From the moment I arrived at the wedding, I knew I was in trouble.

There was nothing wrong with the wedding itself—it was your standard venue, a modest but pretty church, dappled in natural light, with a small stage at the front perfect for exchanging vows with the love of your life. I imagined it was the kind of place that most people would love to get hitched. People who weren’t me, at least.

But as I walked in through the double doors, fifteen minutes before the wedding was set to begin, my eyes focused on a sign at the back of the pews. Two words, written in beautiful calligraphy, bold white chalk on a stark black background: Open Seating.

That was a very, very bad thing.

Modern wedding ceremonies often had open seating, and in reality, I knew it was probably for the better. Nobody had to pick a “bride” or “groom” side to sit on.

But my hand clenched a little tighter around the paper program I’d picked up at the church door. For me, open seating was a fucking minefield. The room was strewn with potential awkward conversations, stilted interactions, and people I’d be better off not talking to again.

It wasn’t entirely my fault. I was thirty-two and had lived in Rose Falls for almost my entire life. It was a small college town, and of course, I’d racked up my fair share of friends, neighbors, and acquaintances. But thirty-two years in one place—when you’re me—means that walking into any large gathering will involve leaping through an obstacle course of past hookups, flings, and sexual encounters.

People were milling around and finding their seats in the church. And from where I stood at the back, I could already see at least two people who I desperately needed to avoid.

* * *

There was David, the blonde guy currently standing to the right side of the room, talking with his wife and two people I didn’t know. He and I had gone to grade school together—he was a typical silver-spoon kid, wealthy and without a care in the world. One day, the summer after eighth grade, David had kissed me in a parking lot before running away, acting shocked, like I’d been the one to instigate it. He’d proceeded to bully me throughout all of high school, and then met and married his wife in no time flat after graduation. I had no idea if he remembered kissing me, but I didn’t exactly want to find out.

Another potential awkward encounter was sitting in the dark wooden pews, three rows back—a redhead, short, stocky, and sitting with his family. I couldn’t recall his name for the life of me, but I sure did remember what he sounded like when he came. I’d had fun with him one night after meeting him at a bar, but then he’d wanted to cuddle and spend the night, and that just wasn’t something I did with one-night stands.

And then of course, there was the person that I had been with but couldn’t currently see—the bride. Jenna hadn’t just been a one-time hookup. We had actually dated, or at least tried to date, before I inevitably told her I couldn’t commit. She had wanted kids, and marriage, the whole nine yards. But we were twenty-six years old at the time, and I couldn’t possibly imagine doing those things. Hell, I still couldn’t now at age thirty-two. My relationship with Jenna had lasted a few months; she had been wonderful, and we were still fairly good friends. She’d met her husband-to-be, Nathaniel, during an internship in New York City.

I was glad she was happy.

I really was.

I just wished I didn’t have to come to a damn wedding because of it.

After sucking in a deep lungful of air, I headed down the center aisle, fixing my eyes on the floral arrangements, the lights, the tall glass windows—anything but the other people in the room.

There were two rules I had now for weddings. The first was that I would get in, make my appearance, and then get out, as quickly as was socially acceptable. The first rule really was a precaution put in place so that I’d never have to worry about the second rule: I was not, in any way, allowed to have sex with any of the wedding guests. I’d been to so many weddings in the past ten years, and one thing I knew for sure was that nothing good could come of a wedding guest hookup. People had cried on me after wedding hookups, puked on me, and one person had even said they could see themselves falling in love with me, after I’d only known them for two hours.

The problem was that at weddings, people had love on the brain. Trying to have a one-night stand with someone who actually craved true love was a recipe for disaster. My friends would tell me that this was actually a good thing, and according to them, I should have been looking for love, too. Their questions were always the same: “Emmett, when are you going to find someone? When will you settle down?”

I’d smile and shrug, and never actually say the definitive answer: Probably never.

I liked people, and I definitely loved having sex with people, but relationships and commitment were too much. It was a Russian roulette game of bad outcomes: people cheated on each other, lied, got jealous, got nasty. Relationships were messy. Even when I did find people I truly connected with, one of us always ended up ending things. One guy I’d dated had convinced me I was his one and only for four entire months before I found out he was secretly married.

It was all bullshit. And it only ever led to getting hurt. Casual sex was easier, no matter how lonely I got sometimes.

I’d done a fairly good job convincing my closest friends and family that I had slowed down my carefree lifestyle. They knew I didn’t party as much as I used to, and that I no longer kept insane hours and smoked and drank more than any human should. Hell, I didn’t even drink caffeine most days now, let alone any naughtier vices.

The people in my life didn’t know that I still indulged in my fair share of hookups. I wouldn’t say I kept my lifestyle a secret, but I certainly didn’t broadcast my sex life to the world like I used to.

But touch was like a drug to me. I needed it like oxygen, and I could never get enough. And I was good at sex. I was good at flirting. It felt thrilling to use the skills I had because there wasn’t much else that I was good at.

Now, I used the tools of the future: dating apps and websites, instead of meeting people at parties and bars. It was calmer. Easier. Less conspicuous. People knew what they were getting from me because it was right on my online profile: No strings attached. Safe and consensual sex only, all genders welcome. Not looking for relationships.

Everything was better that way.

* * *

I sat down in the third-to-last row of pews, the cool wood pressing against my spine and instantly making me sit up straighter than I normally would. It was a good spot to be. I could view most of the room in front of me, but I wasn’t in the last row, looking conspicuously alone. I kept my eyes focused down on the bright light of my cell phone as the room slowly filled up.

