Sex, Not Love

by Vi Keeland

  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?

  “You’re out of your mind. In fact, just about everything you’ve said to me since we met has been inappropriate.”

  “So only you can talk about your plans to fuck someone? I can’t?”

  “I haven’t talked about my plans to sleep with anyone.”

  “You were talking to Anna about sleeping with Adam when we met.”

  “That was a private conversation.”

  He shrugged. “So’s this.”

  “But…” I was at a loss—partly because he was sort of right. In my mind, it was okay to talk about sleeping with someone to a third person, yet it was wrong for him to be so blunt when speaking directly to the party potentially involved. It didn’t really make sense, but I grasped at a reason that sounded logical. “You’re crass about it. I wasn’t explicit. It’s how you say it that’s offensive, not what you say.”

  “So you don’t like dirty talk? Maybe you haven’t had it done the right way before.”

  “I’ve had it done just fine.”

  “You do like dirty talk, then?”

  This man was impossible. Luckily for my sanity—and possibly my willpower—the song we were dancing to ended, and the DJ announced that it was time for dinner. Although Hunter still didn’t loosen his grip.

  “The dance is over. You can let go now.”

  “Save me another one later?”

  I smiled broadly. “Not a chance.”

  Of course, Hunter liked that answer. He chuckled and kissed my forehead. “Bet you’re a firecracker in bed. I can’t wait.”

  “Enjoy your evening, Mr. Delucia.”

  I felt his eyes on my ass every step I took to exit the dance floor.

  ***

  I’d only been legally single for not quite eighteen months. I had no intention of remarrying, so when it was time for the obligatory tossing of the bridal bouquet, I stayed in my seat. Of course, Anna wasn’t going to allow that. She grabbed the microphone out of the DJ’s hand and insisted that I, along with a few others who were shying away from this particular festivity, get our asses out on the dance floor. Rather than make a scene, I complied, though I intentionally stayed all the way off to the side by myself. I wanted nothing to do with that bouquet.

  The DJ prompted the audience to count down the toss as Anna stood in the middle of the floor with her back to all the anxious, single ladies.

  “3, 2, 1!”

  The big toss over the bride’s head never came. Instead, she turned and threw the damn thing directly to where I was standing off to the side. On instinct, I caught the hurtling bundle of flowers.

  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 m
inutes 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.

  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—a
nything 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.

  Hunter still hadn’t moved. In fact, he was snoring louder and more consistently now. I rushed to dress, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and rubbed some moisturizer on my face before shoving everything into my suitcase.

  I was about to sneak out when I decided I needed to know what had happened. Leaving my suitcase at the door for a quick escape, I quietly walked over to Hunter’s side of the bed.