He’d always thought she was a strikingly beautiful woman, but tonight, she was absolutely stunning in a scarlet-red gown—so appropriate to her name and bold personality—that showcased every seductive curve of her luscious body. The plunging neckline displayed a mouthwatering amount of cleavage, and the material of her dress clung to her firm breasts, the indentation of her waist, and the flare of her hips. He already knew that the back of her gown was cut low, exposing an expanse of smooth, silky-looking skin—and revealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. And then there was that thigh-high slit running up the front of the dress that gave him a glimpse of her toned, slender leg with every other step she took in those fuck-me heels.
And God, the woman had long, incredible legs. The kind that induced fantasies of having them wrapped high and tight around his waist as she arched against his driving thrusts and moaned his name when she came.
Fuck. He tightened his jaw as his dick stirred at the arousing thought, just as it always did when he imagined what it would be like to have Tempest pinned beneath him as he finally slaked three years of growing, burning lust in that sweet body of hers. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t given him enough seductive signals for him to know that she was just as interested, and her flirtatious behavior definitely made it difficult for him to keep resisting her.
But resist this gorgeous, enticing creature he would. For one thing, she was seven years younger than him—the epitome of a princess who undoubtedly saw the world through pretty, rose-colored glasses compared to Remy’s more jaded experiences and views. And more importantly, her brother had become a very good friend, and Remy owed Maddux for the overwhelming success of his construction company after his divorce had left him near destitute, not to mention his own psy
che damaged.
Out of respect for his friend, he wasn’t about to mess around with Maddux’s baby sister. And that’s all it ever could be—a no-strings hookup. Dating, let alone any kind of relationship, wasn’t on his radar after being duped, rejected, and royally fucked over by his ex-wife. Literally and figuratively.
All that said, it had been three years since he’d been with a woman. By conscious choice, because he’d chosen to spend all his time rebuilding his business and cultivating the high-profile clients Maddux had sent his way. And while he knew remaining celibate forever wasn’t a viable option, he wasn’t about to touch a woman who could potentially shatter him again. He already knew Tempest Wilder had the ability to get under his skin, to make him want things that weren’t meant to be his, and he was better off keeping things between them platonic.
But Jesus, that knowing, inviting smile of hers—the one currently curving her full, lush lips as she came closer—tempted the hot-blooded man inside of him that desired her.
“Hello, Remy,” she said in greeting when she finally reached him.
“Tempest,” he replied with a cordial nod.
She cocked her head playfully to the side, momentarily drawing his gaze to the way she’d swept her dark hair into an intricate style that was held together with crystal and pearl pins. The elegant updo left her shoulders and slender neck bare, emphasizing the pair of sparkling ruby earrings hanging from her lobes.
“Dare I say you look like you’re about to bolt for the exit,” she said, a light accusation in her tone.
He inhaled a deep breath—big mistake—because the scent of her soft, feminine perfume went straight to his dick. It took effort to remain outwardly unaffected, and for her, he allowed a smile to ease across his lips. “Guilty as charged.” He planned on doing exactly that as soon as she went on her way.
Her perfectly shaped brows furrowed in a concerned frown. “Are you not having a good time?”
“Don’t take this personally, but fairy tales are not my thing,” he replied, his tone wry.
“How do you know that for certain?” she countered, a flirtatious glimmer now sparking in her amber eyes. “If you leave right now, you’ll never know if something magical might happen tonight.”
He huffed out a laugh at her whimsical, romantic notion, though the sound that erupted from his throat was as rough as sandpaper. “I’m not looking for anything magical to happen.” In fact, he’d do his best to avoid anything even remotely close to it.
She shrugged a smooth, bare shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s better to leave all expectations and cynicism at the door and just see where the evening takes you.”
He shook his head in disagreement. “Trust me when I say my cynicism is well earned.” And now he was determined that all that skepticism would protect what little was left of his soul from being further ransacked. “I was happy to come and support the Wilder Way Foundation, and now that I’ve done that, I think it’s best if I go. Good night, Tempest.”
He started to walk away, but she grabbed at his tuxedo sleeve. “Remy, wait.”
Not wanting to be rude, he stopped and glanced back at her.
The smile she gave him was so sweet and persuasive it made something in his chest shift ever so slightly. “You can’t leave without having at least one dance.”
Oh, yes, he could, and he shored up his resolve against that imploring look of hers. “I don’t dance.”
The hand on his arm slid down, until her cool, slender fingers curled around his, not only startling him but ensnaring him in more ways than one. “It’s a ballad,” she pointed out of the song Raevynn Walsh was now singing. “Everyone can slow dance. It takes minimal skill . . . unless you don’t trust yourself to stand that close to me?”
Her comment was underscored with a subtle challenge, an undeniable dare that alluded to the attraction between them that was getting increasingly difficult for him to resist.
“Just one dance,” she persisted oh so sweetly, her husky voice taking on a teasing lilt as she leaned in closer. “I solemnly promise not to cast any kind of fairy-tale spell on you.”
Bold and determined Tempest Wilder didn’t give him another chance to turn her down. With her hand secured in his, she pulled him toward the dance floor in front of the stage, which was already filled with other couples, and he would have looked like a jackass if he rebuffed her at this point. Once she found a spot for the two of them, she turned back around and didn’t hesitate to step as close as their bodies would allow.
The provocative feel of her soft breasts pressing against his chest and her supple thighs skimming along his was like a fucking shock to his celibate system, and he automatically tensed in response to the sexy female curves aligning perfectly to his more masculine frame. It was all he could do to keep his dick from getting hard as a spike against her lower stomach.
Still holding his one hand, she smoothed her other one up the lapel of his jacket and around his neck. Clearly sensing his discomfort, she tipped her head back and gave him a flirty smile, no doubt meant to tease him.
“So, when it comes to slow dancing, the man usually puts his arm around the woman’s waist,” she suggested, since he hadn’t yet done so. “And if he really likes the woman he’s with, he’ll splay his hand low on her back and pull her in close.”