When the light organ music began to play, I finally lifted my eyes. The space was gorgeous, I had to admit—high vaulted ceilings and natural light of a photographer’s dreams. I’d never been to a wedding so late in the year before; it was the end of November, and a dusting of snow had coated the ground earlier that week.

The church actually felt cozy. I blushed a little just from thinking it—this wasn’t an environment that typically made me feel anything close to comfortable. But I was safe from the chill outside, and I couldn’t help but take small pleasure in the warmth.

A flash of movement appeared in the corner of my vision, right before the church doors shut. I glanced over my shoulder. A man had run in right at the last minute and was breathing heavily, eyes darting around the now mostly full pews. He smoothed his hands over his suit, checking it as if he somehow expected it to be dirty, before starting down the center aisle.

Who was this guy? I’d never seen him before. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and as he stepped forward his eyes locked on mine.

He smiled wide.

Shit, did I know him from somewhere? I quickly looked away, burying a hand in my hair, hoping to God he hadn’t been someone I’d slept with one night and forgotten completely.

A few moments later the wood beneath me creaked and shifted a little. Of course. He’d sat down right next to me. Apparently my do not approach body language wasn’t enough. I slowly lifted my head back up, dropping my hand from my hair, and stared straight ahead, watching the woman playing the organ at the front of the room.

“Hi,” the man said, his voice clear and cordial, as if he’d just sat down to a business lunch with me.

I tilted my head slightly in his direction, nodding once, only half-attempting to make eye contact.

“Wow. Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said. “Sure wish this was the kind of church my mom took us to growing up. Hell, all we had was a little multi-purpose community center that they used as a church on Sundays. I don’t think there was a single window in the place.”

I nodded, pausing for a moment. “It’s a nice room,” I said. I checked the time on my phone. Wasn’t the ceremony supposed to start soon?

“I’m Ryan, by the way,” his voice came again, floating through the air. His arm jutted out into my field of vision.

I turned to him, meeting his eyes as I reached out to shake his hand.

The man—Ryan—was smiling softly, his eyes crinkling up around the corners. He looked good up close. Very good, actually. He was bigger than I would have guessed from his voice; tall, fit, and filling out his slate-grey suit like it was made for him.

Shit, maybe it was made for him. It looked expensive as hell, as did his leather shoes. He couldn’t have been from around here. However warm I had been after coming inside out of the cold, it seemed to double all at once. I hoped I wasn’t visibly blushing.

“I’m Emmett,” I finally said, realizing I’d been awkwardly staring. Hi, I’m Emmett, and I was too busy sizing you up to even properly introduce myself.

If he’d noticed my embarrassment, he didn’t seem to care, though. He turned, taking in the room like I’d been doing moments before, gazing at the high ceilings with wide-eyed awe.

No. There was no way I’d ever slept with this guy. It wasn’t possible that I could ever forget a face like his.

He had to be a couple years older than me, but there was something amazingly unjaded about him—pure, almost, like he’d been able to escape whatever it was that made most people have a permanent tiredness to their eyes at our age. His skin looked so smooth, for God’s sake.

He looked like someone who’d never had a bad day in his life.

When he turned back to me, I didn’t bother hiding the fact that I’d been looking at him.

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my voice low and turning slightly closer toward him. “If I have to be at a wedding, it’s at least nice to have a gorgeous view.”

The corner of his lip quirked up in a smile again. “Are you here for the bride or the groom?” he asked.

“Bride,” I said. “Jenna and I used to date.”

He puffed out a quick laugh. “Funny. The groom and I used to date,” he said, grinning.

“You’re kidding me.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Nathaniel and I went on four dates, a long time ago, before he realized he wasn’t really that into men, after all. Still is a good friend, though.”

A sharp laugh escaped me, and two older couples briefly turned back to glare in my direction. I turned back to Ryan.

“I’ve gotta say, I’m only thinking one thing right now,” I said, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“What’s that?”

“…What did you do on that fourth date to make Nathaniel swear off dating guys for good?”

Ryan sat back in his seat. “You know, Emmett, I never kiss and tell.”

I shook my head, turning to face the front again, a faint smile still hovering on my lips.

Abort. Abort. Do not pursue this. Remember the rules—rule one, and rule two. It doesn’t matter how hot this guy is, and it doesn’t matter that he just told you he likes men.

Nothing good can come of a wedding hookup.

“So, when Jenna and Nathaniel have their first kiss as bride and groom…” Ryan said, “…it’ll kinda be like we’re kissing each other, huh?”

Do. Not. Engage.

“Uh,” I said, “Yeah, I guess. But sorry, you’ll be kissing me from six years ago. That’s when I dated Jenna. I promise I’m a much better kisser now.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing full well I shouldn’t have added that last part.

“So you don’t want this?” he said. I snapped my eyes toward him, half-worried he’d been reading my mind. His eyes glinted back at me, playful, almost. They were a blue so muted it was nearly grey, and I swear to God they could see right through me.

“What?” I said.

“This,” he said, gesturing around the room. “A wedding. You seemed pretty pissed off about being here.”

“Oh,” I said, “the wedding. God, no. I hate the idea of marriage.”

“Hate is a pretty strong word,” he said.

“Yeah, and I mean it. Hate. Marriage is mostly a sham.”

He lifted his eyebrows, propping one arm up on the seat back behind us and leaning his head on his hand. “Now, to me, that seems sad,” he said. “Sure, a lot of marriages end badly. But I still think it’s a beautiful thing. Falling in love, declaring your intentions with someone, committing for life.”

I rolled my eyes. “Excuse me while I barf,” I said.

