“Shit,” I muttered, stumbling as I crossed the dance floor. This damn slinky dress kept catching the heels of my matching strappy, silver shoes, and it was the perfect storm. I couldn’t get away from that table fast enough.

Seeing Noah, talking to him, those were the last things I needed right now.

It wasn’t as if I could miss Marc’s wedding day, and I’d figured Noah would be here, but all the feelings that’d come rushing back? I’d been entirely unprepared for those, especially since I’d just had my heart dragged ass-backward through shattered glass.

I made it to the carpeted corridor outside the events hall and hightailed it for the ladies’ bathroom. I needed a makeup touch-up and a serious chat with myself about all of this. Sure, it wasn’t exactly sane to face myself in a mirror and give a full-scale lecture, but it had always worked in the past.

The “Erika, get your shit together” talk was my trademark.

I stormed past the cream walls, the photographs and paintings, under expensive chandeliers, and into the marble-bedecked bathroom. No lock on the door, but a glance at the mirror showed me all the stalls were empty, their doors open.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity shit bang fuck,” I muttered. Yep, the cursing always helped too.

Why did he have to be so gorgeous? He was infuriating, disgustingly handsome, and everything I despised. Why? Because he had the potential to make me feel things. Things that made what I’d just gone through with Jason seem like a fucking vacation.

“Enough,” I said, and pointed at my reflection in the mirror. “Look at yourself.” And I did. Mascara running under my eyes and my nose was all red-tipped and dumb. “Get your shit together, Erika. You’re not here for yourself. You’re here to celebrate with your brother. Ignore the goober and all his hotness. Ignore his charming ways. Ignore his…everything.” Especially that dick. “And try to enjoy yourself. You deserve this.”

And I did. I’d just lost everything. One day of not worrying about what the future held would be nice.

One day before I had to set new goals for myself and figure out a way to attain them. This was a “me” day, not an “obsess about the past and what could never be” day. “Fix your ass up, and get out there, bitch,” I said and poked the mirror once.

I opened my clutch and withdrew a pack of Kleenex and my mascara. It would have to do. I touched myself up, took a deep breath, adjusted my boobs in this unnaturally tight “this is a me day” dress, then made for the exit.

I pushed out and slammed right into a wall. “Ouch. Ow, ow, ouch, oh my god.” I clutched my left boob. “That hurts.”

“Erika, are you OK?” It was him. It was the naughty reminder of my teenage fantasies made flesh. I was thirty-four years old, and I still thought of Noah in those terms.

“Sure,” I said, still gripping my boob. I winced a smile at him. “Sure. I only ever wanted one, anyway. One’s better than none.”

“Jesus,” he said and snorted a laugh. “I mean, sorry. Are you—?”

“In excruciating pain? Totally humiliated? Not at all,” I replied. “This is a normal Saturday night for me.”

This time the snort turned into a full throaty bout of laughter. “Erika.”

“What?”

“I wanted to apologize for earlier. For upsetting you.”

“You didn’t upset me, Cox,” I replied. “You merely reinforced the stereotypes I’ve always held about you.” The tears hadn’t been about him. Not really. They’d been about all I’d lost and the contrast between that and what my brother had gained.

I was happy for Marc, of course, but that small selfish part I’d always had, that everybody had, envied him. I’d never have that. And that was fine. I was more career-focused anyway. Or I would be, now.

“Glad to see you’re not bitter,” he said, with a smile that held all the promises he’d never kept.

Oh good god, why did he have to be this good-looking? This tall. This dark-haired and espresso-eyed. This delectable. He was a walking treat, flavored arrogant, and I’d never allowed myself the thought of unwrapping him.

I released my boob—’cause, yeah, that wasn’t embarrassing at all—and made to step around him, just as he stepped toward me. We collided again, and I careened forward, arms flailing.

He caught me around the waist in one arm and moved his foot to brace against the fall. His shoe caught the hem of my dress. A fantastic riiip sounded, and cold air rushed over my thighs.

“Oh. My. God,” I wheezed, staring at the crimson-patterned carpet. “Tell me what I think just happened didn’t just happen.”

“It’s OK,” Noah said, “you’ve got a fantastic ass. If anything, this is an improvement.” He set me on my feet, and I thwacked him on the arm.

“Noah!”

“I love it when you say my name,” he grunted, still grinning like a loon.

“That’s not funny!” I gathered the tattered back of my dress and tried tugging it closed. “Oh my god. This is a disaster.”

“Is it?” he asked. “Don’t you have a room upstairs? You can get changed.”

“Into what? Sweats? I’m sure that will go down well.”

“Oh come on, you could wear a trash bag and make it haute couture,” he replied.

I blinked and stared at him. Huh? Did Noah Cox just compliment me? That’s a first. “I—what?”

