Sex, Not Love(4)
I heard him chuckle. “Just wanted to tell you, my room is right next door. Even the hotel thinks we should sleep together.”
I shook my head, but smiled. “Goodnight, Hunter.”
“’Night, Natalia. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 2
Natalia
A team of people worked on the bride-to-be. Jack Johnson crooned about making waves, and the enormous bridal suite smelled of lilac—Anna’s favorite scent in the world. Every time I walked through the flower district in New York in the spring, I expected to see her around the corner.
Seeing me come in, she held a champagne flute up in her reflection in the mirror. “I’m getting fucking married.”
Normally, anything to do with marriage brought out my bitter and pessimistic side, but I tamped down my feelings on the subject for Anna’s sake. I took the flute from her hand and smiled back. “You’re getting fucking married.”
The stylist busy with her hair grinned and shook his head.
“We’re classy, what can I say?” I offered.
In two hours, my best friend would be walking down the aisle to marry a rich, nice looking, young techie, who worshipped the ground she walked on. It was a far cry from what my sham of a marriage had been.
“I saw Hunter follow you out the door last night,” Anna said. “Poor Cassie could barely keep up with how close he was to your tail.”
I needed my own mimosa for a discussion about that man. I finished Anna’s drink and went to the pitcher on the bar to refill hers and grab my own glass. “Do you remember when we were seventeen and I had that crush on Mr. Westbrook, the English substitute?”
“How could I forget? He was twenty-three and gorgeous.”
“Hunter’s…well, I’m not sure what to make of him, to be honest. He’s lewd, forward, persistent…sexy as hell.”
“Gorgeous, financially sound, confident, sexy as hell,” Anna added.
I sighed. “Yeah. All those. But there’s something about him…something I can’t put my finger on, that makes him feel as forbidden as Mr. Westbrook did in high school.”
Anna’s eyes flared at my reflection in the mirror. “Really?”
“What the hell are you smiling at, weirdo?”
“He feels forbidden because he gave you butterflies.”
“He did not,” I lied.
I wasn’t even sure why I was lying about it. Besides, the butterflies he gave me weren’t the usual kind that fluttered in your stomach—these flew a little farther south.
“Did too.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Then why not give in to it? You just said yourself that you thought he was sexy. You were thinking about sleeping with Adam, and he’s not half as sexy as Hunter.”
I thought back to the way Hunter’s hand had felt on my hip last night, and my belly fluttered once again. The damn things were teaming up with Anna to prove a point I wasn’t willing to accept.
“He’s too cocky for me.”
“You like cocky. In fact, every guy you’ve ever gone out with has been cocky.”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “I’m over cocky.”
Anna smirked and turned to her hairdresser. “She’s totally going to sleep with him.”
He looked up at me, then back to Anna. “I know.”
***
Derek and Anna married on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Even with my disdain for the institute of marriage, I cried tears of happiness. I’d noticed more than one of the groomsmen’s eyes filled, too. One, in particular, seemed to hold my attention. After the second time Hunter caught me checking out how handsome he looked with his tux and slicked-back hair, I’d managed to avoid making eye contact for the rest of the ceremony and the first hour of the reception. It wasn’t easy, considering we were in such close proximity for wedding-party duties, but somehow I succeeded.
Until I was dancing a slow song with Anna’s dad.
“Can I cut in?” Hunter tapped Mark on the shoulder. “You’re hogging the most beautiful guest all to yourself.”
Anna’s dad smiled and wagged a finger at Hunter. “You’re lucky you said guest, considering my bride looks so beautiful tonight.”
The two men did a bit of backslapping, and then I was in Hunter’s arms. Unlike Mark, who’d kept his body a polite distance from mine as we danced, Hunter took one of my hands in his, slid the other down my back and used it to pull my body flush. Damn, that feels good.
“You’re holding me a little tight.”
“Just making sure you can’t run away again.”
I pulled my head back. “Again? I’ve never run away from you.”
“Call it whatever you want, but you’ve been avoiding me like I have something contagious.”
I mumbled. “You probably do have something contagious.”
He ignored me. “You look beautiful tonight. I like your hair up.”
“Thank you.”
He pulled me still closer, forcing my head to turn into his shoulder, then dipped down to whisper in my ear. “I can’t wait to yank it down later.”
What balls on this guy.
And, God, why the hell did I want him to yank my hair down?