He frowned and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure I understand the correlation between this”—he glanced down at our joined hands—“and . . . the speeches.”
“Because I can’t focus on anything but you when you touch me.”
He held my gaze for too long and then said in a raspy whisper, “I don’t want to focus on anything else when I’m touching you.” He withdrew his hand and began to clap as Noah was introduced, leaving me desperate for a fan, a drink, some air. This man was meant to be someone to pass the time with while at a wedding, not someone who left me breathless and had me wondering whether or not I’d left my bedroom a mess.
Throughout Noah’s speech and then Truly’s, Nathan did as I’d asked and kept his hands to himself. Although he was simply honoring my request, part of me spent the time wondering whether he would touch me again and if he did, would it really feel as powerful as it had done the first time?
By the time the speeches were over, I was a tightly wound ball of craving. I had started to wonder what a man like Nathan could do when we were naked. If he could completely unravel me with just a graze of my leg, what waited for me when it was just the two of us, alone and uninhibited?
“I’m glad Truly got to speak,” he said as Truly sat down. “I’ve always found it ridiculous that only the groom gets a say at these things.” He reached over for his tequila and topped us both up after the woman the other side of him refused.
“That’s very evolved of you,” I replied, not expecting him to have a thought about it.
“If you knew me, you wouldn’t be so shocked.” He took a sip of his drink and fixed me with his gaze.
For a second, a picture of him flashed in my head: a park, springtime, cherry blossoms and laughter. And though I couldn’t see myself beside him, I knew I’d made him laugh. The vision of it was so clear, it could have been a memory. I cleared my throat and came back to myself.
“You keep telling me how you’re different to the man in the papers. Maybe the gentleman doth protest too much,” I said, teasing because he hadn’t really been protesting much at all.
He shrugged, and I realized I wished I knew him a little better. I wanted more of him than small talk and unintentional touches. I wanted to sleep with this man. I hadn’t kidded myself into thinking he wanted anything more than one evening with me—he’d been perfectly clear, which was . . . refreshing. But I wanted to explore him a little longer.
And I’d just done my bikini line yesterday, and my legs had been waxed only a week ago. If I was going to have an impromptu one-night stand, tonight was as good a time as any. We had mutual friends, so he likely wasn’t harboring some secretly violent, sadistic side. I’d make him wear a condom. What did I have to lose? Worst case scenario, I’d have some mediocre sex. Best case scenario, I’d get to see his body naked, forget I had a career to salvage, and maybe even have an orgasm, which hadn’t happened courtesy of someone else in a long while.
“So, what’s next?” Nathan asked as people started getting up from their seats.
“Cake cutting and then the first dance.” I stood and moved around my chair. Nathan did the same. “And then I’d say we can excuse ourselves.”
“We can?” he asked.
“If you still want to?”
“If you’re saying in rather a roundabout way that you want to see me naked then yes, I still want to.” He slid his hand onto the small of my back and led me toward the gathering crowd around the cake.
“If I ever get married, I’d just have dinner with a bunch of people. No ceremony. No white dress. Does all this,” I said, gesturing to the people and the cake and the ballroom, “appeal to you?”
“I don’t have to think about it. Marriage isn’t . . .” He paused, keeping his gaze forward. “I have no interest in getting married, so it’s not something I’ve considered.”
“Oh?” I said, painting on a disappointed expression. “And I was working up the courage to propose.”
He chuckled. “Well, if you’re asking, maybe I’d say yes.”
I laughed. He seemed to take everything in his stride. “Let’s see what you’re like in bed first. You might have a tiny penis.”
“Madison Shore, I made a promise to you never to joke about cutting off your hair. You have to promise me never to joke about me having a small penis.”
I laughed and elbowed him in the ribs.
“I mean it,” he said, narrowing his eyes as if he were giving me a grave warning.