It didn’t take long before everyone was grabbing a partner and heading for the dance floor. There were different couples, some conservative, some not, yet it didn’t take long before the scene that unfolded in front of them looked like it could have come out of a Vegas nightclub. Deciding she didn’t really care about prizes, Samantha turned to leave, but then she felt a hand rest on her lower back.

Mark stood just behind her, his lips close to her ear as he spoke to her. “What do you say—want to make him jealous?”

She laughed, because this was a horrible idea. She wasn’t a dancer, and she wasn’t about to start now.

But then Devon came to stand beside her and draped his arm around her shoulder. “Who are we making jealous?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked over the dance floor.

Her eyes shifted downward, then she looked over at Mark. He caught her eye and winked to let her know it would be okay, then handed her a shot glass filled with some sort of brown liquid.

“Drink,” he said to Samantha. Then he turned to Devon and lifted his chin. “It seems,” Mark began, taking her glass that was now empty, “that Samantha has an admirer—but he’s too much of a pussy to come over here and get her. So we’ll have to draw him out.”

Devon choked on his bottle of Corona and glanced around the dance floor. “Who?”

Mark waved him off. “Doesn’t matter, Devon. What matters is that we make Samantha look like the most delicious morsel in the room.” He took Samantha’s arm, handed Devin her clutch, and bowed to her. “May I have this dance?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” But then she saw Tristan already out there, dancing with the redheaded hussy she’d seen him with earlier. The ginger turned to face him, her legs long and elegant as she walked around him, trailing her finger along his body.

Mark pushed her toward the dance floor, then pulled her around and gripped her fingers firmly in one hand. “Change your mind?”

Her lips curled in a playful grin and she nodded. “Do your worst.”

As though her invitation flipped on a switch, Mark grinned and starting dancing like a Latin lover. He lifted her up at the arms—just high enough where her breasts almost hit his chin. He grinned. “Good girl.” Then he gripped the backs of her thighs, adding enough pressure to urge them to spread. Her eyes widened, but he lifted again, causing her legs to straddle his waist. “Lean back,” he whispered.

She did as he said, and he used her body to form a soft sweeping motion across the floor, causing her long hair to dust the ground. The people around them squealed with approval, and he pulled her up again. “I think we got his attention.” But then he placed her on her feet again and whipped her out in a turn.

Tristan was right there watching her, staring at Mark before raking his eyes over Samantha. But he wasn’t angry like she feared; he was actually grinning. She bit her lip, her stomach tightening with deliciousness, because the look on his face told her he knew exactly what game she was playing, and she was pretty sure she’d just started a war.

Tristan placed his hand on the small of the redhead’s back and lifted her thigh to hook it on the top of his hip.

Mark turned her back in to his chest, and soon her body was pressed against his again.

“Looks like we have a challenger,” he said, placing both of her hands around his neck and gripping her hips to move them to the rhythm. She took his lead, moving when he told her to, letting her body sway with each beat, each pulse, and soon they were dancing as one. Hips together, hands laced.

The music changed a second later, and the DJ’s voice sounded from the loud speakers. “Now switch!”

Samantha spun around, looking for her next partner, and right there behind her was Devon. He grabbed hold of her hand and spun her into his chest. “I don’t know who this other guy is, but I still owe you for the dirt incident.” He grinned.

She giggled, partly because she was having so much fun, but partly because the alcohol was starting to affect her beyond her own control. She took hold of Devon’s hand and turned herself around again. Wiggling her bottom against Devon’s thighs, she glanced over at Tristan.

He had the blond he’d been talking to earlier, but he was barely paying her any attention. His eyes were focused on Samantha, eating her up with every move. She grinned again, then turned around and hooked her leg up to the top of Devon’s hip. He caught it with his hand, lifting her up to drag her foot along the floor. She had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky, but her two dance partners could have easily been finalists on Dancing with the Stars.

Soon the music changed again, she was spun out into the crowd, and her hand was yanked back behind her. She was pulled into a dark alcove over by the stairwell.

Tristan’s head was close to her neck, his voice low and textured. “If we don’t leave soon, there’s going to be a fight,” he promised.

She tilted her head back, allowing him better access to her throat. “Oh yeah?” she whispered. “With who?”

He laughed, because although he was partly serious, this was a game and they both knew it. “Whoever touches you next.” He pulled back a little, just enough to look at her eyes. She palmed the side of his face, her legs already shaking. Because it wasn’t a look of playfulness and lust that stared back at her. It was one of passion, of a need so great it ripped her heart right out of her chest—it was one of admiration, and she wanted to be looked at like that for all eternity.

