30 - Jess
Jess
The silk emerald gown gripped my curves with the tight containment of a high-end sports bra, dropping in a fluid waterfall down to the floorboards. Stepping out of the bedroom into the living room provided an immediate, breathless silence from the makeshift gallery on the sofa.
Brock paused mid-pour, an amber splash of bourbon splashing over the rim of his glass onto the coffee table.
Hunter leaned forward, his elbows hitting his knees, his jaw dropping just enough to expose a glimpse of his white teeth.
David let out a high-pitched, theatrical gasp from his perch on the windowsill, fanning his face with an empty hand.
Dane remained leaning against the kitchen counter, his blue eyes narrowing to dark slits as his gaze raked from the plunging neckline down to the split at my thigh.
"If Amberleigh doesn't choke on her champagne the second you walk into that church, the entire trip is a failure," David announced, breaking the spell with a loud clap. "You look like a high-end felony, Jess."
"The color is perfect," Hunter murmured, his voice thick with an unvarnished warmth that sent a little ripple of heat down my spine. "You're going to destroy that wedding."
"The dress stays here," Brock grunted, finally setting the bottle down with a solid thud. "There's no way you're going to Baltimore looking like a walking public hazard without security."
The cynical voice in my head noted the predictable male panic with a wave of satisfaction. The greatest love story in the history of ever continued to pay massive dividends in the ego department.
Dane stepped away from the counter, gliding across the rug to slide the heavy oak coffee table three feet to the left, opening a wide patch of empty floorboards.
"Since the dress is a success, let's see if the investment in Sandy's boot camp paid off.
" He flourished a hand toward me, a cocky, challenging grin tugging at his lips. "May I have this dance?"
"Shut up, I'm not dancing with you in four-inch heels," the words left my mouth with zero hesitation.
David scrambled off the windowsill, giving my lower back a firm, uncompromising nudge that propelled me straight into the center of the room. "Oh, absolutely not. You two spent weeks avoiding rubber-soled shoes for this exact moment. Provide a demo for the class, Jess. Chop chop."
A tinny, orchestral waltz sputtered from David’s phone speakers as he hit play.
Dane didn't wait for permission. His palm slid onto my waist, cold and solid through the thin emerald silk, while his other hand captured my fingers, holding them with a firm grip. He took a huge stride forward, his leather shoe missing my toes by a millimeter as he initiated the box step.
"Left foot forward, side, together," Dane muttered, mimicking Sandy's tobacco-rasped cadence with terrifying accuracy. "Do not look at your feet, tall man."
My head dropped against his collarbone to muffle the laughter.
"Look at the posture on him!" Brock shouted from the couch, throwing a couch cushion at Dane’s ribs. "You look like a statue on wheels! Less muscle, more romance!"
"Easy there, big guy. You're waltzing like you're clearing a minefield," Hunter chimed in, his deep laugh filling the apartment as Dane executed a surprisingly clean left turn, his thigh brushing mine through the slit of the gown.
The physical chemistry between us flared up instantly, the memory of his leather couch and his concrete floors tightening my lower abdomen. Before the rhythm could settle, Brock bounced off the cushions, his hand clamping onto Dane's shoulder with a firm shove. "My turn. Step aside, corporate."
Brock cut in with a smooth pivot, his massive arms wrapping around my waist, lifting me an inch off the floorboards before setting me down into a fast, unpolished spin.
His grip felt different—less calculated than Dane's, more grounded in pure, physical strength.
He twirled me toward the kitchen island, his chest rumbling against my ear as he hummed along to the tinny waltz music.
"You're too gorgeous for your own good, Jess," Brock whispered, his lips grazing my temple.
"You're stepping on the silk," I countered, though my hand tightened on his shoulder.
Hunter appeared in my peripheral vision, a graceful blur as he caught my free hand and pulled me out of Brock's embrace.
He transitioned the movement into a fast, sweeping circle that sent the green silk flaring out around my ankles.
Hunter operated on pure athleticism; he moved with an easy fluidity that made the dance feel effortless.
He guided me back toward the center of the room, his dark eyes locked onto mine with a heat that made the room feel incredibly warm.
He leaned back, bracing his weight on his heels as he dropped his arm, sending my torso into a long, dramatic dip over the rug. My hair brushed the floorboards, the emerald dress stretching tight across my breasts as I looked up into his handsome face.
Right at the apex of the stretch, the tinny orchestral music cut out, replaced by a loud, aggressive marimba ringtone that shattered the moment.
Hunter checked his momentum, holding me steady in the dip for a fraction of a second before lifting me back onto my feet.
David lunged for his phone on the kitchen counter, his eyes widening as he stared at the screen.
An expression of pure, unadulterated excitement lit up his face, his thumbs working the buttons with a frantic speed.
"Oh my god. It's him. It's the guy from the gym.
The one with the arms." He looked at the four of us, his face flushing. "Nobody move. Do not ruin this for me."
He hurried out of the living room, his loafers clicking a fast pattern down the hallway before the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, leaving the four of us standing in the sudden quiet.