“Don’t puke,” he said. “Your mouth is way too pretty for projectile vomiting.”

Woah.

I snorted, trying to act like I didn’t notice he’d just flirted with me, hard. “I have two friends named vodka and whiskey who would disagree with that.” I met his eyes again. “And come on. Look who’s talking.”

“What?” he said.

I let out a long breath, pausing for a moment.

Fuck it.

I scooted in closer to him, closing the distance between our bodies. I leaned in close, studying his eyes, and then letting my gaze wander lower, looking down at his suit. I could smell a hint of him—maybe aftershave, maybe shampoo—and I fought the urge to lean in even closer.

He didn’t back away at all when I came in close, like he was up for whatever challenge I had in mind. That made it even harder to pull away.

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back. “You can’t call me ‘too pretty’ when you’re the one who matched your suit perfectly to your eyes.”

He let out a low, rich laugh. “Guilty as charged,” he said. “And anyway, is it such a bad thing, when two people want something so much they’re willing to risk everything for it?”

“Hm?”

“Marriage,” he said, “that thing that makes you want to puke.”

I waved a hand dismissively. “Marriage is bullshit, and I’ll tell you why. It doesn’t work. At least twice, I’ve been with people who seemed amazing—loyal, sweet, kind people. And guess what? I found out later that they were actually married. And monogamous. And lying to me. One guy I was with for four months, the other luckily only lasted two weeks.”

“Ouch,” he said.

“Yeah. I felt like shit. Because I had no way of knowing I was being a bad guy in those situations. I had no idea those people were married. But of course, both of their marriages eventually failed.”

“That is some bad luck. And I’m sure it wasn’t your fault—if they were cheating, they had to have already been unhappy.”

I shrugged, waving a hand dismissively. “Anyway. I’m sure Jenna and Nathaniel will be happy,” I said. “but that doesn’t mean I have to like the idea of marriage.”

“Suit yourself,” Ryan said right as the wedding march began to play loud throughout the church. My eyes lingered on him for another few seconds—his styled hair, the curve of his neck, his voice still echoing in my thoughts.

He was nothing but trouble, to be sure. Annoyingly optimistic and one thousand percent not my type. Of course, the overactive part of my brain was already thinking about what it might be like to kiss him, to touch that impossibly smooth-looking skin, to run my hand through his hair and mess up that perfect styling. I was idly aware that I wanted those things, badly.

But there was no point.

I had two rules. And I was going to follow them.

* * *

The night air was bracingly cold as I stepped out onto the balcony at the wedding reception. I put up the collar of my coat, rubbing my hands together for warmth, then leaned on the wooden edge of the balcony. It was six o’clock and already dark outside, but the moon hung bright in the sky.

Ten years ago, this was the exact kind of place I’d have wanted to come out to and smoke and drink with friends, progressively getting drunker and figuring out who I’d want to hook up with that night. But now, my only companion was the occasional cold breeze, and the only other person on the balcony was a caterer setting up the small bar outside.

The wedding had been one of the longest ones I’d ever attended—Jenna’s friends and relatives sang, read passages about love, and the vows were long.

I probably would have fallen asleep if I hadn’t occasionally been glancing over at Ryan. At one point I swore his eyes got misty. Fucking cheesy bastard. I wondered if he was that emotional about everything.

But even someone as cynical as me could admit that this reception hall looked incredibly beautiful. It was cabin-style, the entire hall decked out in wood, pine garlands, and twinkling lights. The inside of the hall was strewn with candles and flowers, and the balcony that I’d just stepped out onto had warm, glowing lanterns and a beautiful view of the leafless trees and rolling hills of Upstate New York.

The reception was about to begin, and most of the wedding guests were gathering inside at the tables. I’d been appalled to discover that the reception dinner was also open seating, and so I’d come outside to skulk around the balcony until I could head back in after everyone else had settled down.

It was peaceful outside. Out here, it didn’t feel so utterly shameful that I was here all alone.

I jumped when someone appeared at my side. “Jesus,” I said, turning to see Ryan leaning on the railing right next to me. He had a nearly empty glass of champagne in his hand—he must have taken it from one of the inside tables.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, “Just needed some fresh air. That ceremony was… really moving.”

“I was just heading inside,” I lied, seeing his eyes. He really did look emotional—not fully sad, really, but there was a faraway, wistful glint to his gaze. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“No,” he said, turning to me. “God, I’m sorry. Don’t go in because of me.”

“Oh,” I said. “Are you… being polite, or do you really want the company?”

“I don’t know anyone else in that room, so for now, you’re the best friend I’ve got,” he said with a crooked grin. “I wouldn’t mind the company. I just moved to Rose Falls from the city.”

I nodded, relaxing back again onto the railing. “I don’t really know anyone else in there either. Well… I do, but not well enough, at least.”

“This is the thirtieth wedding I’ve been invited to in my adult life,” Ryan said, squinting out at the dark rolling hills at the horizon. “I’ve only actually attended half of them, but still. It really makes you think.”

“Think what?” I asked.

He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, the cloud of his breath visible in the cold air. “Well, to be honest, it makes me think about what the hell is wrong with me that I’m thirty-six and still on my own.”

My skin prickled and I could almost see ribbons of caution tape wrapped around Ryan, bright yellow in warning. My brain screamed at me again: abort mission, go back inside, this guy is way too emotional right now.

But then I looked at his eyes again, and all of my resolve melted away. The guy looked like the kind of person that would have tried to kick my ass in high school, and yet he was being shockingly vulnerable with me, displaying his emotions like an open book.

He wasn’t a jackass. He was being sincere.

