January - Four months ago

The happiness radiating out of every single pore of my sister Reagan is a welcome change. I always knew she and her fiancé Noah were meant for each other, it just took them four years to find their way back together.

However, sometimes things don’t work out so well. Fate has a way of crashing through the door uninvited and destroying our plans for the future. I should know. I’m well versed when it comes to fate’s assholish qualities. How else can I explain the guy I’ve been in love with for the past three years sleeping with a close friend of mine. She’s an ex-friend now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she ended up exactly where I imagined I would - as Mrs. Joseph Baldwin. One drunken hook up between them and she’s two months pregnant with his son.

They’ve been married for two weeks and twelve hours, now. I only know, because I can’t seem to fucking forget.

How do you let go of the exact date that your life was over as you knew it?

Once they said their I do’s it was the final gasp of our relationship. We’re dead and things will never be the way they used to.

If only I could bury us.

I know; I deserve better. He’s a lying, cheating dick who wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit him in the ass. He gave me up after all and I pride myself on being the best person I can be. If you Google ‘good girl,’ I’m pretty sure my picture is the first thing that comes up.

Glancing down, I run my hand over the soft material of the pale pink dress I’m wearing. Even the clothes I choose are appropriate. Pink and pearls are two of my favorite things, at least that’s what everyone thinks, and I’ve never done anything to correct their faulty assumptions. How could I when ninety-nine percent of the time I’m wearing both?

What they don’t know, what I won’t even admit to myself is that I’m sick of my good girl image. At this point it’s starting to feel like a persona I’ve adopted to make everyone like me - everyone except me. I can’t stand this sickeningly sweet pink person I’ve become.

Shaking my head, I gulp down some more of the champagne Noah supplied for their surprise engagement party. He asked my sister Reagan to marry him earlier tonight and had us all waiting here to celebrate with them. The two of them haven’t stopped smiling since they arrived. That’s the way love’s supposed to make you feel. It shouldn’t change you for the worse or turn you into a meek bobblehead who only knows how to nod their head in agreement.

When did I become a doormat that Joseph wiped his feet on - and a pink one at that?

It may have started with him, but it’s spilled over into the rest of my life and now I’m the ultimate people pleaser. I please everyone except myself.

It’s exhausting.

I’m tired of being me. I want to be brash and bold, two things I forgot how to be when I met Joseph my senior year of college. Instead, I let him mold me into the perfect little accessory on his arm - the perfect aspiring politician’s wife.

And when push came to shove he ended up sleeping with my friend who’s the exact opposite. She has a list of ex-lovers a mile long and she never wears pink or pearls.

How’s that for irony?

Drinking back the rest of the champagne, I frown at my empty glass. Guess I need a refill. Each one goes down smoother than the last and makes me feel a little better.

“Would you like another?” A deep voice to my left asks as a large tan masculine hand appears in front of me. My head spins around to see who’s speaking and I unsteadily brace myself against the wall behind me. The champagne is affecting my balance or maybe it’s the sight of this stranger’s devastatingly handsome face.

He flashes me a quick grin showing straight white teeth that can only be achieved with braces and a possible dimple in his left cheek. “Would you like some more champagne?” he offers again, holding the glass up in front of me.

My father always told me not to accept drinks from strangers, but there’s something kind about his hazel eyes that has me curling my hand around the thin glass. Our fingers brush when he pulls his hand away. His skin so warm to the touch, shoots a mad flurry of excitement from my stomach to my chest like fireworks being set off in a cloudless night sky.

My eyes sweep up his tall stature, connecting with his. Heated interest flickers in the hazel depths before they lazily glide down to linger on my mouth. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I watch as he continues to study every inch of my face.

What is he thinking?

A heated flush washes over me and I let my gaze wander down to his mouth. His lips are masculine, the bottom one fuller than the top. I wonder what it would be like to kiss him. I’ve never kissed a complete stranger before.

He holds his hand out in front of me. “I’m N…”

“Don’t tell me your name,” I quickly interrupt.

He quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t want to know my name?”

“No.” I grab his large hand. “Come with me,” I order, moving purposefully toward the exit of the room.

“Okay, you don’t need to ask me twice. Do I get to know your name?” he questions.

“Nope, no names; no details at all.” I set the glass down on a table we pass by.

“I’m all for a little mystery. I’ll even volunteer my body up for your exploration in the name of chemistry. It’s always been my favorite subject.” I can hear the teasing in his tone. I’m glad he’s being a good sport about me whisking him away. To say this is out of character for me is a gross trivialization, but what the hell? I deserve some fun.

