They traveled a couple more hours, snacking on chips and all the other things Samantha had stowed away in her bag for the trip, but eventually Tristan turned off the highway, just outside of Pennsylvania. Her brows furrowed, and she rolled up the bag of barbecue, knowing they still had a good two hundred miles yet before their destination. “Don’t tell me we need gas again?” she asked.

He shook his head, his brow slightly furrowing. “Nah, I thought we’d stop for the night. I’m getting tired.” He said it quietly, but there was something under the surface that made her stomach constrict. Because it wasn’t true. By now she knew him well enough. Knew when he was tired and when he wasn’t. She also knew when something was bothering him. She could feel it in her bones. If they drove a few more hours, they would be there. At the wedding, which was the point of this whole crazy trip. But she kept her mouth shut…because she knew exactly what this was. This was their last night together. Their last hoorah, their last roll in the hay.

A few minutes later, Tristan turned into the parking lot of the Grand Belleview hotel, confirming it. It wasn’t the first motel they had passed, but this place was gorgeous. Ten stories high, all windows, with red carpets that led up to the entrance.

Tristan put the car in park, took his wallet from the center console, and pulled in a breath. Suddenly this felt like so much more than their last night. This felt like goodbye. Like she was stepping onto a plane with a one-way ticket. Tomorrow they’d be at the wedding, and all this would stop. If for no other reason, than for Renee. Because she didn’t deserve this drama before her wedding. Because up until this point, as far as Renee knew, they were two people who couldn’t stand each other. But at the same time, if this ride went on for much longer, Samantha wasn’t sure she’d be able to jump off. She turned toward the window, pulling in a deep breath to give herself strength. “It went by pretty quickly, considering.”

He leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms overhead. “Yeah, it did.”

She nodded at his reflection, squeezing the door handle, knowing she was about to cry. She hated goodbyes, even when she knew they weren’t forever.

She got out of the car, gathered her backpack to keep herself busy, then turned around to find him right behind her. He didn’t say anything, just took the bag from her shoulder and began walking toward the hotel.

There was a large fountain in the foyer, with large purple and blue lights that moved like currents. It reminded her of an aquatic version of the solar system. With a thousand playful lights dancing on the surface like stars.

Tristan headed straight for the counter, but she touched his arm, making him turn around to face her. “I haven’t talked to Ren in a couple of days—” she said softly. “Do you mind if I borrow your phone?”

He didn’t even wait for her to finish before typing in the password and placing it in her hand. He held her fingers, loosely, but all encompassing, and his eyes met hers. As though asking what she was thinking. But then he smiled, a soft tender smile that made her whole body melt. “Tell her I said ‘hi.’ ”

He let go then, setting a million butterflies loose in her stomach, before turning again to the counter.

When she moved toward the fountain again, she took a deep breath to clear her head. He was so perfect. So utterly amazing that she almost hated the fact she had to walk away. She began dialing Renee’s number but she only got four numbers in before the contact pulled up. “Li’l sis.”

She smiled at the name, but an unpleasant taste crept up her throat at the same time. She was Renee’s maid of honor. The girl Renee should trust most in this world, yet here she was, sleeping with her friend’s brother. Samantha pressed her forehead into her palm and sent through the call before she had time to think about it. With one step in front of the other she paced the floor, trying to decide what to do about the situation. On one hand, it was no one’s business at all whom she slept with. Including her best friend. On the other, she’d always made it Renee’s business to know all there was about her, and the last time she kept a secret it almost killed her.

“Hello,” Renee answered, nearly making Samantha’s heart seize in her chest. “I can’t answer the phone right now. I’m getting married and stuff. Leave a message and I might call you back.”

Samantha laughed at the message, as blood rushed back up to her face. She waited for the beep before filling her lungs with air. “Hey Ren, it’s me…” She took a step forward, knowing a confession like this wasn’t one that should be left in a message. She then sat on a bench and squeezed her eyes shut. “Long story short, but my phone is dead. We’ll be in New York tomorrow afternoon. I’ll tell you all the gory details then.” She looked over at Tristan, unable to prevent her eyes from raking over his entire body. “If you need me, call Tristan, okay?” She cleared her throat, averting her eyes once again to the floor. “Bye.”

She hung up the phone feeling somewhat relieved and turned around to head back to the reception desk, but a text notification popped up on the phone, stopping her.

“I can’t imagine my life without you.”

She looked away the second she saw it, before she could even see who it was from, but it was too late. She’d seen it, she’d read it, and her heart shattered into a million pieces.