"That's how Hunter acts every time you call," Brock muttered, breaking the silence as his broad shoulders dropped into a relaxed slump.
The tension broke instantly, a wave of easy laughter rippling through the room.
Hunter didn’t bother denying it. The complete lack of shame on his face only made him more attractive as he turned his focus right back to me, ignoring the commentary from the peanut gallery entirely.
He caught my jaw in his hand, his thumb resting along my cheekbone, and pulled me into a sultry kiss that tasted faintly of the bourbon he consumed earlier.
The room receded into a blur of heat. By the time his lips left mine, a distinct dizziness claimed my equilibrium, my fingers clutching his forearms for balance.
"How could I not be totally caught up in someone like you?" Hunter murmured, his thumb trailing down to the edge of the emerald silk.
Brock tapped his shoulder with two fingers, a dry smirk on his face. "Down, boy. Your hot breath's gonna get on that silk before the wedding."
Hunter backed off a step, though he kept his arm looped loosely around my waist, his eyes glinting with a victory he assumed he already won. "Just a preview, fellas. I'm clearly the one going to that wedding anyway."
"Hold your horses, golden boy," the words cut through his confidence, my head clearing as I stepped out of his embrace. "I haven't decided yet."
The bedroom door clicked open, saving Hunter from a harsher reality check. David bounced back into the living room, his entire face practically glowing under the track lighting, his phone clutched to his chest like a holy relic.
"I need details immediately," my voice signaled the mandatory interrogation.
"He called!" David gushed, his eyes wide as he threw his hands into the air. "I ended up taking Hunter's advice about the text strategy, and it worked flawlessly. I officially have a date this coming weekend." He shot an appreciative look at Hunter. "The man is a romantic savant."
"See?" Hunter grinned, using the endorsement to bolster his position. "The data points toward the obvious choice. I am your best asset for this operation, Jess."
Across the room, Dane remained motionless against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes locked onto mine, creating a quiet, unspoken pocket of space amidst the noise.
The memory of his fourth-floor fortress hit me like a physical touch—the confession he made on that tobacco leather couch echoing in the silence of my mind.
He admitted to falling in love with me. I still felt the knot of guilt in my stomach for leaving that declaration hanging in the air without a response.
The two men continued to bicker lightheartedly, trading barbs over who would look best in a tuxedo, oblivious to the silent communication passing over their heads.
Dane checked the face of his watch, his posture flattening back into professional parameters.
"I'm calling it a night, people. Early meeting with the zoning board tomorrow.
" He turned his eyes back to me, the cool corporate veneer softening just a fraction.
"You made the perfect choice with the dress, Jess. You look beautiful."
The hallway carpet muffled our footsteps as the door swung behind us, cutting the apartment volume in half.
Dane turned in the narrow corridor, his hands reaching out to cup my waist over the cool emerald silk.
He leaned down, pressing a sweet, lingering goodnight kiss to my lips that tasted of clean mint and none of the urgency from his living room.
He pulled back, his fingers sliding off my hips as he turned toward the elevator.
"I didn't say it back," the words left my mouth before my internal censor could flag the transaction.
Dane stopped. His shoulders stiffened under his tailored jacket. He turned back slowly, a rapid sequence of micro-expressions sweeping across his features—vulnerability, a flash of defensive pride, a calculation of risk—before the familiar, unreadable fixer mask slid back into place.
"It's not what you think," the follow-up came quickly, my fingers bunching a fold of the silk gown.
"You can read minds now?" a faint, dry edge colored his tone.
A humorless laugh bubbled out of me. "Only when the moon's full."
The stupid joke achieved the desired outcome. The tension evaporated from his jaw, a genuine smile cracking the corners of his mouth as he closed the distance between us. His thumb reached out, stroking the line of my cheekbone with a gentle, localized pressure.
"I didn't tell you that because I wanted to hear it back," Dane murmured, his voice dropping into a quiet, steady cadence. "I said it because I wanted you to know. That's all."
His mouth found mine again, obliterating the polite boundary of the previous kiss.
This touch lacked the sweetness from before; it carried a tender, deeply passionate weight that pulled me forward into his chest. His fingers tangled into my hair, guiding my head back as his lips pressed me firmly against the painted drywall of the corridor.
The heat of his body blocked out the chill of the hallway.
The voices from inside my apartment filtered through the narrow gap of the front door, left ajar by an inch.
Brock and Hunter argued loudly over who controlled the playlist for the remainder of the evening, punctuated by Hunter's easy, booming laughter and Brock's lighthearted ribbing.
The domestic, chaotic soundtrack provided a bizarre contrast to Dane's searing touch, his tongue tracing my lower lip with a blazing intensity that made my knees feel loose.
We broke apart, our breath mingling in the small space between our faces. The green silk felt tight against my chest as my lungs settled. It felt necessary to deliver the truest asset assessment available.
"I have an answer for you," my eyes locked onto his blue gaze, holding the stare against the hallway light. "But I don't know if you'll like it."