Sex, Not Love(7)

Hunter’s fingers grazed along at a slow and sensual pace, reaching the tippy top of the inside of my thigh. I could feel the heat of his hand radiating between my legs.

Even though we had a crowd watching, thanks to my bridesmaid’s dress, no one could see how far he’d gone. And while the entire crazy scene played out in erotic slow motion for me, Beyoncé wasn’t even done singing to the single ladies yet.

Hunter let his hand slip down to my knee and squeezed as he leaned in. “Don’t try to tell me I was the only one to feel that.”

The DJ asked everyone to give a round of applause, and Hunter kissed my cheek, stood, and held out his hand to help me up. I was still in a complete daze.

Anna’s brows drew down. “You okay?”

I cleared my throat. “I need a drink.”

“How about the four of us head to the bar for a drink?” Anna’s new husband said.

One drink led to two, two led to three, and three led to…





Chapter 3



Natalia





God, I feel awful.

My head was pounding, and my muscles ached. There was a damp spot on my pillow from where I must’ve drooled half the night. Without lifting my head, I glanced around the room and saw my suitcase on the stand in the corner—Jesus, I don’t even remember coming back to my hotel room. But I was damn glad I was here, rather than next door. I tried to think back to the last thing I remembered. Catching the bouquet, Hunter catching the garter, his hand under my dress.

Oh God. I felt like royal shit, yet that memory still stirred something inside me.

I remembered the four of us going to the bar—me, Anna, Derek, and Hunter. Hunter toasting to the three things you need most in life—a full bottle, a faithful friend, a beautiful woman—and to the man who has it all. I remembered Anna and Derek being called away for some pictures, and Hunter ordering us another round and telling me stories about him and Derek when they were little. He was definitely a natural charmer, but there was also something very endearing about the way he talked about his friend.

After that, things got fuzzy. I couldn’t for the life of me remember leaving the wedding or coming back to the hotel. Reaching over to the nightstand, I grabbed my phone to check the time. Shit. It was almost ten, and my flight was at one. I was just about to drag my lagging ass out of bed when a noise stopped me in my tracks.

It almost sounded like a snore.

A snore with deep vibrato.

I’d been lying on my side, and my head whipped around to look for the sound.

I froze, finding the source.

Froze.

I was pretty sure my heart skipped a beat or two.

A man lay in the bed next to me, facing the other direction. And from the width of his shoulders, I knew it wasn’t just any man. Yet I needed confirmation. Holding my breath, I leaned over the massive body and glimpsed at the face. Just as I caught sight of Hunter, he let out another loud snore, and I leapt from the bed. I stilled on my feet once I’d gotten control of myself, not wanting to wake him.

Shit. What did I do?

I tiptoed into the bathroom with my heart racing and my brain desperately trying to remember something from last night—anything that involved Hunter Delucia inside my room.

Inside me.

This was worse than my worst night in college. How could I not remember anything? My reflection answered me—I looked like death warmed over. My raven hair was a knotted ball—half up, half down with bobby pins falling out all over. My normally fair skin was paler than usual, and my green eyes were red and puffy.

It was then that I finally looked down. I was dressed in a T-shirt and sweats, but underneath I was still wearing a bra and panties. Forget that I didn’t remember getting dressed; this made me pause and wonder why I was dressed. Once my bra came off, it didn’t go back on. Not to mention, I wasn’t shy about my body—it wasn’t my M.O. to get myself fully re-dressed after a night of passion.

Is it possible we slept together and didn’t have sex?

I reached my hand down into my sweatpants and pressed against my privates. I wasn’t sore at all. Although that wasn’t proof positive—maybe the giant of a man currently snoring in my bed wasn’t anatomically correct and was a gentle lover. Neither seemed plausible.

I checked the garbage can for signs of a condom and the towel rack to see if any towels had been used to clean up last night. Nothing. But yet, I was a mess—it looked like I’d had wild and crazy sex…

Unfortunately—or perhaps it was fortunately—I didn’t have time to dwell on what had happened. If I wasn’t on my way to the airport in the next fifteen minutes, I was going to miss my flight.

After a quick shower, I dried off and tiptoed back out to my suitcase. I collected my clothes, but the garter that had started this mess was nowhere to be found, and I was disappointed I wouldn’t have it as a keepsake.