“Dude,” I said, “Thirty-six is young. Stop it. There’s nothing wrong with you, and your marital status has nothing to do with your value as a human being.”

I usually wasn’t so straightforward with strangers, but hell—if he was being so maudlin in front of me, I was going to give him a piece of my mind.

“Logically, I know you’re right,” he said. “But sometimes I can’t help but feel like I keep missing the train, and one day, it might not ever come again.”

I bit my bottom lip, trying to suppress a laugh. I knew that laughing at this moment would be one of the rudest things imaginable, and I couldn’t bear to think that Ryan might assume I was making fun of him.

But it wasn’t that, at all. What was funny to me was that someone as seemingly perfect as him would be worried about any of this at all. It made sense when I worried about being alone forever—I was hard to deal with, terrified of commitment, and had never settled down in my life. But Ryan seemed like the perfect candidate to be someone’s husband.

“Ryan, look—I just met you, but can I be frank with you?” I said. I cocked my head to the side, looking over at him, and finally he met my eyes again.

“Go for it.”

“I think you’re being a little bit crazy. You’re… hilariously attractive, you seem really intelligent, and you’re probably pretty well-off if your expensive shoes and suit are any indication. I know I don’t know you that well, but I’d like to think I’m a good judge of character, and you… you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He paused for a moment, and I was sure that I’d said something wrong. “Wow,” he said finally. “I really wasn’t trying to fish for compliments, but now I’m kind of glad I apparently did. Thank you.”

I waved a hand through the air. “Don’t thank me. I’m probably the last person whose opinion you should trust, anyway. I don’t know shit about love and relationships. I don’t care about marriage.”

He sighed. “Must be nice not to care.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel broken, like I’m not on the same track that other people my age are. My life is stupidly simple. I work in a coffee shop, try to do my own design projects in my free time, eat, sleep, hang out,” I said. “Probably drink too much. Probably have too much sex,” I added, biting my tongue afterward. “I live like a twenty-year-old, but… I’m sure as hell not twenty anymore.”

He laughed, and for the first time since coming out on the balcony, his face looked as open and bright as it had in the church earlier. “Well, you certainly seem wise. And too much sex? God. You really are the opposite of me.”

A million responses to that statement ran through my head all at once.

Well, if you need more sex in your life, I certainly can help you with that.

If you want to be more like me, I’ll teach you.

Ryan, you could fuck me over this balcony right now if there weren’t a wedding going on twenty feet away.

“Yeah, well, my life’s not as great as it sounds,” I said quietly, averting my eyes from his, looking out at the bare trees. Every instinct in my body was telling me to go for it, to flirt with him hard and see if I could reel him in. The only thing holding me back were my two rules, trying hard to win out over my instincts.

“You work in a coffee shop? Which one?” he asked.

“It’s called Brew for You,” I said. “It’s across the street from Rose’s Mini-Mart. Coffee shop by day, beer bar by night.”

“Sounds awesome,” he said. “I’ll be sure to—”

“Shit,” I said, seeing out of the corner of my eye a blonde mop of hair heading toward the doors leading out to the balcony. It was David, with his wife, probably coming outside to smoke.

“What is it?” Ryan asked, turning toward the windows, looking inside.

“Uh—it’s somebody I really would rather not see. Here,” I said, grabbing Ryan’s hand quickly. It was so much warmer than mine, and I pulled him along to the other side of the balcony. There was another set of doors that led into a hallway behind the reception hall, and we went inside, heat enveloping us.

When we were inside, I became acutely aware of the fact that I was holding his hand for no reason, and I let it drop. In fact, there was no reason for me to have pulled Ryan inside with me at all.

“I’m sorry, I—” I ran my hand through my hair, taking a deep breath. “Weddings make me get… weird,” I finally said, glancing up at Ryan.

“I can see that,” he said, eyeing me. “But it’s fine. I’m the one who basically just blabbered about my loneliness to a stranger who’s too nice to tell me to fuck off, so… don’t worry about it, Emmett.”

“God, you keep doing that,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. Music began to travel from down the hall, and I knew that the reception was beginning.

“Doing what?” he asked.

I opened my eyes warily. “Being so nice to me. It makes things too difficult.”

He reached out a hand, gently brushing back the lock of my hair that I’d messed up. “What’s difficult?” he said, his voice low.

Fucking hell, he knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard. Every wall inside me was crumbling at an alarming pace. Honesty bubbled up inside me and found its way out before I could stop it.

“It’s difficult trying to pretend I don’t want to leave this wedding right now and invite you back to my place,” I said. “Make you come—two, maybe three times over the next twelve hours, then most likely never talk to you again.”

His eyes widened for the briefest moment before he relaxed into his laid-back posture once again. I could almost see the gears turning in his head. “I’m up for it,” he said, hitching one shoulder in a shrug, staring straight into my eyes.

I shook my head, taking a step back. “No. No way. I’m so far from what you want, and you’re a nice guy… just trust me, nothing good will come of this.”

“What? You clearly have your fair share of casual sex,” he said.

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“It’s not?”

I sighed. “Not when it’s the only thing you know how to do.” I bit the inside of my cheek. I didn’t know what this guy was trying to do to me, but his attempt at flirting was starting to feel like a therapy session.

“I understand the concept of a one-night stand. I can do it. I can obviously see you want to keep everything no-strings-attached. I’m attracted to you, so… why not?”

I paused, seeing a very clear road in front of me, with a huge fork at the center. I could go one of two ways. The road I wanted to take was the bad one, the wrong one—but it was the one I knew so well.