“Come on,” Noah said. “I’ll cover your ass while we head for the elevators. Lead the way.”

He was dead serious. God, I’d envisioned waddling up to the room in total humiliation, all alone, ass out, but he’d do this for me? “Why?” I asked. “You hate me.”

“That’s just what you want to believe,” he replied and gripped my arm, too tight.

I shook him off and made for the end of the hall. Noah tailed me, like the puppy dog I’d never wanted, and we reached the golden buttons in no time. I pressed the up arrow and waited, holding my breath to keep from inhaling his smoky, delicious cologne. “Thanks for doing this,” I managed.

“Trust me when I say it’s a pleasure.”

I glanced back at him, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy checking out my ass. My skin prickled hot, and I forced myself to focus on the silvery doors rather than him. This was a game to him. It had always been a game.

Keep telling yourself that. Seriously. Or you’ll make a total idiot of yourself again.

Finally, thankfully, the elevator doors dinged open, and we duck-waddled inside. At least, I did. Noah strode in like he owned the place. He’d always had that kind of vibe. Then again, he came from a rich family. He probably had the opportunity to own whatever he wanted.

Except for me. And I’d keep it that way.

I hit the floor number—three—then backed up against the wall so he couldn’t check out my ass on the ride up. It was super quiet and super awkward.

The doors rolled open again, and I led the way down the hall, fumbling my keys out of my clutch while Noah shadowed me. I didn’t dare look back. Breathing him in was difficult enough as it was.

I halted in front of my door, swiped the keycard against the jamb, then entered, breathing hard. Noah followed me in and nudged the door shut with his heel.

“And safe,” he said. Probably his way of lightening the mood. It didn’t help.

I faced him, hiding my exposed ass from view, and nodded. “Thanks for this,” I said, forcing myself to hide the mortification. Today had been a fuckup from face-hole to asshole. From start to finish. “I appreciate it. And I’m sure you know how hard it is for me to say that, given our history.”

“Our history,” Noah said, and took one step closer.

I stepped back. “Yes. The fact that we hate each other.”

“Is that it?” He tilted that too-sexy head to one side and examined me. I was the ant, he was the guy with the magnifying glass. Well, this ant wasn’t about to get burned. Not again. “Hate? Is that what you think?”

“I’d love to talk about it,” I said, “really discuss this further, but my ass is out, and I’m starting to frost up. So I’m going to go get changed.”

He took another step forward, and this time, I didn’t move away. It was too much, being this close to him. His heat and the expression in his eyes, the sheer need radiating from him. This had to be some kind of joke.

Thirty-four fucking years old, and still he drove me crazy. He still made me feel like I was some dumb kid in high school crushing on her brother’s best friend.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if it was another ill-delivered joke or not.

We’d never joked like this. We’d kept things hostile or aloof. Never jovial. This was out of character for him. For us. Was it pity? Because he’d seen me crying? Way to super overthink things. “You’re full of jokes today,” I said, belatedly, but stood my ground. I lifted my chin. I wouldn’t let him intimidate me. He’d done nothing but since I was a teen, and I wouldn’t allow it now.

“Who’s joking?” he asked, and cupped my cheek. He stroked his thumb over it, and goose bumps rose in its wake.

This was bad, bad, bad. And super fucking confusing. “Noah. What the hell are you doing?”

“What I’ve dreamed of doing since that day I left for med school.” He brought his lips down on mine and paralyzed me with a kiss I’d never believed would happen. Not in a million years. Not in my wildest dreams.

He looped an arm around my back, drove one hand into my hair, and tugged it back. He descended on my neck, covering it in raw, wet kisses, searing my skin with his touch.

“Oh my god,” I groaned, and leaned into him. It was too good. It was too much. “Noah, you asshole. What are you—oh fuck.”

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” He nipped my skin with those perfectly white teeth, and it was like he’d punctured me.

All the pressure that’d built inside me over the past few months, coupled with that unrequited need for a man I’d thought despised me as much as I did him, bubbled over. I tore at his jacket and stripped it off, worked on his buttons next. My fingers slipped on them, and I moaned my frustration.

“Tear it, Erika, I don’t care. Rip it off.”

I inserted my fingers between the buttons and tugged the plackets apart. The buttons pinged off in every direction, and I caught my first glimpse of his chest. Hard, tight, muscled, and decorated with tattoos. Swirling images, a dragon here, a clock there. A tree of life. It was too much to take in at once. The colors, the need.

Noah dug his fingers into the rip of my dress and tore it open even further. He stripped the straps from my arms and exposed me totally. I didn’t cover myself. I was too lost in him.

He halted, only for a second, and met my gaze. “Come with me,” he said.

For once, and just this once, I did as he asked.