Glancing back as we exit the room, I don’t notice anyone looking our way. Good. I don’t want witnesses. I pause to get my bearings and figure out where I should bring him.

“Where are we going and what are you planning to do to me?” His voice is deep and husky with a hint of laughter next to my ear as he leans down. When I turn my face, our lips are only inches apart. They’re close enough to feel his warm exhales and smell the mint on his breath.

Fuck it.

I grip his head and smash our mouths together. He lets out a deep hum of surprise when our teeth clash, but recovers quickly. His hands slide into my hair as he takes over, controlling the kiss. His tongue lashes against mine conjuring up images of us naked in bed, his cock thrusting inside me.

Oh god.

I’ve never been overcome by such a need to kiss someone before. This desire is uncontrollable and it’s impossible to restrain myself. Now that I have his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, I know I’ve never experienced anything that can compare.

I want more.

Shamelessly, I rub my breasts against his chest. The thin material of his buttoned shirt doesn’t disguise the rock-hard surface beneath. My hands slide up to explore his thick biceps, nails dig into wide shoulders.

Gripping under my ass, he raises me. Wrapping my legs around lean hips, he groans into my mouth, and presses my back into the cold wall behind me.

We’re in the brightly lit hallway where anyone could witness us grinding against each other, but this kiss is so consuming, I can’t be bothered to care. All I can think of is how incredible his hard cock feels pressing against my clit and how I never want this kiss to end.

His lips leave mine to slide a wet path down my neck as he gently bites the delicate skin below my ear. “Can I know your name, now?” he asks huskily, thrusting his hips into mine.

“No,” I moan. “No names.” My fingers rake through his thick, dark brown hair. It’s softer than it looks and my pussy throbs as I imagine his head between my legs. There’s nothing I want more than to tell him my name and hear it fall from the sexiest lips I’ve ever tasted.

Are all kisses supposed to be this way?

“Then I’m going to call you Candy.”

“Candy?” I question, my voice hoarse. My lids are heavy with passion as my head drops back.

He licks along my collarbone and buries his face in the valley between my breasts. “You look like cotton candy in this dress.” The warmth of his tongue bathes the top curves of my breasts. “You taste sweet like it too,” he murmurs against my skin.

The sharp crack of a door slamming in the distance has his head raising. My legs unwrap from his hips and he places me down. Stepping back, he runs a hand through his rumpled hair while I adjust my dress.

We both quickly glance as someone enters the far end of the hallway and then our guilt coated eyes meet. It’s only one of the employees from the catering company Noah hired, but it’s enough to break the sensual spell between us. Reality has come crashing back in full force and I’m horrified at my actions. I just made out with a total stranger and let him dry hump me against a wall. His face was buried in my boobs and I didn’t tell him my name.

I didn’t want to know his.

I still don’t.

My hand trembles, before coasting over my brow. I just want to get the hell out of here and forget this happened. I can always blame it on the champagne.

“I have to go,” I blurt out. Unsteadily scurrying down the long tiled hallway toward the exit on my high heels, each step I take taps out like a message in Morse Code on a telegraph.

“Wait,” he shouts, but I keep moving. “Candy, where are you going?”

I don’t answer him or look back. I hurry around the corner and find a ladies restroom I can disappear inside. Once the door thumps closed behind me, I sigh with relief. Moving over to the sink, I stare at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are pinker than I’ve ever seen them, a combination of passion and embarrassment. My hair was neat and orderly at the beginning of the party, but now it’s a long, light brown mess from the sexy stranger’s fingers. I don’t even look like myself. My pink dress is askew, the edge of my white lace bra exposed. Skimming over my hair with both hands helps to restore some order. Adjusting my dress, I make sure all my parts are covered.

Glancing down at the diamond encrusted platinum Rolex Joseph bought me almost two years ago for my twenty-fourth birthday, I realize it’s too early for me to leave. I don’t want to disappoint Reagan. Sighing, I resign myself to returning to the party room and retrace my steps. I’ll have to ignore the handsome stranger for the rest of the night. Drawing a deep breath, my hand closes around the doorknob; here goes nothing.

Once inside, my eyes cautiously scan the space, seeking out his tall form. I’m disappointed he’s not anywhere to be seen, but I know it’s for the best. It’s not like anything could ever come of it.

Spontaneously kissing one stranger doesn’t change anything. I’m still me; Joseph’s ex-girlfriend. The girl who’s forgotten how to be anything else.