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Prologue (Walker)
I couldn’t keep my eyes off her as she moved across the dance floor. Her auburn hair flowing out behind her as an eruption of laughter filled the air around her. I’d never seen her before, she wasn’t a close friend of Jacksons or Hailey’s, but I wanted to know her. The strong whisky my brother had shipped in for the event coursed through my veins.
My desire leaped forward when she caught my eye—the smile on her lips invited me in for a closer look. I wanted to feel her wrapped in my arms, the desire overwhelming. It had been so long since I’d felt the touch of a woman. Knowing the alcohol clouded my judgment, I’d switched to wine hours before. Yet every sway of her hips brought back that intoxicating feeling of desire.
She caught my eye yet again, but this time I wasn’t going to let her slip away with just a playfully flirtatious grin. I made my way across the dance floor. The smile slipped from her lips when she saw the need in my eyes. Before long, her body was pressed against mine as the music slowed to an old country song. The reception was starting to die down, but I didn’t want to let her go.
I whispered in her ear as the music ebbed to silence. Guests gave my brother a final well-wish as they filtered out. Her fingers trailed up my back, the tight button-down not giving her nearly as much freedom to explore my body as I wanted. There was something special about her, the way she smelled like wildflowers and sweet honeysuckle.
Every curve of her body pleaded with me to be touched. The soft curves of her form barely contained by the silk of her dress. There was no way that the night could end without me knowing more about her. She was younger than me, a friend of Hailey’s, it would seem. Yet I didn’t know her name, and I was too scared to break the trance and ask her.
“There’s no more music,” she whispered in my arms.
“Does there need to be?” I asked. “Come home with me, I have an old jukebox we can play all the country classics on.”
She laughed, the sound filling my heart. “You do seem like the southern gentlemen type.”
The woman tilted her head up to look at me, her lower lip moving between her teeth as desire washed over me. Her soft gaze locked onto mine as I tilted my head down, capturing her lips in the way I’d wanted to all night. She leaned closer, no space now between us for the old catholic nuns watching us as they cleaned the monastery grounds.
“We are going to get kicked out if you keep that up,” I told her.
She grinned, “I haven’t done anything. I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I see the way you're looking at me. Let me tell you, woman, I want to take you back to my place and taste that bottom lip of yours. It seems to always be in your mouth.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I can't help it. When you look at me like that, it just stirs something inside of me.”
“Then you’ve gotta be a mess by now because I’ve been looking at you all night: me and every other man at this wedding. Come home with me,” I asked again.
She looked down, her eyes watching as I ran my fingers along her arm. She shuddered with desire, her eyes closing as a low moan slipped from between the same lips that had drawn me in. I couldn’t wait any longer to taste her; grabbing her chin, I tilted her head up to me as she batted her eyes. That wave of desire again claimed me as I covered her sweet mouth with mine.
A moan slipped out, from her or me, I couldn’t be sure. She shuddered in my arms. I almost picked her up and carried her to my truck. Fighting the urge, I broke away from her and let her arms slip away from me, taking her hand as we slowly walked out to the parking lot. She hesitated when I opened the door to my truck, the frenzy of passion now abating as the cool night air settled in.
“I don’t know about this,” she whispered. “This isn't something I’d normally do.”
“Me neither,” I agreed. “But I don’t want it to stop. Even if we just have tonight, I really don’t want to go home without you.”
Her