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It takes me a good twenty seconds to relocate my voice, which I do in no small part to avoid people watching at us just stare at each other.
“I’m not good at slow dancing,” I mutter.
“I’ll lead,” he responds, the deep timber of his decadent voice now rumbling through his body into mine.
“What a surprise,” I mutter as he leads us gently into a dance. “You know, some people think it’s rude to upstage the bride and groom on their wedding day.”
“I cleared it with the bride and groom,” he responds as I try for a second to find Carrie in the crowd to shoot her a look of most earnest reproach.
As my gaze wanders over his arm, I spot a guest filming us and another taking a picture and a hit of anxiety seizes my body at the thought that an image of us could end up on social media for my stalking ex to see.
I am single and by rights, I have the right to dance with anyone I want to, but when someone refuses to let go, that kind of logic goes out of the window, which is entirely the point: they want to know that they pollute every experience you have. That they still own you even when you’ve gotten away.
I glance at Greyson’s chest. “I see you finally got those beet stains out,” I say mock-innocently, smushing down a smile which makes his eyes warm.
“Not the same shirt, Indigo,” he replies wryly.
“Oh, really?”
God, I can be such a brat with this man…
The easy grace with which he moves me about makes me feel like being caught in some warm current. The strong hand around my waist pulls me closer but not so close that I touch his torso. I don’t think he’d do something that indecent…
“I suppose you enjoyed bidding on me,” I say, finally meeting his laser beam of a gaze again.
“I did.”
“It’s a ridiculous amount of money, you know?”
“It’s for a good cause.”
“Well, you know you’re only getting a dance for the money…”
Heat spreads throughout my body as his fingers squeeze my hand more tightly.
His next words leave me unable to comprehend how I’m still upright.
“It’s worth it already.”
I shake my head in an attempt to conceal my whimper as I try to ignore the pleasure spilling into the parts of my flesh he’s touching, to ignore the fact that the dense armor of his insanely honed body is inches away from mine.
“Enjoying the wedding?” he asks.
“Apart from the bridesmaid auction…” His sinful smile makes me bite my lip. “It’s beautiful…”
“Is this how you imagine getting married? At a place like this?”
“I’m never getting married,” I respond and his movement stops for a moment. He takes a second to watch me before easing us back into the dance.
“Why not?” he asks.
Oh, let me tell you a tale of family trauma, Greyson…
But of course, I don’t.
“I’m just…” I shrug. “Not marriage material.”
“What does that mean?”
