Flame (Fire on the Mountain #2) by Erin Noelle Read Free Book Online

fucking forever. Levi and I never say a word to each other throughout the entire disorganized process, but my body is in tune with where he is at every moment. The magnetic pull I feel toward him is fucking bizarre, and I can’t decide if I like it or not.
    “Okay, folks, that’s a wrap,” the bitch of a coordinator announces to everyone as workers rush into the room and begin tearing down the platform we’d been standing on. “Go ahead and join everyone else out in the lobby and grab a drink. It’ll take the hotel about thirty minutes to get this portion of the ballroom set up to match the rest for the reception.” She motions her hand to the temporary wall currently being removed to open up the full space. “We’ll announce when we open the doors. At that time, I need the wedding party to meet me at the fountain so we can introduce you all as you walk in.”
    Everyone makes a beeline for the exit as soon as she stops talking, I’m guessing most of them more than eager to take her up on the “grab a drink” part of her speech. I know I’m parched as hell and could definitely use something wet and alcoholic. I somehow get sandwiched between Emilia and her mom as we shuffle out into the awaiting guests, where I’m then swallowed up by people trying to get to the bride and groom. Levi is somewhere behind me, and although I’m tempted to wait for him and actually have a normal conversation, my tongue is starting to swell from dehydration, and that weird gooey build-up is starting to form on the inside of my lipstick line. I need a drink. Stat.
    Slipping through the crowd, I luck out and find a bar in a dimly lit corner with no wait. I don’t have any money to tip the guy, seeing as though I was just standing in a wedding and my purse is upstairs in the hotel room I’m sharing with Meghan. I hope he recognizes and understands what the dress means as I make a mental note to escape and grab a twenty a little later.
    “Good evening, madam. What can I get for you to drink? Wine, champagne, or perhaps something stronger?” The bartender greets me with a charming smile, his wandering gaze dropping down to my cleavage before returning to mine.
    “The lady will have a glass of your finest Scotch whisky; Macallan’s if you have it. Two ice cubes. A water for me.” Before I get a chance to respond, a familiar, deep male voice answers for me, seconds before the heat from him penetrates my dress. He’s right behind me, not quite touching, but if I rocked back on my heels, we’d be pressed tight.
    The bartender glances up at him over my shoulder, then back down at me, cocking his head to ask my approval. I roll my eyes at the ego of the one behind me, but the bartender only chuckles and pours me the glass, knowing I’m going to accept it. Pretentious asshole!
    “You don’t strike me as a girl who fucks around with that frou-frou shit,” he rasps against the back of my neck, blanketing the exposed skin in goose bumps. He snickers at my physical reaction to his closeness, and I hate my traitorous body for a minute. Stupid nervous system .
    I inhale a deep breath, which is supposed to clear my head before I speak, but instead, it’s saturated with him . And God, him smells spectacular. The perfect mixture of new rain and leather. Clean, yet rugged. Soft, but rough. All fucking man.
    Shit, I’m in trouble.
    “Thanks for buying me a drink at an open bar. I love a guy who goes the extra mile, sparing no expense,” I test him, curious to how this conversation is going to go.
    Closing the small gap between us, he inches forward until the vibration of his low laughter resonates inside my ribcage. I grab on to the bar top, steadying my wobbly legs. The sexual portion of my brain fires into high gear as my near future, without clothes and filled with a best man, seems inevitable.
    “Still got the attitude, Sunshine,” he growls, his lips faintly brushing against the shell of my ear with each word. Wrapping his arm