “A man knows he’s doing the job right when a woman pushes him away, tells him to stop licking her, and begs for his cock.”
That slow, sweet ache that has been simmering during this whole conversation—hell, who am I kidding, since he walked out of his room looking mouth-wateringly delicious in his suit and tie—has just been stoked brighter.
“Oh.”
He chuckles in my ear and I feel the rumble of it against my chest. Love the feel of his thigh rubbing between mine. “You still think you’re not going to beg, Saylor?”
“Words are cheap, Whitley. Actions prove everything.”
“Hayes Whitley? Seriously, Say? That’s who you left me for?” Mitch’s voice from behind me so bitter in tone, startles me, and yet I outwardly remain calm as can be.