Ryan seemed so nice. Tender, almost, even though I’d only met him a couple hours ago. He clearly didn’t have hookups often, and the last thing I wanted was for him to end up hurt.

But a bigger voice inside me kept trying to drown it out. Ryan is an adult. He can make his own choices. He wants you—he fucking wants you, and you could have your lips around his cock in the next ten minutes.

My blood was already hot. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I watched him.

“I won’t cause you any trouble, Emmett.” His eyes raked over my body, and I swallowed hard.

“Prove it to me,” I said, my voice catching slightly.

He looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure that the hallway was still clear before closing the distance between our bodies. I could see he was trembling slightly, despite the outward confidence in how he approached me. He was nervous, and every wicked part of me secretly loved that I could see that. He pressed his palm to my chest, skating it downward, slowing as he approached my belt buckle.

Holy shit—was he crazy enough to undo my pants right here in the open hallway?

His palm traveled lower until it was over my cock, which was stiffening fast underneath my pants. I drew in a sharp breath as he leaned close to my face, his lips hovering an inch from mine. He smelled like champagne.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low. He squeezed my cock gently through the fabric, and I let out a small moan before he released it, grabbing my hand, and leading me down the hall. It felt like I had whiplash, vertigo, and had won the lottery, all at once.

He scanned every door, trying each unmarked one and finding that all of them were locked. We blew right past the doors that led into the reception area, music blaring from inside. At the end of the hall there was a door labeled “Supplies – Employees Only,” and Ryan tried the knob.

After a quick shove of his shoulder, the door opened easily. The tiny room was full of shelves stacked with dishes and tablecloths. It smelled of pine, and my eyes settled on a pile of wreaths laid in the corner, probably ready to be put out for the Christmas season.

When Ryan shut the door with the faintest click, we were in the dark. There was only one tiny window, certainly not more than a foot tall, in the upper right-hand corner of the room, letting in the faintest blue glow. And somehow the darkness felt like permission—I’d chosen my path, I’d gone down it, and now I was here. I knew this game, now, and I’d done this dance a thousand times before.

I pressed my body to his, pinning him against the back of the door. As I felt for his belt buckle, I began to sink to my knees. I wondered how quickly he would come once I had him deep in my throat.

“Hey,” he said softly, and I felt a tug on my jacket.

“Jesus, what kind of belt buckle is this?” I said, my fingers fumbling over it in the deep shadows.

“Hey,” he whispered again and this time pulled harder, willing me to stand up again. I dropped my hands from his belt and stood slowly, and his hands made their way to my hips, wrapping around me, unhurried. “Kiss me,” he said, squeezing his hands tight against me.

I palmed his erection through his pants, and he moved back slightly, arching away from my touch.

“Quit being so impatient,” he whispered, “and fucking kiss me.” I could see the hint of a smile on his face in the shadows.

I leaned in, tilting my head and pressing my lips to his, and the second our mouths touched his whole body relaxed underneath me. He sighed softly against me, and I briefly pulled his lower lip into my mouth, giving it the tiniest nibble before pulling away.

“Happy now?” I said, starting to sink to my knees again.

“Emmett,” he whispered, pulling me back up again and gripping me tight. “Just… wait a minute. I’m… I’m gonna come in two seconds flat if you do that right now.”

Oh. That’s what he was worried about?

I stroked him gently through his pants, tracing the outline of his cock with my fingertips. “I don’t see why that’s a problem,” I said.

“Stay here with me, for a while. I don’t want this to be over so soon.”

I pulled in a slow breath, my heart pumping hard in my chest.

“Clearly you don’t understand the meaning of a ‘quickie,’” I said, but I relented, bringing my hands up and wrapping them around his shoulders instead.

“Fuck off,” he said with the smallest laugh. And then he was pulling me toward him again, kissing me, this time deeper than the last. When he opened to me, his tongue was a flood of warmth, slow and hot against me, and I let myself indulge. Fine. If he wanted to pretend that this was something more than what it was, I would let him have it. I would play along.

As he kissed me I rutted my hips up against him, pressing my cock against his, feeling its hard contours through the fabric of our pants. It had been weeks since I’d touched anyone—for me, that was more like centuries—and when I finally gave into the sensations, I realized how badly I’d needed them.

As his hands roamed along my back, up under my jacket and shirt, it felt like reuniting with a friend I hadn’t realized I’d missed so badly.

Ryan was good at it, too. I’d been slightly worried he might fumble or hesitate, after his nervousness earlier, but the second he’d gotten his hands on me, it was as if he knew me, as if he’d touched me a thousand times before.

When he pulled back to take a breath, I moved downward, finding the smooth skin at the side of his neck and sucking a slow kiss against him there.

“Jesus, that’s so good,” he whispered, and his hand tightened in my hair. I felt his cock throb in his pants, pressed against my leg.

“It’ll feel even nicer against your cock,” I said against his skin, kissing lower and nibbling gently near his collarbone.

He groaned. “I needed this,” he whispered.

“Maybe you should do this kind of thing more often,” I said.

“Mmm,” he hummed, “If it’s always this good, then maybe I should.”

“Can I make you come now?” I asked.

He let out a breath, his eyes meeting mine in the near-darkness.

“Not ‘til I make you come first.”

I paused for a moment, my lips at the base of his neck. His pulse beat against me. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to, though,” he said, his hands moving lower and gripping firmly against my ass. He pulled me forward, bringing me even further up against him, our hips squeezed tight against one another.

“Now who’s impatient?” I said, bucking against his heat, my hands traveling to his shirt, unbuttoning the top few buttons. I reached a hand inside and skated my fingers over his nipple, feeling it harden under my touch.

