CHAPTER 29 #2
Stunning in an off-the-shoulder floor-length gown with a beautiful cascading ruffle skirt, Sylvia leaned into Jon, who clamped her to his side as if he were afraid she’d slip away.
Adam grinned. “It falls upon me to thank each one of you for making Sylvia and Jon’s wedding unforgettable. It’s not the venue or the accouterments but the people that make it—yes, Jonathan, you banned this word, but I will say it anyway—special.”
Jon’s mouth flattened, and he made as if to flip Adam the bird, but Sylvia grabbed his fist before he could.
“To those of you who traveled from other states and countries,” Adam continued, “a very heartfelt thank you for making the effort. To those of you who came for the food and drink, what can I say? You have impeccable taste.
“Two things are about to happen. One is undoubtedly something you’ve seen before. The other, well, let’s just say a lot of practice and embarrassment was involved.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please gather around for the garter toss.”
Murmurs and chatter erupted in the audience. Claire observed the heat in Adam’s eyes as he bent down to listen to something his wife said, then dipped lower to take her lips in a kiss so hot, it sent a surge of electric current between Claire’s thighs.
How would it feel to love and be loved like that?
Was happily ever after even possible?
She shifted, her arm bumping against Ian’s, and looked up to catch him staring down at her with mischief glinting in his deep blue eyes.
He bent to whisper directly in her ear. “I’m hotter.”
A bubble of laughter escaped Claire’s lips, and Ian grinned hugely, giving her a wink. “Gotta go.”
The single men had started gathering along the far wall, facing Sylvia. Now seated in a chair on the red carpet, her skirt draping gracefully and covering her shoes, she radiated happiness.
The twang of the opening strains of “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate began blaring from the speakers.
All eight groomsmen strolled out, with Ian in the middle.
Claire watched, her heart doing crazy things in her chest as they slowly and deliberately removed and tossed their jackets in unison, leaving them in white pleated studded shirts and bow ties, contrasting sharply with their fitted black trousers.
They formed a half-circle around Jonathan, pausing for dramatic effect, and Claire watched in fascination as they began to dance.
Sylvia clapped and threw her head back in delighted laughter as they gyrated, pivoted, and stepped in perfect synchrony to one tune after another while Jonathan stood supervising, nodding with his arms folded and a supremely smug look on his face.
A long pause. Appreciative murmurs from the crowd.
Then, “Bad to the Bone” by George Thorogood and The Destroyers began to play, and all eight groomsmen gyrated slowly, their hips moving in slow motion.
And Ian … oh, Ian, placed in the middle of the group because he was the tallest …
And the sexiest.
God, but the man could dance. It didn’t matter that seven other men were making identical moves; Claire only had eyes for him.
He smiled and made eye contact with the audience, but his gaze repeatedly returned to Claire as he thrust his pelvis in ways that were intimately familiar to her, setting her every nerve aflame.
By the time all eight men froze in place at the end, Claire’s arms were oddly numb, and she was panting to the point of hyperventilation.
Jonathan took center stage to strut toward his bride, a cocky smirk on his handsome face. Sylvia leaned forward, licking her lips in rapt anticipation, and Claire watched, mesmerized, as her formerly unattached and promiscuous friend drank her husband in with an expression of pure love.
As Thorogood proclaimed in that gravelly stutter that he was bad, Jon dropped in front of his bride, effortlessly executing several push-ups before smoothly switching to one-armed ones, to the delight of the clapping crowd.
Slowly, he inched the rest of the way until he was at her feet, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
Then he lifted the hem, diving under it in such a way that Claire’s entire body began to thrum.
His head burrowing under her skirt, his hands visibly roaming over her thighs under the fabric, Jon stayed for an inordinately long time as Sylvia squirmed.
At last, he emerged with a lacy blue garter between his teeth. The crowd cheered and applauded. Jon raked a hand through his tousled brown hair. Casting a sly look over his shoulder, he took the garter and flung it backward, sending it sailing high toward the group of vying single men.
And as the blue scrap of lace descended, Claire’s heart began to hammer in her chest.
Because its trajectory was clear.
Everything began to happen in slow motion.