She pulled in a deep breath, not wanting this dance to end. “Take me to your room,” she whispered.

“As you wish.”

* * *

Tristan left the party ahead of her, placing a keycard in her palm before walking away. After gathering her bag and belongings from the cocktail table, she nodded to Mark, letting him know they’d won, and began making her way to the elevator. She thought about making up an excuse for Renee, but her best friend was wrapped in her fiancé’s arms, and Samantha knew she wouldn’t be missed. She slipped out of the party without anyone noticing and pressed the button for the tenth floor.

Tristan’s room was at the end of the hall, and she opened the door without even knocking. An ache was already coursing low in her belly, and her pulse quickened as she looked into the pitch-black room.

“Tristan?” she whispered, taking two steps into the dark room before his arms wrapped around her belly.

“Grrrrr…” He growled low in her ear, lifting her off her feet and making her feel lighter than air.

Her body instinctively tensed, but she melted against him, because she didn’t have a choice… When it came to Tristan, she was like water—fluid, movable, completely translucent.

He whipped her around, grabbed hold of her ass and lifted her higher. He forced her legs apart and positioned them on either side of his waist. “You’ve had a little bit to drink,” he said, walking with her over to the bed.

She grinned, taking his face between her hands so she could look at him better. “I’ve had a lot to drink. What are you going to do about it?”

He only stared at her as though there was something he wanted to say, but then he placed her to her feet and turned her to face the wall. “How do we get this off you?”

She giggled, pulling the straps down her shoulders in one motion. She turned to face him, the romper only hanging at her hips, the pasties in the shape of roses the only things covering her breasts.

His eyes raked over them, taking in every inch, every curve, and he dipped down, until he lifted her in his arms and cradled her against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding, see him visibly struggling to breathe. He laid her down on the middle of the mattress, and followed right behind her until he was nestled between her thighs.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice hoarse and barely audible. Only his lips and eyes transferred the message. But it was clear. She was his. No one else’s. And he was going to make sure she never wanted her legs wrapped around another man again.

* * *

The next morning she awoke with an ache between her thighs and her head nestled by Tristan’s throat. He was still sleeping, and she gazed up at him, remembering every delicious detail of their lovemaking. The room was cast in the golden glow of morning, and although he had morning stubble on his face, he still looked incredibly vulnerable. Almost like a little boy.

Her heart pinched, and she rolled to the side of the bed. For some reason whenever she looked at him she thought about bigger things, deeper things. Like forevers, like children, and mixed DNA. But last night had been magical. More than arms and limbs and passion. It was about needing one another, trusting and cherishing. She’d never experienced anything like it before in her life.

She took a deep breath and pushed off the side of the bed. Because even though she wanted to spend all morning doing it all over again, that wasn’t a possibility. She stretched her arms overhead and pulled in a deep breath. This morning was another story and she needed to get back to her room before anyone noticed.

She picked up her bag off the floor, took one last glance at the man who consumed her body, mind and soul, then walked to the bathroom. Deciding there was a two hours yet before she had to worry about anyone trying to find her, she turned on the shower and stepped in before it had a chance to warm. After washing her hair, she combed out all the tangles as best she could with her fingers, then wrapped herself in a towel and headed back to the bedroom. The moment she opened the door, she immediately froze. Her face drained of all color as Renee stared back at her.

Her best friend’s face was puffy and streaked with tears, yet she didn’t say a word. She just stood there, silently blinking as Samantha tried to come up with an excuse as to why she was coming out of Tristan’s bathroom. But there was none. Because whatever this was, it was out in the open now. There was no hiding it, no wishing it away, no backing up and hoping for a do-over.

Renee had found her in her brother’s room, and the expression on her face was one of complete betrayal. Renee closed her eyes, shutting everyone out as she tightened her fists at her sides. Samantha could only look at her, her friend’s veins visibly pulsing at every pressure point.

Renee parted her lips, and mouthed the word. “Why?”

Samantha covered her lips, shaking her head as she took a step forward.

But Renee only retreated, gasping in gulps of air that sounded like sobs. “How could you do this?” she asked. “How could you do this?”

Then she ran from the room, leaving the door open, and Samantha fell to her knees in the middle of the doorway. She looked over at Tristan, who was sitting on the side of the bed, his body only covered by the sweats she was sure he’d put on to answer the door.

“Why was she here?” she whispered. “Did Mark tell—”

But he shook his head, cutting her off before she could finish. “Mom showed up this morning… Dad wasn’t with her.”