He moaned against me, then took both my wrists in his hands, moving them away and pinning them at my sides. I liked this—him guiding me, telling me what to do. I had the urge to challenge him, to make him work for this, but at the same time it felt so good to just let go and let him take control.

I bit my bottom lip, letting him lead. He fixed his eyes on me for a moment before flipping our positions, turning around so that my back was pressed to the door. He sank to his knees, releasing my wrists, and began to undo my belt.

“You must really want it,” I teased him.

His eyes met mine, looking up at me from under his lashes. “Yeah,” he said, “I do really want it.”

I’d meant it as a joke, but he sounded dead serious.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do? Still into this?” he asked.

I nodded quickly. “Yes. I am one thousand percent sure. Please don’t stop.”

He nodded once and looked down again, pressing a gentle, dry kiss to my thigh, on the fabric of my pants. It was a simple but oddly comforting gesture, a moment of care that he chose to give, even though he didn’t have to.

He worked my belt and pants down and freed my cock, the air slightly cold against my skin. He hummed as he saw it, and placed his finger on the tip, making a small circle with the precum there. It was a tease, a hint of sensation when I wanted so much more—I loved it and I hated it with equal measure. I leaned back against the door, giving over to the sensation.

In a long, slow stroke, he took my cock into his mouth and sucked me. A low moan escaped my lips, and I dug a hand into his hair—I hadn’t been expecting him to go quick at all. I’d thought he would tease me, make me beg him, and go at a maddening pace, but instead, he’d taken my whole length all at once.

“Fuck,” I muttered, swallowing hard. He reached up to wrap his hand around the base of my cock as he worked his mouth around me, his other hand pressed tight on the small of my back.

He began to lay into me with a steady rhythm, working his mouth around my cock as I grasped his head in my hands. I could hear the sounds of the reception music faintly pounding from down the hallway, but now that felt like it was a different world entirely, faraway and foreign.

I realized that I didn’t know why I’d tried to resist this so much. It was nice—almost intoxicating, actually—and after a couple minutes I was sure that I could come at any moment. I felt so unusually comfortable around him, even though I’d just met him.

Sure, in some dull corner of my mind, I knew I was being bad, and wrong, and I shouldn’t have been doing what I was doing. But when I looked down and saw Ryan’s eyes gazing up at me, just a glint under dark eyelashes in the shadows, I couldn’t care at all if this was wrong. He was a fucking expert with his mouth, and a fucked-up part of me got off on the fact that I was doing this with him.

He was the opposite of me. He clearly loved the idea of marriage so much. And someday, he’d be like everyone else, committed and happy, with a perfect white picket fence around his yard.

But at this moment, he was all mine.

My breathing grew heavier and shorter as he quickened his pace. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come soon.”

He pulled off slowly, backing up a little, keeping his hand wrapped around my cock.

“Why you stopping?” I said, furrowing my brow.

“I’m not stopping,” he said, a faint smile on his lips.

I groaned, probably way too loudly.

“Shh, someone out there is going to hear you,” he said, stroking my cock at a slower pace.

“Fuck it,” I whispered, “If someone comes in, I’ll just tell them to see for themselves why I’m losing my mind in here. ‘Sorry, if you heard me groaning, it was because this awful man won’t let me come.’”

He hummed. “I’m going to let you come. A little patience never hurt anyone. I just want it to be good.”

Jesus. It was rare to have someone care so much about me during a simple hookup. His slow kisses, his attentiveness… It was driving me crazy. It was also turning me the fuck on.

I let out a long breath, bucking into his fist, cupping the side of his face with my hand. “Trust me, it’s gonna be good. Really good. Just… please.”

He leaned in close again, touching his tongue to my cock, and slowly dragging it, hot and wet, against the tip. I groaned loud again, and he pinched me at the skin above my hip.

“You need to learn to be quiet,” he said.

“You need to learn to—”

His lips wrapped around me again, and in one movement he took me deep inside his mouth. I bit down hard against my closed fist, letting out a hard sigh, trying so hard not to call out.

Finally, he took mercy on me. One of his hands wrapped warmly around my balls while he sucked hard on my cock. He was giving me what I’d wanted the whole time, and my hips began to thrust in time with his mouth. There was no doubting it now—he wanted me to come, and I was going to, soon.

My eyes fluttered shut and I forced them to open, to see him down there between my legs, like a perfect angel with my cock sliding in and out of his lips. He hummed around me as I thrust into him just a little deeper, a little faster.

He looked up and met my eyes. My breath hitched. I couldn’t look away from him as I felt my orgasm building deep inside me. He was so beautiful, and so eager, and at that moment, all the pressure from the whole day built up inside me and fell away into a thousand pieces.

Forget it. Forget about it all. No rules, no holding back, nothing other than the feel of his mouth taking you inside, warm and deep.

This was exactly where I belonged—in the dark, with a stranger, sharing something only we would ever know about.

I let out a low, shuddering moan as I felt myself starting to come, and he took my cock deep into his mouth, sucking hard around me. I clasped my hands tight around him, buried in his hair, pulling him so close to me as I came and came inside him. My mind was beautifully blank, my thoughts as quiet and still as the dark room, the only sound our equally heavy breathing. My thighs were like jelly, and I pressed against the cool door behind me for support.

He swallowed as he pulled back, slow and deliberate. His eyes watched me as he let my cock slide from his mouth. The faint light caught his lips, and they glistened briefly, wet and slick, before he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

I lazily raised a hand, hitching my finger in a come here motion, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes. He slowly rose from his knees, and I pulled him hard against me, kissing him deeply, tasting the hint of myself on his mouth.

