I waited patiently for Annalise to finish her dance with William Davis. Okay, not patiently, but I did wait. Melanie sent me another one of those sidelong looks and murmured, "Young love. I remember how that goes."

I smiled at her, playing the part, but what I was feeling was anything but the horny impatience of young love. It was demanding and a little desperate. William returned Annalise to my side, handing her back to me without meeting my eyes, somehow managing to be both sexist and condescending in one gesture.

Instead of taking her hand, I slid my arm around her shoulders, nodded at Melanie, and turned Annalise to the doorway of the living room, pulling her along with me.

"Where are we going?" she demanded, trying to tug free as discreetly as possible. I was having none of it. I was tired of her distance, tired of her holding herself aloof from me. Her stalker was playing enough games. We didn't need to waste time playing them with each other.

"You can't just drag me from the wedding reception," she hissed as I led her down the hall. There was no way to get back to her suite without crossing through the makeshift ballroom in the front hall. I led her to the opposite corner of the house where I hoped we could get a little privacy in the wine room.

As soon as we were out of sight of most of the guests, Annalise twisted out from under my arm and took a step away. My hand shot out, and I caught her wrist in my fingers. "Stop running from me," I said, keeping my voice low.

"Stop manhandling me."

"I'm not manhandling you. You're my fiancée for fuck’s sake," I said, my voice rising.

Annalise stopped on her heel and whirled to face me. In an angry whisper, she said, "I am not your fiancée. Stop toying with me. I know I deserve it after the way I left you, and I know you're over me, and this is no big deal for you. But it is for me. I don't need you making this harder, okay?"

She choked a little on her words and my stomach got tight. Fuck. Why could I never say the right thing to her? Why couldn't I just be fucking honest?

My feelings for Annalise had always been real. Always. But I'd never given her the truth. Not once. She deserved more than that from me. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something, anything. Maybe everything.

I looked around and realized we were standing in the middle of the hallway. The things I had to say were only for Annalise. Wrapping my arm tightly around her shoulders, ignoring her squirms to get away, I reached for the door to the wine room and swung it open.

Annalise let out a shocked gasp, followed by a laugh as she dropped her forehead to my shoulder and I looked up to see Jacob Winters balls deep in his fiancée Abigail. I couldn't see much of Abigail other than her face, which turned bright red as she let out a screech.

Ignoring Jacob’s growl, I hastily pulled the door shut saying through the thick wood, "You might want to lock that next time."

Annalise was laughing, her cheeks pink as I pulled her through the library to the hidden staircase in the corner. She'd stopped resisting me, distracted by the sight of her cousin and Abigail.

"I know they both mostly had their clothes on but I really wish I hadn't seen that," she said through a giggle. "Why does no one ever lock that door? There’s a deadbolt on the other side. Plus, Jacob has his own room."

"Maybe they couldn't wait," I said in sympathy.

Annalise finally realized I was still dragging her through the house and dug in her heels. "Where are we going?" she demanded.

I pressed the crevice in the mantel to release the secret door, flipped the light switch, and pulled Annalise inside, closing the door behind us. We were encased in shadows, broken only by the orange flickers of light from the wall sconces that lined the staircase as it curled down in a tight spiral.

"I wanted some privacy," I said.

"We're sharing a room. We have enough privacy. I don't think this is a good idea."

"We need to get something straight," I said.

"Fine, what?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

I wasn't going to mention that when she did that it plumped up her perfect breasts, taking her demure neckline and making it ridiculously tempting.

I did my best to ignore her breasts and met her eyes, hot and blue even in the dim light. "Did you mean everything you wrote in that letter, or did you leave because you thought you were keeping me safe?"

"Why does it matter now? It was eleven years ago," she evaded, the anger fading from her eyes as she dropped my gaze and looked away.

"It matters."

"No, I didn't mean any of it. I never would've cheated on you, and I don't care about your background or your family or how much money you have. If I’d told you I was leaving would you have let me go?"

