Sex, Not Love(6)
Grrr. I wanted to kill her.
Especially when I looked across the room and saw Hunter exaggerating the cracking of his knuckles with a big ol’ smile on his face as he stared back at me.
Ten minutes later, I stood by Anna’s side watching the dance floor fill up with single men eager to catch the garter her husband had just removed. My hand clutched a strong vodka cranberry, should I need some liquid courage.
“If Hunter catches that thing, I’m going to kill you.”
“Those who protest the loudest generally have the most to hide.”
“Those who cause trouble get their skinny little asses kicked,” I tossed back.
“He’s a really great guy. I could think of worse people to stick their hands up your dress.”
“If he’s so great, tell me again why he wasn’t my partner?”
Anna sighed. “He’s smart, confident, and a total charmer.”
“And…”
“And I’ve also known him for four years now, and every time I see him, he’s with a different beautiful woman. I thought after Garrett, you might want a different type.”
I downed half my drink at the mention of my ex-husband. “Why am I attracted to assholes?”
“Because they’re attractive. That’s part of what makes them turn into assholes. And Hunter’s not a bad guy. He’s really not. I bet he’s great in bed, too. If I were in your shoes, I’d pick Hunter over Adam for a one-night stand.” She turned to face me. “Hunter’s sex, not love. As long as you go in with that frame of mind, I bet he blows your mind.”
A sudden loud roar called our attention back to the action. We’d missed Derek’s toss of the garter, but there was no missing the cocky smile on the man twirling the garter on his finger and looking in my direction.
“Any chance you aren’t sticking with the East Coast tradition where the guy who catches the garter puts it on the leg of the woman who catches the bouquet?”
Anna smirked. “Not a chance in hell.”
***
The drinks went straight to my head. After I downed the vodka cranberry I had while standing with Anna, I proceeded to order another and finish it off in record time. Which meant I had a nice buzz flowing by the time the DJ set up a lone chair in the middle of the dance floor and called my name. Derek and Anna also joined us as the entire wedding guest population looked on.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Nat?” the DJ said, tapping the chair. “Our beautiful bride left it up to the gentleman who caught the garter to select the song. I figured we’d give you a sample and see if it works for you since it’s your dress he’s gonna be under.”
The DJ pressed a button on his iPad, and music began to blare—AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long,” to be specific. After ten seconds, he hit another button, and the music silenced.
He spoke into the microphone again. “So what do you think? Has Hunter here picked the right song for the evening?”
I shook my head as the crowd laughed, and Hunter’s eyes gleamed.
“Alright then. Maybe we’re better off letting you pick the song. You have something in mind that seems more fitting, perhaps?”
I thought for a moment and then waved the DJ down so I could whisper in his ear.
He smiled and pushed more buttons on his iPad before speaking to Hunter. “I’m starting to pick up on a little disparity here—maybe some messages you two are hiding in your song choices.”
Hunter looked at me, and I shrugged just as the DJ started my song choice. Jason Derulo’s “Ridin’ Solo” blared overhead, and Hunter bent his head back in laughter. After everyone got a good laugh, the DJ told the crowd he thought things would run smoother if he picked the song.
So Hunter kneeled down on one knee to Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies.” Of course, he was quite the showman. He twirled the garter around on his pointer finger while gracing the onlookers with a megawatt smile. Then, he slowly lifted my foot, dropped a soft kiss on the top of it, and slipped the garter up my calf.
“Do we have a gentleman today?” the DJ asked over the microphone. “Will he go any higher?”
The wicked gleam in Hunter’s eyes told me he was not planning on being a gentleman. For the next few minutes, through chants of higher from the male portion of the wedding party, Hunter inched the garter up my leg. And he wasn’t just moving it along. His thumb lazily stroked the inside of my leg as he went. When he reached mid-thigh, he squeezed my leg to get my attention, and our eyes locked.
Then his hand kept going.
I hated that I didn’t stop him. I hated that my hands just sat dutifully by my sides, and my normally boisterous voice seemed to have been muzzled. But the reaction of my body made it impossible to object. The effect of his one hand was profound. My nipples pebbled, my breaths grew shallow, and goose bumps covered my skin. I was way more turned on than I should’ve been. And it wasn’t just his hand—it was the way he watched me. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was just as aroused as I was—and that really worked for me.