Her lips parted.
Ian’s eyes homed in on the garter.
And then, with a soft gasp, Claire watched him casually raise his arm to deftly snap it out of the air, left-handed.
·
“We could have flown to Provo by now.” Ian shook his head in evident frustration as they stepped through the garage elevator access door.
“What’s in Provo?”
“Snow. I kind of miss it.”
A three-car collision on Las Vegas Boulevard had slowed traffic to a crawl. In the confines of the limo, Ian’s hands and mouth had been all over her, and hers, all over him. Claire had barely stopped herself from taking him out and straddling him right there on the leather bench.
By the time they reached the Lark, there was zero chance that Ian could exit the limo and walk through the front door; he had directed the driver to use the underground entrance.
As the blue elevator ascended, Claire’s gaze raked over him, taking in his tousled hair, puffy lips, and the dangling bow tie around his open collar. He had a five o’clock shadow too. And that tux …
He took the key card out of his wallet. “Keep looking at me like that, and the security guys will get an impromptu midnight show.”
She couldn’t help a self-satisfied smile, remembering when she’d spotted the telltale gold packet in his open wallet. Since day one, she’d had that effect on him, and it thrilled her to be the one who found and pushed his buttons to that degree.
Speaking of buttons … she stepped a little closer and traced her fingertip over one shiny onyx square. “I like these studs,” she said.
The elevator doors parted.
He made a low sound in his throat. “I’ll show you stud.”
He slipped the key card between his teeth. The next second, he swept her up into his arms.
Claire gasped with a startled laugh. “What are you doing?”
“Saving time.” He carried her swiftly down the hallway.
“You’re always picking me up.”
“Is that a complaint?”
Grinning, Claire shook her head, roped her hands around his neck, and inhaled deeply of his scent. No cologne, as usual, but a hint of soap and a whole lot of him.
He passed her the key card. The lock ground open and flashed green, and Ian swept inside, shouldering the door closed. Still carrying her, he bent his head and took her lips in a searing kiss, and the scorching déjà vu rendered her lightheaded.
Because the Ian who held her was the Ian from that first night.
His lips never left hers; he strode straight across the suite, not stopping until he reached the bank of windows, where he set her on her feet.
The Sin City lights shimmered below in riotous colors under the starry sky, and Claire was pulled into Ian’s erotic spell again, her entire being thrumming with want.
She slipped her arms around his waist, fitting her body to his and lifting her face as he bent his head to take her lips with a hot urgency that sent fire blazing through her veins.
“Turn around.”
She did. He took her hands, raising them over her head and pressing them flat against the glass. “Remember this, Penny?”
How could she forget? Her knees threatened to buckle. “Yes.”
He leaned in close. His knuckles trailed down her arms, barely touching, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.
“I’ve been replaying it over and over in my head.” His hands came to rest on her shoulders. “I couldn’t even look this way without envisioning you here.”
Her breath was hitching. She arched her back, pressing herself into him.
He rolled his hips. The hard press of him against her pushed her arousal to dizzying heights.
He reached around to caress her breasts, kneading gently, stroking her nipples until she felt the tugs start deep inside.
He kissed her neck. So many times she’d fantasized about his hands on her, but no fantasy ever came close to the real thing.
Claire closed her eyes, thinking she couldn’t take much more of this, but at the same time, she never wanted it to end.
His hand smoothed along her neck and jaw, and then she felt his index finger tracing her mouth. He tapped gently, and she parted her lips, catching his fingertip between her teeth, the tip of her tongue circling the pad.
He slid his finger deeper.
“Suck.”
Fire erupted deep inside her at his seductively spoken command. She hollowed her cheeks and quickly drew him all the way in, her tongue rolling back and forth, her teeth grazing the base.
He groaned. “If this is a preview, I can’t wait for the main feature.”
She gave him a nip, released him with a pop, and turned to face him. “I want to undress you.”
He held his arms out. “I’m all yours.” His eyes were twin blue flames.
How readily he let her take control. He knew just how much to give and what to take, and the result was always mind-blowingly electrifying.
Her fingertips shook as she unbuttoned his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it and tossed it to the nearby leather bench.