Tears stung behind Samantha’s eyes and capped her hand over her mouth. “No. No no no.” Because after finding her mother… “She came here,” she whispered, choking on the words. “And she found us.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a fact. Because her friend who thought about everyone else before she thought about herself, had just found out that her father had been cheating on her mother. And when she’d come to talk to her brother about it, found her best friend practically naked in his room.

“I should go after her,” Samantha whispered. “Explain.”

Tristan only pushed his hand through his hair and shook his head. “Give her a minute.”

Her throat was so tight she could barely breathe, but she nodded her head. He was right. Renee would need time after something like this. She would need time, and Samantha needed to be strong enough to give it to her. “We shouldn’t have been so reckless. I shouldn’t have—”

But Tristan rose to his feet. He stopped in front of her, pulled her to stand, and wrapped his arms around her body. She pressed her face into his chest and held onto him. She swallowed hard, fighting back tears that threatened to choke her “You were right. I should have told her.”

But he remained silent. Not saying he told her so, not yelling like she knew she would have done, had the roles been reversed.

“My mom is down in the lobby,” he said after a pause. “She’s a mess.” His eyes met hers again, and she could see the wounded boy she met all those days ago when he told her about his father. The boy who was protective, hurt, and so vulnerable. “Will you be okay without me?”

Samantha almost sobbed, but stepped away, already feeling guilty for keeping him this long. “Go. I’ll catch up with you at the rehearsal.”

He traced the rim of her lips with his finger, then leaned in close. His mouth hovered over hers, but didn’t kiss. “It will be okay,” he finally whispered, but they were words not meant for her. They were words meant for himself.

She grabbed hold of his neck, and kissed him with all her strength. As though wanting to heal all his wounds, wanting to take away his pain—but she knew she couldn’t. This was something she couldn’t take away, and she could only love him through it.

He took her hands from behind his neck as he broke their kiss, then paused for a minute before he walked into the bathroom to shower. She waited for the shower to run, then gathered the rest of her things and slipped out to the hall in the romper she’d worn the night before.

“Do not disturb” signs graced almost every door as she made her way back to her room. Trays with silver domes were left outside almost every door, waiting to be picked up—and although the same blue sign hung on her best friend’s door, she couldn’t keep herself from knocking. Her fingers rested on the hard surface, waiting for the answer, but one never came. She dropped her forehead down to the surface, feeling a knot form in her stomach. Because she needed her friend to know the truth. She needed her to know that Tristan wasn’t just a fling to her. He was the man she’d been waiting for her entire life.

And she was falling in love with him.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon went by without a word from either Tristan or Renee. She knew they were busy, but having not talked to anyone left her with a million butterflies swarming inside her stomach and chest. She opened the door to the ballroom, where everyone was already waiting inside, standing around, chatting, and sitting in chairs that tomorrow would be filled with the audience. Because in less than twenty-four hours, her best friend would be a bride.

Samantha glanced around the room, finding Mark, Devon, and the rest of the wedding party flanking the side of the wooden arbor. She walked toward them, wanting to take her place at the head of the bridal party, but noticed they all had weird looks on their faces.

She turned around and found Tristan in the corner of the room, his ear to his phone, not looking happy. She swallowed apprehensively, noticing Mrs. Montgomery sitting in one of the seats, crying. Renee was by her side, and she instantly realized Mr. Montgomery still wasn’t there.

The wedding coordinator was standing at the top of the stairs by the arbor, and immediately urged Samantha forward. The woman positioned Samantha at the top of the line and adjusted her shoulders out toward the audience before looking over at Mark and Devon. “What’s going on?” the woman mouthed, but they both shook their heads as though not knowing at all what to say.

Samantha’s heart pinched in her chest, both tense and breaking at the same time. How could Mr. Montgomery not be here? How could he leave his family like this? His daughter?

The door to the ballroom opened, and everyone turned around, hopeful sighs released from their lips.

Samantha glanced up, saying a silent prayer that it was Mr. Montgomery, only to find Steven standing in the doorway. He made a face as though apologizing for interrupting, then walked into the room, wearing the pinstriped blue suit she’d picked out with him before he had interviewed with Connor and Associates.

The walls seemed to close in around her all at once, and she looked over at Tristan. He was still deep in conversation and hadn’t noticed Steven yet.

