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Listening to him talk, I can see the part of him that’s the showman. The professional. The boss. The great leader.
His speech hits all the right notes. He tastefully compliments Leah and talks about how she’s added so much joy and love to Blake’s life. He adds a few funny anecdotes about the early days of his friendship with Blake that are genuinely funny.
Alexander’s speech is sincere and meaningful, and it gives a gravity to the whole event. It’s the kind of speech you actually listen to. With his dark good looks and his stormy allure, you can’t help but hang on his every word.
Turns out the grumpy billionaire is downright dreamy.
Stop falling for him this hard.
Alexander finishes the speech to loud applause. He goes over and shakes Blake’s hand and kisses Leah on the cheek.
And then he walks back to me, his eyes on mine. My breath catches.
Don’t you dare let your mind wander in crazy directions, girl, like the ones where you start to picture more than a weekend.
“Well done, Maddox,” I smile, congratulating myself on not sounding breathless.
“Thank you, Jones.” He sits and pulls me onto his lap. We fall into our rhythm, the one that started out as an act but has quickly evolved into an avalanche of feeling. I let my fingers weave through his thick hair because I want them to.
The rest of the speeches are given, some verging on awkward, others emotional and heartfelt. The food is outstanding, the champagne endlessly topped up. Blake and Leah cut the wedding cake. I’m high on sugar and Moët and the hard body of my suddenly not-so-fake date.
“You want to dance?” he drawls.
I nod and he pulls me onto the dance floor.
Alexander holds me close, his big hardness pressing against my stomach. I try to ignore the fact that I’m wet for him, that I’m not wearing panties and that something inside my heart feels light and airy, like the weight of the world isn’t quite so heavy in this sea-scented candlelit night.
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow or the day after. But tonight I allow myself to be just a little bit in love with Alexander Maddox.
“Leah and Blake seem so happy,” I say.
“I was there the night they met. Blake couldn’t take his eyes off her, from the very first time he saw her.” My hands instinctively curl around his neck, slowly and intimately. “I didn’t believe love at first sight was a real thing,” he adds, his gaze wolfish but also almost unsettlingly sincere. “Now I know better.”
I smile at his joke, but my throat feels tight.
One of the other groomsmen hovers near us for a few seconds like he’s thinking about breaking in for a dance, but Alexander turns us so his back is to the man, who eventually wanders off.
I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel so safe with him, so protected. Some buried, primitive instinct in me loves this. It’s a feeling a girl could get used to.
I don’t need a man, of course I don’t. I’ve never had one and we’ve managed just fine. I’m a capable, empowered, modern woman. But I haven’t spent a lot of my life feeling safe, and in this moment I can admit it’s wildly comforting.
I stare into his eyes, my body molten with his effect.
Alexander’s thumb brushes over my bottom lip. His kiss is gentle at first, but as his hands wander over my body, he presses harder against me, devouring my mouth. Our tongues tangle and slide. I can feel his cock pushing against me, thick and hard between us.
“I never thought I’d see the day our Alexander would fall so hard,” laughs Leah, and we break the kiss. She and Blake are dancing nearby, sort of drunkenly and very in love.
“Who can blame the man?” Blake laughs and Leah swats him playfully before they disappear back into the crowd.
“Come on,” Alexander says, taking me by the hand. “Let’s get out of here. It’s getting late.”
The party is really underway now. We’re not even halfway back to our table when I feel someone’s hand on my arm.
“Could I have this dance, Miss Laine?” a man asks.
Alexander and I both turn, and Alexander eyes the man aggressively. His eyes go dark and his whole body tenses. “Not a chance, buddy.”
The man isn’t smiling. He’s also not wearing the typical wedding outfit. It looks more like a business suit, like he stopped by after a long day at the office. He reaches into his jacket pocket and angles an ID card toward us. He does this discretely. “My name is Jack Dempsey. I’m a private investigator, hired by your father to investigate a recent incident. May I speak to you in private, Miss Laine?”
