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Hendrix

“ M ost embarrassing moment—don’t think. Just answer. GO!”

Raven’s brown eyes widen adorably, and her pretty chin juts forward. “What? No way, you first.”

The DJ is playing a One Direction song at top volume, and my bow tie is undone. I’m holding an Abita Amber and leaning against a high-top table covered with a white tablecloth.

A small vase is in the center filled with white twinkle lights and an enormous white flower, and Raven is beside me with a clear cup of fireball and cherry liqueur in her hand.

It’s some “spicy cherry” brew Dylan asked the bartender to mix up for her bridesmaids. I’m sticking to beer, because the last thing I want tonight is whiskey dick.

We’ve been going back and forth since we were paired up in the foyer of Miss Gina Rosario’s massive, Italian-style mansion overlooking the bay.

I took one look at the gorgeous woman I’d be escorting down the aisle, and all I could think was I had to break the tension somehow. Raven was just too fine to slip away tonight .

My brothers give me shit for being a player, but the truth is, I’m really a nice guy. So while I’m dreaming of seeing this woman naked, I’m doing my best to charm her with my “most embarrassing moment.”

“Phew, it was probably when our biggest defensive lineman caught me crying over a Taylor Swift song in the locker room.”

Raven’s hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes water. “Oh my god…”

Got her . “Did you almost do a spit-take?”

She nods quickly, grabbing the napkin from under my beer to blot her nose.

Dylan’s wedding went off without a hitch, and as the older guests have slowly departed the reception, the vibe has gotten a little wilder. Or as wild as we can get at Miss Gina’s posh estate.

Miss Gina is a rich old blind lady who kind of became our surrogate grandmother after our parents died. My little sister has been obsessed with her since she was old enough to ride her bike up the scenic highway from our house.

The two of them have been thick as thieves since that first box of Girl Scout cookies, and naturally, Dylan had to have her wedding here.

Legends swirl around the old lady and her family. Some people say she descended from pirates who buried treasure on the grounds of this sprawling property. Some say she’s a lost, Italian princess.

We’ve only ever known her as a kind old lady who dispenses wisdom and kittens, and who played match-maker for Zane and his fiancée Rachel, Miss Gina’s young nurse from Birmingham.

Now, in Miss Gina’s overplanted garden we’re surrounded by fruit trees, tropical plants, and wrought iron trellises all decorated in white twinkle lights.

An arch with magenta flowers growing over it in a vine is situated on a wooden platform with an ornate iron bench. It provides a photo-ready backdrop as the sun disappears into the water .

The flagstone patio is a makeshift dance floor, and my brothers and all of Dylan’s bridesmaids are dancing and singing.

“Now that’s an embarrassing confession.” Raven points at me.

My eyes narrow. “Are you making fun of me, Rave?”

“Absolutely.” Her laugh is a low, sexy sound with a little rasp that makes my dick twitch.

“Your turn.” I take a step closer, and pink flashes from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

It’s really cute, and I’ve been counting how many times I can make it happen all night. It’s like a little signal she’s as interested in me as I am in her, and it fans the heat smoldering in my stomach.

I’ve also been doing my best to keep my eyes from lingering on her perfect breasts pressing against the top of her sheer pink dress like two luscious pillows every time she inhales.

“I need a judge’s ruling. Which song?” Her eyes dance as she takes the cherry from her drink and slips it between her teeth.

My breath stills, and for a moment, I’m lost watching her full lips wrap around that bright red fruit. “Ah… the one about the guy who calls to break her like a promise—doesn’t everybody cry at that part?”

“Like in that Ryan Gosling movie?”

“Which one?”

“ The Fall Guy .”

“Never saw it.”

She shakes her head disapprovingly. “I can’t believe you live in LA, and you don’t know movies.”

“I know football.” I give her a wink, and she reaches for another cherry.

“I’m not even going to ask what you were doing listening to Taylor Swift in the locker room.” She’s so sassy, it’s terrific.