Steven continued toward her, seemingly clueless about the tension in the room as he walked up the steps. “Surprise!” he whispered, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Samantha stepped backward, almost crashing into one of the other bridesmaids. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, but all the blood had left her body, and she thought she might faint. She glanced around the room to Mark, Renee, and Tristan, and discovered all their eyes were on her.

Steven moved in closer, narrowing his gaze just bit as he looked into her eyes “I left work for you. I thought you’d be happy.”

She shook her head, her throat so tight it was almost suffocating. “Didn’t you get my text?”

His eyes narrowed and he adjusted his stance. “What text?” he whispered back.

Tristan swore under his breath, but before she could turn around, he was already walking out of the room. Her heart constricted with pain and guilt, but she turned back to Steven.

Everyone was watching. Renee’s family, friends, Phin. But there was so much confusion in Steven’s eyes, so much hurt and pain that Samantha knew she was causing. She blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. Her mind flashed back to the moment he told her he wasn’t coming. To her sending the text. She had sent it right there in front of Tristan—and then she had fallen into the pool.

She covered her mouth, realizing what must’ve happened. The text didn’t go through before her phone had died. Steven had no idea she’d broken up with him.

Tears gathered behind her eyes, burning her nose and throat. Steven may not be perfect, and not be the most considerate at times, but he’d been one of her best friends for most of her life.

“Can I talk to you privately?” she whispered, barely able to keep her voice from quivering to get out the words.

She walked down the steps, hearing whispers of disapproval as she exited the ballroom, but she had to do this. He had to be told what was going on. She found a private alcove in the garden ten yards away, where she sat down on a bench and waited for Steven to join her.

He sat down a moment later, an element of confusion causing the corners of his eyes to wrinkle. She swallowed, seeing all over again the twelve-year-old boy who had opened the door for her every day of sixth grade. But now his face was pale where normally golden, his eyes lifeless where normally smiling. She took his hands between hers and closed her eyes.

“Steven—” She choked. Because she knew she was about to hurt him. She knew she was about to hurt him so much.

He got down to his knees in front of her, causing her stomach to clench and her eyes to open. “What is it, Sam? What happened?”

She shook her head, her lashes heavy with tears. “I broke up with you, Steven. I broke up with you three days ago.”

“I don’t understand. Sam—”

“I sent you a text. I thought you knew. But I dropped my phone in the water, and the message must have not gone through. I thought—”

He pulled in a breath, and licked his lips as he searched her face. “Because of the job? Is that why?”

“No.” She cut him off, needing to stop any further speculation. “This isn’t working, Steven. It hasn’t been working for a long time.” The truth was heartbreaking, something she should have said years ago, but she’d been too much of a coward. “We’ve been friends for so long, the best of friends…” She expected him to protest, to try to stop her, but he only looked at her, his face pained but no longer confused.

“I know,” he whispered.

She choked on a sob, muffling the sound with her hand. Because in all of her life, she would never have expected this response. In all her dreams, she should have never expected him to understand.

He closed his eyes, visibly snuffing out his own emotion. “Expecting you to follow me in my career was like caging a wild bird.” He opened his eyes and looked directly into hers, as though seeing her for the first time. “I couldn’t bear to let you go, and that was selfish. Keeping you by my side was what I always wanted, but that doesn’t mean it was right.”

Her nose began to burn, but she let the tears come. Because a long time ago, her mother had told her never to apologize for being emotional. To never feel weak because of shed tear, because showing your heart was a sign of strength. For the first time, she wasn’t ashamed of them. For the first time she knew exactly what her mother meant.

A couple of people were standing outside now, gawking at them in a way that made her feel protective. She adjusted her back, blocking their view of Steven, and took his hands. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve never broken up with you in such a careless way. I should have—”

But he shook his head, stopping her. “Don’t.”

Tears were flowing from her eyes, and she brushed them away with her fingers. For all his faults, there was so much good in him. He just wasn’t want she needed. “I’ve always loved you; I need you to know that. Just not in the way you wanted me to.”

He sat down beside her again, leaning against her, offering his shoulder for her to cry on. “I think I’ve always known that. I hoped it would be different, but…” His words trailed off, and they both sat in silence for a minute before he continued. “I held on too long, even when I knew we were both going in different directions. My only hope is that it’s not too late to be friends.”

She turned into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Of course we can. Always.”

They stayed there, just like that, for a good twenty minutes. With his arm wrapped around her, them both mourning the end of their relationship, before he finally called a Taxi to head back to the airport. Because even though they were not each other’s future, they were each other’s past. A past filled with memories, laughter, and friendship. And that was hard to let go of, for anyone.