“You made this day a whole lot better,” I said, my voice low.

“You made mine better, too,” he said.

“Mmm,” I hummed, kissing him once against his neck.

Despite myself, I’d enjoyed how he had teased me. But I wasn’t going to play any of those games. I went to my knees and quickly worked his cock free. A wet spot had gathered at his tip.

“Jesus, you have a nice cock,” I said as I pulled it fully out of his pants, seeing the full length of it. I felt a little silly declaring it that way, but I could appreciate beauty when I saw it.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I kissed the tip, tonguing it, before taking him into my mouth. He sighed, shaking a little, and I reveled in being able to undo him so quickly. I worked my mouth up and down a few times, slicking him fully, before leaning forward, arching my neck, and taking him briefly all the way into my throat.

“Oh my God,” he said, his eyes wide. I moved back, my breath returning to me. I wasn’t sure if anyone had ever deep-throated him before, but he seemed impressed, and I relished every second of it.

I returned to my steady rhythm again, working my hands up to his ass and squeezing, before taking him in my throat again.

“Fuck, Emmett—” he said, his voice breaking.

I moved off him, pulling back, catching my breath.

“It’s so good,” he said, reaching down to brush against my slicked lips with his thumb.

I nodded. “You’re already close, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been close this whole time,” he said, “I’m gonna come soon, I can’t help it, I’m so sorry….”

“That’s fucking hot; you do realize that, right?” I said. “Don’t apologize. You can come whenever you feel like it.”

I sank down around his cock again, his moans and curses filling the small space.

When he started repeating my name—softly, then gradually getting louder—I knew he was about to lose control. He started to buck into my mouth and all of a sudden he was coming, letting out a long, low groan as he thrust forward into me.

He looked gorgeous when he came. If I hadn’t known how good he felt I would have sworn he looked like he was about to cry—face screwed up, furrowed brow, lips parted as he breathed heavily.

I swallowed around him, taking it all, waiting as he slowly started to come back down to earth.

“God, you’re fucking incredible,” he whispered, his chest heaving as he slowly opened his eyes. I pulled off his cock and rose slowly until I was standing again. He pulled me in to kiss me again—a surprise, honestly—I had figured that after he came, he would want to get out of here as quickly as possible.

That was how it usually went. But clearly, Ryan was different.

His kiss actually felt more passionate now, after he’d come. He wrapped his arms tight around me, holding me close like he needed this badly, and nuzzling against me even after the kiss had ended.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said, “I’m more than okay. I… haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

I nodded slowly. A spark of worry fluttered in my chest.

Because it was true for me, too. I hadn’t felt this good in a while, and I couldn’t even remember a hookup I’d enjoyed this much in recent memory. Every time I had anonymous sex, it was in search of times like this—people I had real connections with—but it almost never actually happened.

It was rare, and that was kind of terrifying. Because I knew I was never going to do this with him again.

He leaned in to kiss me again, but I pulled back.

“I, uh…” I started, “I’ve gotta get back.”

“Oh,” he said, reaching up to smooth out his hair. “Of course.”

“We should probably go make an appearance at the reception, right?”

He nodded quickly. “Right, right.”

As we both pulled up our pants and redid our zippers and belts in silence, the slow joy of our encounter started to fade, anxiety taking its place. I’d done the one thing I’d been trying to not do, and now I’d have one more face in the crowd to avoid for the rest of the night.

And his would be the hardest to avoid.

“This was fun,” I said to him briskly as I opened the door, poking my head outside to check that the coast was clear.

When we stepped back into the hallway, I started to walk away, but he grabbed my hand, pulling me back. I turned around, meeting his eyes, which were now somewhere between the placid calm and overly emotional state I’d seen them in today.

“Thank you,” he said, dropping my hand.

I nodded, looking down and seeing that the top few buttons of his shirt were still undone. I reached out to button them back up, then looked at him again with a nod.

“No problem. Have a good night, Ryan.”

I strode fast down the hall and walked straight into the reception.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. I should have known—there was no loud music currently playing—I’d walked in right during the middle of a speech, and dozens of heads turned to look at me as I entered the room. My face grew hot, and I kept my head down as I made my way to one of the only half-empty tables in the room.

I sat down next to a woman named Brenda, who was a regular at Brew For You (large nonfat latte, three Splendas). She was recently retired and came in every morning to read her newspaper with a coffee. I didn’t know her that well, but at least I didn’t feel searingly awkward sitting next to her.

“Hello, Emmett. Nice of you to show up,” she whispered to me as I sat, quickly reaching for the glass of champagne in front of me. Brenda put her hand on my wrist. “That champagne is for the toast!” she whispered.

I sighed, bringing my hands to my lap and pretending to pay attention to the speech. Ryan slipped in after me and luckily sat at a different table, on the other end of the room.

After the toast had been made, and I had drained the glass of champagne, Brenda turned to me again.

“So I see you met Ryan Bretton?” she said.

“Oh,” I said, “Yeah, he is new in town. Seems like a… nice guy.”

She nodded, smiling wide. She’d applied her usual too much blush, but it looked sort of sweet, like she’d always just come in from the cold. “I’ve run into him at the park a few times since he moved here,” she whispered. “He always goes to the farmer’s market. His wife and baby are the cutest things you’d ever see… I’m really not sure why they didn’t come along with him tonight… oh, well, maybe the mom thought it would be better to stay home with the baby. She’s a young one, can’t be older than six months. I don’t remember his wife’s name—Sarah? Sheila? Oh, you’ll have to ask him… um, Emmett, honey, are you alright? Your face is awfully red—here, take my ice water, dear?”