“It’s Dylan’s fault. She plays her music all the time.”

As if on cue, “Love Story” by Taylor Swift begins, and Rachel and Liv and Allie and just about every female at the reception race to clump together in a circle, singing every single word at the top of their lungs.

“See what I mean?” I nod in their direction. “You can join them if you want. I won’t judge.”

She arches an eyebrow as if it’s a dare. “ You can join them if you want. I won’t judge.”

I bite back my grin, studying the golden flecks in her brown eyes. She’s bewitching with that dimpled grin, with her dark hair hanging in smooth waves down her back.

I have to thank my little sister for choosing an off-the-shoulder style with a slit up the leg for their dresses. It’s floor-length, but it gives me the most tantalizing view of Raven’s gorgeous body. I want to lift, squeeze, and bite every inch of her.

I’m dying to hear what she sounds like when I make her come.

“I’d rather stay here with you.” I dip my chin, giving her my best smolder.

“High praise, coming from a true fan.”

“I’ll show you a true fan.” I catch her around the waist, and she laughs, loud and hearty.

She really slays me with that laugh. The dimple in her cheek deepens as she merrily blinks up at me. “Hendrix Bradford, are you trying to get in my pants?”

“Yes. Is it working?”

Her lips twist, and she tries to fight her smile. “Maybe.”

Damn, I want to kiss her, which catches me off-guard.

I confess to being a “lust at first sight” type of guy, but this is something different. This kind of lust feels dangerous. I need to bring it down a bit.

I shrug my coat off my shoulders, putting it on the back of a nearby chair. “So you’re not a fan of the most popular singer of our generation?”

“Of course, I like Taylor Swift. I’m not sure I believe you like her.”

“She’s very talented. I even like the songs she writes for other artists. ”

“Such as…”

“‘Better Man’ by Little Big Town?”

“That’s a good one.”

“Sometimes in the middle of the night?”

“I can feel you again.”

“Come on, that’s just good shit.”

“Okay, I believe you.” She holds up her empty glass. “And I like a man who can praise a woman so easily. It shows you’re very confident.”

“You have no idea.” Catching her hand in mine, I lead her in the direction of the bar for a refill. “What kind of music do you like?”

The song ends, and a peppy, cheerleader-type dance song begins, causing all the girls to jump up and down again.

“Chappell Roan!” Raven cries, lifting her arms and doing a little twisty move that makes my mouth water.

Dylan’s best friend and former ballet partner Craig is on the improvised dance floor with my brother Garrett doing some YMCA-style spelling choreography.

Craig’s boyfriend Clint was Dylan’s wedding planner and florist, but I’m pretty sure Craig picked out all the music for the reception—with my sister’s help, of course.

I’m not much of a dancer, but I don’t mind faking it if it means I can wrap my arms around Raven. Watching her move, I think she might be the perfect woman.

If there were such a thing.

The bartender hands me two fresh drinks, and I pass one to her.

“Thank you.” She smiles, lifting her chin as she takes a sip.

We return to the tall table where we place our drinks. “So Chappell Roan…”

“Charli xcx, all the Broadway show tunes…” Her full bottom lip goes between her teeth. “Believe it or not, I used to be a pageant girl.”

“No shit?— ”

“I know, I don’t look it.” She blinks away, and this time the flush on her cheeks isn’t like before. It’s like she’s really embarrassed.

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say it explains your poise and how you project confidence.”

“I’m a terrific actress.” Her voice is quieter.

I slide a lock of brown hair off her creamy shoulder. “I bet the camera loves you.”

All of my brothers are on the dance floor now, jumping up and down to some Beastie Boys song. Craig yells for me to join them, but I wave him away. Usually, I’m right there with them having fun, acting crazy, but not tonight.

Tonight, I’ve found something way better.

She sways closer, the warmth of her body noticeable through the cotton of my shirt, and I can’t resist. “Tell me, Raven Gale, do you have a boyfriend back in Atlanta missing you this weekend?”

