Page 55 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

My eyes glass over when he coils his hand around my ponytail and gently tugs, forcing me to tip my chin until our lips brush. I suck in a breath. I don’t have time to negotiate when he does things like this. He’s too persuasive. Too hot. The promise I made to myself earlier dissipates because I want to kiss him. Just once.

Our lips touch and, oh God, he tastes like temptation. His kiss is soft and then sweet, but turns intensely greedy and dangerous. Our bodies wind closer, tighter.

I break away with heavy breaths. Are my breasts heaving? I glance down and see they are, in fact, heaving. My eyes widen.

My heart rate accelerates when I make eye contact with Nathan. Lust deepens in his darkening gaze, and a feral rumble emanates from his chest. He looks like he wants to ravage me.

One more time won’t hurt.

We dive into each other again like a category five hurricane of body parts wrapped around each other. His tongue searches my mouth in hot, determined sweeps. Strong hands cup my butt cheeks and lift me from the floor until I’m swept up in his addictive fervor. Our centers press close, rubbing needy spots, teasing my itch.

“There he is!” someone yells.

Nathan stiffens and then groans in defeat. Our mouths disconnect. Our foreheads touch as we inhale each other’s ragged breaths. My leg drops, and Nathan lowers me to the floor like we’re deflating. Excited screams pierce our shrinking bubble. Fans stampede in our direction.

“We’ll finish this soon,” Nathan says.

“If you survive your fans,” I say, knowing full well it’s me who may not survive him.

“I’m the alpha of this pack.” His cocky attitude resurfaces. He stands taller, his chest puffed.

With his amped demeanor, he steps out from our hiding spot, ready to play the part of Wolf Savage, famous dancer and sex god. His transformation is utterly mesmerizing.

Now alone, I rub my fingers over my scorched lips, replaying our steamy kiss. I’m not sure how it happened. One second, we were joking around, and in the next, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Left unchecked, we might have ended up back in our room, naked.

I hold on to the column for support as the corresponding images dash through my mind. I inhale deeply, trying to summon some willpower.

I need to get a handle on this. Fast.

I’m transfixed as Nathan interacts with his fans. His showstopping personality dazzles every person in his line of sight. In Wolf Savage mode, he oozes masculinity, exotic heat, and something I don’t expect—absolute kindness.

Nathan takes his time with every single fan, from the most outrageously dressed to the shyest. He autographs headshots and poses for selfies. He swing dances with a little girl while her mom captures a video. My heart clenches when she presses her cheek to his side in a hug. Everyone is charmed, not just me.

“How does it feel to be adored by that guy?” Sophia moves to my side and extends a hand in the direction of the commotion. If she didn’t before, it’s clear she knows who he is now.

“It feels unreal.”

The level of attention he gives me is as dreamlike as the deal we made. My lips still burn from his fiery kiss. My nipples still beam like headlights. I hold my stomach, where heat churns low and tight. There are so many urges and feelings to unpack, but I need to abandon them to get through my day.

Nathan is wrangling fans when I leave with the bridal party. For some reason, I’m sad when I can’t catch his attention one last time before I go.

In the hotel’s valet lane, the bridesmaids crowd inside the Beefmobile.

Roman has hired a driver for the day. I suspect not so much out of the goodness of his heart, but for the marketing power it delivers. There will be thousands of photos of the Beefmobile all over South Florida’s social media by midnight. Back home, online orders will skyrocket.

The driver delivers us to a bridal shop in historic Coral Gables. Underneath a crystal chandelier, the ladies sip champagne while lounging on pink velvet sofas, surrounded by lush vegetation, chirping birds, and trickling water fountains.

Sophia appears through a set of ornate doors in her wedding gown. Her dress is sleek and modern with a plunging neckline. She glides across the space. An elegant train puddles around her heels when she steps in front of a three-way mirror.

Behind me, the ladies ooh and ah.

I’m immediately misty-eyed, but not for the reason I expect.

“Roman isn’t good enough for you, Fifi,” I say, telling her the truth. The more I learn about her personality, the more I believe Roman preyed on her desperate need to be loved and accepted.

Sophia chuckles. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

I take her hand in mine and squeeze. That’s what a best friend would do, right?