I was staring at her so intently my eyes had begun to lose focus. I heard the vague sound of applause around me, and the din of the room grew louder. The speech must have ended.

“Brenda—I’m sorry—what the fuck are you talking about?”

She arched her eyebrows. “Well, I don’t think you need to use that language with me, but really, are you feeling okay?”

She pushed the water glass closer toward me.

My eyes darted across the room until they found Ryan. I glared at him, though he didn’t notice—he was in the middle of eating the salad that the caterers had begun to serve. I looked back to Brenda, pointing right at Ryan.

“That is the Ryan you’re talking about? Him? New in town, tall, looks like he should be in some sort of winter clothing catalog?”

She peered over. “Oh yes, that’s definitely him.”

“He is the one with a fucking wife and baby?”

“Gee, I didn’t know you had such a foul mouth, Emmett,” she hissed, pursing her lips like she’d just been force-fed an underripe lemon. “But yes, dear, that’s him. Couldn’t miss that face. Quite a looker, isn’t he?”

The tablecloth looked like it was spinning underneath me. Every muscle in my body began to clench.

He was married. The fucker was married. He had sat there, listening to me complain about marriage, about cheaters, about people using me to cheat, and the whole time he’d had a wife and baby?

It was fucked up. It was an insult. I unclenched my fist and saw that I’d pressed little red crescent moons into the palm of my hand.

“Oh, this salad dressing has far too much pepper—” Brenda was saying as I got up from the table, the chair legs making an awful sound as they scraped against the parquet floor.

“I’m sorry Brenda, but I’ve got to—I’m—”

I didn’t bother finishing my sentence. I strode over to the table where Ryan was sitting, absorbed in his little salad, munching down leaves like he hadn’t a care in the world. There was one other couple at his table, involved in their own conversation.

I stopped at the edge of the table, standing over Ryan until finally he glanced up from his plate. He jumped a little when he saw me, his eyes growing wide.

“Hey, Emmett,” he said, coughing once and reaching toward the seat next to him, pulling it out. “Need somewhere to sit? You’re welcome to join—”

“Do you get off on this or something?” I said, my voice clipped. I ignored the strained glance that the other couple at the table shot toward me.

Ryan slowly set down his fork. “I’m sorry—what?” he said, his voice measured and calm.

“People like you have some sort of fucking pathology,” I said. The vice grip around my head tightened as Ryan’s face fell. “You don’t even care, do you? You just wanted a quick fuck on your one night alone.”

The table next to us had now noticed me, and I shot them a glare.

“One night alone?” he said, turning toward me. “And yeah, of course, I wanted a… quick thing, isn’t that the point?”

“Well, what about the baby you have at home?” I said, crossing my arms.

Ryan furrowed his brow, putting his napkin on the table and standing up. His voice was hushed as he spoke. “Not that it’s any of your business—and I don’t know who told you about Anna—but yes, this is one of my only nights alone, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having fun on it.”

A loud, harsh laugh escaped me as I dug my hands through my hair. “Unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.” The guy was completely undisturbed by the fact that he had cheated on his wife that night. He was acting as if it was perfectly normal, something everyone did from time to time, like hiking or going for brunch.

“Listen,” he said, putting his hand on my arm.

I yanked it out of his grip. “Don’t touch me.”

He lowered his hands to his sides slowly, backing off. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but clearly what we did earlier was a huge mistake.”

“Yeah, no shit,” I said. “My first idea was to toss champagne in your face, so consider yourself lucky. Hell, I might still do it—I haven’t decided yet.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Let’s just forget tonight ever happened. I don’t know what difference Anna makes to you, but you don’t need to treat me like this. Goodbye, Emmett.”

I shook my head. My hands were shaking hard. “Yeah, let’s forget it happened. But if I see you again, I’m going to sock you in the face. I don’t care if she’s with you or not. Have fun explaining that to her.”

And I really would. If I saw him with his wife, I didn’t know what I might say to them.

He squinted at me. “Who hurt you? You really are a sad, bitter person, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I’m bitter because of assholes like you.”

“You can’t talk to me like that—”

“I can and will. Have fun with your kid and your wife, you cheating bastard.”

His eyes widened again, and he started to say something, but I turned hard on my heel and made a beeline for the doors. Whatever else he had to tell me, I didn’t want to hear it. I heard him call my name a couple times, but before long I broke into a jog down the empty hallway and out to my car.

I didn’t care if I looked like an idiot. I could apologize to Jenna later, maybe send her another wedding gift. I just couldn’t be in the room with him any longer.

When I got in my car and started the engine, I saw him running out the front doors of the venue. I drove off fast into the dark streets, checking the rearview mirror as the venue got smaller and smaller behind me. I reached up to my neck to work my tie loose—it had begun to feel like a noose, strangling and suffocating.

I heaved a heavy sigh, looking down at the speedometer, seeing that I was going twenty miles an hour over the speed limit. I eased my foot off the gas.

“Fuck,” I said softly, my voice strange and alien in the empty car. I will not cry over this, I told myself, but I was too angry for any tears, anyway. How could another person have lied to me, so plainly? Was there something fundamentally broken about me that made people do it? Was it written on my face or something? Lie to me, ladies and gentleman; you surely won’t be the only one!

I’d thought he had been so different. For a moment, it had really felt like he cared.

But it was just another notch on my belt, to be nestled tight into the category of “utter disasters.”

Never again, I told myself for the millionth time. I was an idiot, a sucker, a glutton for punishment.

But I was never going to fall for this shit again.