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Everything, basically. When catching sight of just one of those things is enough to make me hard.
The combination is gloriously infuriating.
Julia in a nutshell.
Goddamn I love this girl.
I keep things under control by focusing on the food. The conversation Julia and I have with our table mates. The fact that people love the barn and seem to appreciate the work and money we put into the property.
But when the band starts to play—first song is Al Green’s “All Night Long,” fuck me for life—I know I’m in trouble.
Julia is on her feet before the first verse is over.
“Wanna dance?” she asks, running a hand through her hair. The movement is slow and sensuous, and it makes me think about how slow she moves when she’s on top. Riding my cock like she’s got all day. Hands on my chest, head thrown back, tits bouncing. Back arched.
Pussy spread open. Soft and slick.
Jesus Christ.
I grab my water. How long until we go back to the hotel? An hour? A year?
Why the fuck did I think these pants were a good idea?
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I say. “Just gonna—”
Find that exorcist we keep talking about.
Gargle some gin.
You know, anything to keep my dick from literally tearing a hole in my pants until I can get this woman naked.
Julia smiles. “Okay. I’ll go find Gracie. But don’t think I’m going to let you off easy. You will get out on that dance floor tonight.”
Ford tips his glass in my direction. “You heard her, TDP.”
“I will,” I say.
If I don’t take a swim in the marsh nearby to cool the fuck off first.
I head to the bar for that gin. Order a double and turn around, leaning against the counter. Watch the dance floor fill up.
Doesn’t take long. The band is excellent, and people are just happy enough—just drunk enough—to let loose. Eli twirls Olivia to Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend.” During the next song, Gracie, Olivia, and a few older women—Olivia’s mom, maybe, and her friends—groove together, laughing.
Julia is with them. She’s kicked off her heels and is wiggling her ass, her sweet little belly along for the ride as she shimmies her hips in time to the beat.
She is so damn adorable. And sexy. And fun.
Makes me want to be fun, too. Makes me want to have a good time. It’s just been so long—
Then again, who cares? Why not celebrate? Life is good right now.
Things are good. And I’m just tipsy enough to really pull a Patrick Swayze. Or Chris Farley, depending on how it goes.
Julia is singing now, head thrown back as she belts out the lyrics to “Mustang Sally.” Shaking that thing like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
Her energy—zero fucks given—is contagious.
“Dude,” Luke says, sidling up to the bar. “You all right?”
I take a sip of gin, my eyes not leaving Julia. She’s doing the twist now with somebody’s grandma. I can’t help it. I smile.
“I’m fine. Why?”
Luke looks at me for a beat. Then he grins, tapping the neck of his beer bottle against my glass.
“Cheers, Greyson. Congrats. On the baby.” He motions to Julia. “And on her. Y’all look real happy together.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I appreciate that.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised y’all ended up together. I knew it the second y’all met—you two had some special kinda connection.”
I pull back. “But we didn’t get along. Like, at all.”
Luke wags his eyebrows. “Exactly. Look, even your sperm knew y’all were meant to be. I knew I’d either end up callin’ the cops on you or callin’ it love. Either way, y’all two couldn’t take your eyes off each other. That first day I had half a mind to just slip on out of there to give y’all some privacy.”
If only he knew Julia and I found all the privacy we needed in the back seat of my truck.
“Be good to her, you hear?” Luke says.
“That’s all I care about,” I say. “Her and that baby. Taking care of them. Making them happy.”
Luke nods, looking at the dance floor. Looking at Gracie.
“I know how that goes,” he says.
I catch Julia’s eyes. She smiles. Motions for me to come join her.
Luke sets his beer down on the bar.
“Let’s get to it,” he says.
I follow him to the dance floor, grateful I don’t have to weather the approach alone. Immediately Gracie loops her arms around his neck and pulls him down for a messy, wet kiss. The two of them disappear into the crowd, his hands sliding to her ass as they swing their hips to the beat.
Damn him, he makes it look so easy.
“Stop thinking,” Julia says, curling an arm around my waist. Pressing her body to mine. Oh, Lord. “You’re at a wedding where the average age is fifty-seven. Trust me, you’re going to look good out here no matter what.”