Tristan stood across the foyer, his large form leaning against the counter. He was talking to the woman at the reception desk, his wallet out, deep in conversation. It was an invasion of privacy, but she didn’t care anymore. She walked farther into the seating area and looked down to the phone again. It was locked.

She took a deep breath. “Good riddance.” But she wasn’t quite sure she felt it. Because something had wrapped itself around her heart, squeezing it harder with each passing second. Whoever was texting Tristan had nothing to do with her. Whoever it was, who thought they couldn’t live without him, was none of her concern.

She gripped his phone tighter, then dropped her hands to her sides and walked toward the counter. The woman there was giving him directions to their room, but Samantha barely heard any of it. This was a temporary relationship, a rebound, and she wouldn’t allow herself to get hurt.

He slung his backpack over one shoulder, then walked the short distance to the elevator. He pressed the call button, then turned around to look over his shoulder. “Everything Good?” he asked, tilting his head as though wondering why she wasn’t following.

She only nodded and stepped toward him. The elevator doors opened then, and she didn’t stop until she was securely inside, leaning against the banister, where she was steady enough to hand him back his phone. “Thank you,” she whispered.

His brows furrowed as he took it from her fingers. “Everything okay?”

She looked up, her stomach so twisted she thought she might be sick. “She didn’t answer,” she whispered. But a vice tightened around her heart and she couldn’t remain quiet. “I don’t think we should say anything to her. About this.” She waved her hand around the elevator, but the meaning was clear. She didn’t want to tell Renee about them. About whatever this was. Whatever had happened between them.

“Okay,” he agreed. But it was a little too quickly. A little too soon…

Her brows furrowed, because for some reason his easy agreement hurt. She said it wouldn’t, had told herself a thousand different ways that this time she could stop it, but… “She’s the bride,” she explained. “And I don’t want any attention going anywhere else.”

He nodded.

“I’ll tell her later. I mean, if it comes up. When she gets back from Cabo.”

He nodded again. “Sounds good.”

The doors opened, but neither of them exited. He looked at her, a frown making his handsome features somehow more heartbreaking. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re acting funny.”

She was like a deer caught in headlights, unsure which direction to turn. Because if she went right, her future was waiting. Without a career, without a relationship, without a best friend. But if she turned left, if she asked him about the message, she might find things she never wanted to know. Things that would cut deep, would alter all they shared together, and leave her broken at a time she needed to be strong. Instead, she walked toward him, right into the fire, and wrapped her arms around his body. His heat was scorching, his body solid and strong, and even if it killed her later, she would allow herself to hold him just a little bit longer.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, so tight it was almost crushing. “Are you okay, Samantha?” he asked her once again.

“I’m perfect,” she whispered, though she knew it was a lie. But she was good at faking happiness. So good she’d fooled even herself for six years.

He grinned at her, apprehensively, but still sexy as hell, then lifted her in his arms and walked out of the elevator to the door of their room. He entered the card in the slot, not allowing her to slip. “Good.”

He kissed her lips and pushed it open. It was a kiss of goodbyes, of last chances, and not wanting to let go. He kicked the door closed, carried her to the bed in the middle of the room, laid her in the center, and knelt beside her. His eyes were only on her, as though she was someone to be worshipped. As though he was admiring a fine painting he’d spent a lifetime trying to see. He began unbuttoning her top, pushing it roughly over her shoulders before climbing on top of her to straddle her hips.

She was pinned beneath him, unable to move if she wanted to, but she didn’t care. He unfastened the clasp of her bra, pulling the cups to each side.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. He then lay between her open thighs, and she wrapped her arms around his back, desperately. He rocked into her. She could feel him hard beneath his jeans, could feel his heart racing, but when she moved her hands to free him, he took both of them and held them above her head.

His mouth covered her nipple, causing her head to press back into the mattress. Because when he touched her, all thoughts were irrelevant. There was nothing else. No weddings, no secrets. No months or weeks. No days or nights. Just this one. She wanted this to last forever. For his lips to kiss her a thousand times, for him to keep telling her she was beautiful.

His mouth moved down her belly, and his hands unfastened her shorts. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide them down her thighs, until she lay there completely naked, shaking with desire.

He knelt between her thighs again, and pulled his shirt over his head. Then he grabbed her by the hips and yanked her body toward him. His fingers ran down the tops of her thighs, all the way to her knees before climbing up again.

