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ever made. Being that close to her, laughing and talking with her, had crashed into him like a freight train.
    He scanned the full reception hall, locating her talking with the other bridesmaids. They were laughing about something, Olivia’s head thrown back and a vibrant smile on her face. Strands of her light brown hair had come loose from where they had been pinned up. And it didn’t matter that she was engulfed in a gigantic dress threatening to swallow her whole; she was the most beautiful person in the room. She took his breath away, and that she could do it while looking like a huge tangerine was a testament to how much he cared for her.
    When he first had the idea to go to these weddings with her, he didn’t think much about his potential reaction to it all. Now, he worried he was going to fall in as deep as he had been all those years before. He honestly didn’t know what he thought he’d accomplish with this whole thing. He didn’t want to listen to the little voice in the back of his head that said he did it because he was secretly hoping Liv would come to her senses and fall into his arms. Or his bed. Though, to be honest, if he was aiming high, he’d like both .
    After getting her favorite drink from the bar and a beer for himself, he headed in her direction, knowing that she’d need a little liquid courage for what was coming next. As long as he’d known her, she’d hated dancing, though he couldn’t understand why. She had a natural grace that made her movements on the dance floor hypnotizing and mesmerizing. More than once, especially during college, he’d been ensnared in the sight of her smooth, gyrating body.
    But every single one of those instances had one thing in common: a very happy Livvy. The kind of happy only alcohol could get you.
    He got to her just as the deejay made an announcement for the wedding party dance. A dejected pout marred her face, but her mouth lifted in the corners as he handed her the martini.
    “You, sir, are my favorite person.”
    He smiled, chuckling softly. “Sure. You’d probably say that if Maurine’s uncle Frank gave you one of those.”
    Her eyes grew wide with seriousness. “I would not,” she said adamantly with a shake of her head. “Do you know that pervert tried to cop a feel already? I never thought I’d see the day that I was actually thankful for thirty pounds of tulle surrounding my ass.”
    He laughed and watched, amused, as she downed almost the entirety of her drink before setting it on the nearest table. Holding her hand out to him, she raised an eyebrow in silent invitation.
    Like he would say no.
    Taking a swig of his beer, he set his drink down next to hers, then reached for her hand. The smooth, mellow beats of the music had already started, and the dance floor was filled with the wedding party and their respective dates swaying slowly.
    Once they stepped on the floor, Ian tugged her to him, pressing against the small of her back and guiding her body close to his while his other hand loosely held hers. She fit against him perfectly, the top of her head coming to just above his chin thanks to the heels she was wearing. The material between them didn’t allow them to be as close as he’d like, though he figured that was probably a good thing. If he had her exquisite body pressed against his, from her toned thighs to her perfect breasts, he’d be hard as a rock and wouldn’t be able to hide it from her.
    “This is nice,” she said as she absentmindedly played with the hair at the back of his neck. “I usually hide out in the bathroom for this part of the night so I’m not that loser they have to find a dancing partner for.”
    Ian gave her hand a light squeeze. “I doubt it would be hard to find someone to dance with you, Liv. You’re gorgeous.”
    He froze, his steps faltering slightly. Those three beers he’d had in the past hour must’ve kicked in, because he hadn’t exactly meant to let that slip.
    Averting his focus, he