“Nope.” She pops the P , and my eyebrow arches.

“Something I should know?”

Her eyes roll, and a cute little growl rumbles in her throat. “The only person back home is Lawrence Calder O’Halloran.”

“I already don’t like him. What’s his story?”

“He’s the son of my dad’s business partner.” She slides another cherry between her teeth. “He’s also an entitled asshole who likes to keep me informed of the availability of weight-loss drugs—for my health, of course.”

“Hang on.” Shaking my head, I process what she just said. “He actually said you need to take weight-loss drugs?”

“Oh, no. He would never be so crass. He simply implies I’m a big girl, and don’t I think I should be smaller?”

Stepping directly in front of her, I put both hands on each side of the table, effectively caging her in my arms. “Look at me, Raven Gale.” She lifts her chin, and her breasts rise and fall as she breathes. “Your body is fucking gorgeous. There are women who would pay good money to have your curves, and I would give my left nut for one night to devour every… single… inch of you. ”

I lean closer with each word, and her thick lashes flutter. That cute flush creeps up her neck again, and it makes me grin.

“What about you?” It’s a breathy question, and her pink tongue wets her bottom lip. “Is there some girl in LA waiting for you?”

“No.” My eyes flicker down hungrily. “I don’t date.”

Stepping back, it’s important I lay the ground rules for her as well as for me. Even if she’s in Atlanta and I’m in LA, and there’s no way this could be anything more than a post-wedding hookup. Raven Gale is a bit too tempting.

Her brow furrows. “But I’ve seen pictures of you out with women?—”

“Don’t get me wrong, I have dates for special events or awards banquets, stuff like that, but I never date the same woman more than twice.”

“So you’re a player.”

“Not at all. I actually respect women very much. I had an amazing mom, and I have a cool little sister.” Nodding, I put it out there. “I would never want them to be with a guy who loves football as much as I do. I’ve heard of golf widows and hunting widows—I don’t want any kind of widow. It’s not right.”

“What if you met the love of your life, and you didn’t go on a third date with her?”

“I’ve met the love of my life. It’s small and pointy on each end, and I hold it in my arms so tightly. Some people call it a pigskin.”

That makes her laugh. “I understand being obsessed with your work, but you’re saying you’ve never met a woman you wanted to date more than twice? Not ever ?”

“Once.”

“Ahh, here we go.” She’s so smug, but I have nothing to hide.

“Back when I first moved to LA, I dated a woman for a little more than a month, and it was a disaster.”

Her brows lift in disbelief. “A disaster how?”

“I told her right from the start, football is the most important thing in my life.” I tilt my beer to the side, shaking my head. “She didn’t believe me, and from there, it was nonstop drama. I almost never got rid of her.”

To my surprise, Raven nods. “She wasn’t the one.”

“I’ve never made that mistake again. I love football. I’m not like my brothers. I have goals, and living up to my dad’s legacy is the most important thing to me.”

“I get that. My career is the most important thing in my life right now—not my dad calling me a weather girl or Lawrence Calder O’Halloran telling me women don’t chase storms.”

Placing my hand on her waist, I pull her closer. “Want to get out of here and get wild?”

She places her hand on the front of my shirt, curling her fingers in the fabric. “What did you have in mind?”

Leaning closer, my lips brush the shell of her ear, and I inhale the floral scent of her perfume. “I have a room at the Bayside hotel. We could go there and get to know each other better.”

Naked . We could get to know each other naked.

I don’t say that part out loud.

I watch her throat as she swallows. She hesitates, thinking, and I’m on the edge of a cliff, hoping she’s as curious and as turned on as I am.

Her eyes go to the dance floor, where Dylan is hanging on her new husband, moving side to side to a Justin Bieber song.

“I don’t think Dylan will miss me.” A hint of excitement is in her tone, and my dick responds.

I have a good feeling about this.

“She’s one foot into her honeymoon.”

A soft hand slides into mine, and that dimple appears on her cheek. “I’m game—let’s do it.”