She pulled in a long breath, completely fascinated by his skilled fingers. He inched closer to the apex of her thighs, until one finger slipped between the slick folds.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Two fingers plunged inside her, making her arch her back against the sheer pressure. “You’re so wet.” His eyes were on hers, hungry, starving, and watching her every move. He curled his fingers inside her, pressing up toward her belly. To a place she’d never been touched before. She trembled at the sensation, her body climbing higher toward climax in just a second. His thumb began to move in slow circles at her nub, his fingers rocking her, coaxing her.

She began to pant. She wanted him so bad she couldn’t even think. She wanted him so bad it was hard to breathe.

His fingers plunged inside her. Again and again, curling, rubbing, stretching her. His head then dipped down, and suddenly his mouth joined his fingers.

She couldn’t handle any more. She couldn’t take one more second of this sweet, sexy, titillating torture. She closed her eyes, clenching the sheets in her fists. His mouth was warm and soft, his breath cool, his groans heavy.

He began to kiss her. Really kiss her. His tongue plunging in and out, his whiskers abrasive against her inner thighs. Every inch of her body screamed for release. All her senses were stimulated at once. She felt her body involuntarily tighten, tense, and she knew she was about to release. She grabbed hold of his hair and tried to pull him higher so she could take him with her. He wouldn’t budge. He only pinned her hands to her sides as he counted his slow torture.

He kissed her, sucked her, ravaged her, until she was a quivering mound beneath him.

“Tristan,” she begged, even though she didn’t exactly know what she was asking for. “Tristan.” His fingers kept plunging, his thumb stroking, but he lifted his head slightly, his eyes hungry on hers. “Let go, Samantha. Don’t fight this.”

She shook her head, her pulse beating a thousand beats. “Tristan,” she called out again.

“I got you,” he demanded.

Her body instantly shuddered, giving in to his will. Her head fell back to the pillow, and her core clenched and pulsed all around his fingers. Her whole frame melted into the mattress, like butter under the sun. His body settled upon hers, heavy and solid, and she kissed his head, holding him firm to her breast.

“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked, but then thought better of the question. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

He laughed on top of her, kissed her nipple, her collarbone, up to her lips where she could taste herself on his tongue.

She was his. Wherever he wanted to go, whatever he wanted to do, she was at his mercy. She was his, and she was a fool to ever think otherwise.

His phone began to vibrate in his pocket between them, causing reality to crash down upon them all at once. He closed his eyes, cringing as the phone buzzed yet again. He rolled off her to the side of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “I need to get this.”

She pushed herself from the mattress and nodded. She couldn’t see his face, but the tension in his back told her all she needed to know. It was the same person from earlier. Possibly the same person who couldn’t live without him.

She got off the bed, took his shirt from the floor, and dragged it over her head.

“Hello,” she heard him say, just as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

She looked at herself in the mirror. To her long blond hair that framed her now flushed cheeks. To Tristan’s too large t-shirt that covered her trembling body. To her eyes that pleaded with her, telling her not to admit that she was lost. But she was. Somewhere along the way she had fallen, sometimes kicking and screaming, but there was no denying it any longer. She had fallen in love with Tristan Montgomery.

It was bitter realization, and one she was reluctant to make, but she was fooling herself to think this could be only a fling. This was real, heavy, and bigger than anything she’d ever felt before. And it would shatter her soul before it was over.

Still hearing his voice through the door, she pulled the t-shirt over her head, and then turned on the water to mute out the sound. To not listen to the man she was falling in love with talking to another woman.

The water was hard and warm when she stepped into the shower. She let the stream beat down on her, hoping the feeling would offer some sort of distraction. The water warmed her, comforted her, but could never wash away the kisses he ferociously left behind.

The door to the bathroom opened a moment later, and soon Tristan was standing behind her. His body pressed against hers, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer again. She told herself not to ask, to enjoy the rest of the evening, and the body that was only hers on loan, but she couldn’t. She needed to know, she needed answers.

Turning to face him, she rested her hands on his bare chest as looked up into his eyes. She couldn’t let herself fall and not try to stop it when she knew all that waited for her was thorns. “Who was that?” she asked.

He looked into her eyes, pleading for her not to ask the question.

“Who was that?” she asked again. She asked for the sixteen-year-old girl who was too insecure to call him out on his behavior. For the girl who wasn’t strong enough to resist a six-year long relationship, even though she knew it wasn’t what she wanted.

He cleared his throat and looked over her head to grab a bottle of soap. “It was my mom.”

