Page 75 of Gym With Benefits

"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."