She ripped the curtain open, not able to bear his lies, and got out of the shower. She yanked a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her body. “Don’t lie to me.”

Her world was crashing in all around her, the walls, the ceiling. He followed after her, grabbed hold of her arms, and forced her to look up at him. “I don’t lie.”

That was the second time he’d said that to her, and her legs began to shake beneath her. “Is that who can’t live without you?” The words were angry, unbelieving, and held all the insecurities that were overflowing from her very core.

She was outing herself. Making him completely aware of what she’d done, and the expression on his face shifted in an instant. He ripped a towel from the wall, wrapped it around his waist, and went to the bedroom. “Exactly.”

She closed her eyes, not able to open them until the bathroom door closed behind him, leaving her alone, wrapped in guilt, hurt, and trembling like a leaf.

She opened the door again and followed after him, not sure if it was the look on his face or the sound of his voice that made her believe him, but she did. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, and his back hunched over as though he was in pain.

Her chin began to tremble, but she walked toward him, pressing his head into her belly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what makes me become so insecure around you. I’m so sorry. It’s none of my business—”

He looked up then, cutting her off and making her throat instantly tighten. “My father’s having an affair. Renee doesn’t have a clue, so that’s why I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to put you in a position to have to lie to her, but please don’t tell her.” His voice was hoarse and shredded, as if he was confessing something that brought him great misery.

She pulled in a breath, trying to get hold of her emotions, because she couldn’t bear seeing him like this. Suddenly she understood him. Understood the man who behaved as though he held the world on his shoulders. Because he did. His family’s world. His sister’s world. The people he loved.

She dropped to her knees in front of him and pulled him to her chest. He grabbed hold of her, wrapping his thick arms around her, hugging her, burying his head in her hair like he was desperate to be close to her.

“It was on a Thursday, right after I got off work. I saw him with my own eyes.” He quieted for a moment, as though trying to pull himself together. “The bastard actually tried to tell me it was nothing.”

She gripped him tighter and kissed the top of his head, urging him to continue.

“He’s having an affair with a thirty-year old woman who was supposed to be his secretary. He’s been lying to us for a long time. Mom and Dad have stopped talking, so I’m trying to juggle all communication. They’re going to try and play nice for Renee, until the wedding is over, but Mom’s a fucking mess.” The words rushed out of him, as though he’d been carrying the burden for far too long. “I’ve never seen her like this.” His voice shredding and she pushed his hair repeatedly back from his face.

Her heart was breaking. Not only for him, but for all of them. Because the Montgomerys were solid. Always together. Always strong. “Renee doesn’t know any of this?” she asked quietly.

“No.”

She swallowed hard, knowing this wasn’t a good idea. “She’s going to know the second she sees them. She’ll sense it.”

He only shook his head, gripping the base of his skull between thumb and forefinger. “That’s what I keep telling Mom, but she’s stubborn. She thinks they’ll be fine. I’m just waiting for everything to fall apart.”

He then looked to her face, searching her eyes. For what she wasn’t sure, but the vulnerability she witnessed made her want to give him everything. A moment later he stood, lifting her up from the floor and into his arms. He sat with her again in the chair beside the bed, gently rocking her. “Don’t ever lie to me, Samantha,” he whispered. “Promise me.”

There was something so heartbreaking about him. So sad. Because she could almost see the little boy who lived inside him. The boy who was sorrowful to learn that his father wasn’t the man he’d always idolized. That he’d cheated on Tristan’s mother. Cheated on their family. “I promise,” Samantha whispered back.

There were tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over. He grabbed her face, his fingers wrapping around her neck. He looked like he wanted to say something. To do something, but he wasn’t sure what. She searched his eyes, silently asking him what he needed, because in that moment, she would do anything.

He finally settled his mouth upon hers, hard, rough, and crushing, as though he needed her body to pull him back from his grief. From the sadness inside that was too hard for him to bear. She kissed him, giving him everything she had. All her hope, all her strength, all her love.

He made love to her again, this time with his whole body. He kissed every inch of her, spilled his seed inside her belly, until his entire weight collapsed on top of her. Heavy, strong, beautiful. She wrapped her arms around him and took all of it. Because something between them had shifted. He’d shared a part of himself that he’d never shared with anyone else. He’d shared his secret, his burden, and she grabbed hold of it knowing she’d never let it go.

They fell asleep a moment later, tangled in each other’s arms. Exhausted. Wasted. And everything between them forever altered.