"No fucking way," I said. “Did you send Aiden to talk to me?”

Annalise gave a helpless shrug, her eyes sad. “I had to. I had to make you believe."

“Believe a lie,” I said, old anger thick in my voice. “Believe that the woman I loved threw me away.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said, her eyes fixed on the wall behind my head, swimming with tears.

“You could have trusted me. We could've figured it out together. Instead, we lost a decade."

Annalise pressed her lips together and shook her head. "I'm sorry I lied to you. It was the only thing I could think of. I was panicked. But he tried to kill you two times, Riley. I watched you almost die from an overdose while you were in the hospital, after sitting by your bedside waiting for you to wake up from a car accident that almost killed you. I didn't want there to be a third time."

"Annalise," I said, stopping her. There was no point in digging up the past, and I couldn't explain why I hadn't needed protection. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Everything that came before was history, and I was done with history. I was a lot more interested in our future.

Biting the bullet, I said, "I never got over you. I don't think I ever will. I don't want to pretend with you when it feels real."

Annalise stared at me, dumbfounded, her pink lips parted in surprise. I knew I should wait for her to say something, but I reached up and slid my fingers along her jaw, stroking her soft skin before burying them in her hair and running my thumb along her cheek.

"Tell me this doesn't feel real," I said, drawing her closer. "Tell me you want me to stop, and I will. We'll go back to pretending, and I won't touch you again."

She swayed into me, silent, her eyes scanning my face, studying me. Her voice a husky whisper, she said, "It feels real, but that doesn't mean it is real."

"It is if we want it to be," I said. Curling my fingers around the back of her head I drew her close slowly, a millimeter at a time, giving her plenty of chances to draw back. To stop me. To change her mind.

Her breath feathered across my lips, smelling of caramel. I knew exactly how she would taste—hot and sweet. I wanted to kiss her gently, to seduce her and tease her, but this was the first time we’d kissed when it wasn't a game or a dare. I couldn't hold back.

Her mouth opened for me like a flower in bloom, her tongue meeting mine in lush strokes, her lips so soft. I wrapped my other arm around her waist, bringing her body flush against mine and leaned in, pinning her shoulders to the stone wall in the stairwell.

I'd wanted privacy, but the top of the staircase in the dark wasn't going to cut it. The stone was hard and cold against her bare back, and it was too dark.

I wanted to lay her across her bed in the early evening light to see every inch of her beautiful body. I wanted to watch her come for me over and over. I didn't want a furtive coupling in our clothes. I wanted all of her. I wanted everything I’d craved for eleven years.

In a minute. Mindful of the stairs, I turned us, bracing my back against the stone and pulling her into me, kissing her harder, so hungry for her I needed to own every inch of her mouth. Her hand skimmed my body, under my suit jacket, pressing into my thin dress shirt, the heat of her touch setting me on fire.

I broke the kiss. "Not here," I managed to get out. "Come with me to your room. Will you?"

In answer, she took my hand, said, "This way," and led me down the stairs. I followed, watching the golden gleam of her hair in the flickering lights as we descended the spiral staircase to the lower level of Winters House.

I'd always loved that the staircase felt like it belonged in a castle, but I'd never felt so much like I was in a fairytale, following my princess anywhere she wanted to take me.

Especially if it was to bed.

The door at the bottom of the steps opened into the wide hall that spanned the length of the lower level. Now that we were off the precarious staircase, Annalise moved faster, dragging me down the hall behind her.

Instantly, I understood her plan as we passed beneath the living room, then the entry hall—faint strains of the string quartet filtering through the floor—then beneath the dining room and finally to the wider, brighter staircase on the opposite side of the house.

We jogged up the stairs, a little breathless, laughing as we spilled out into the kitchen, weaving our way through the caterers who started in surprise at seeing two wedding guests appear in their midst. The kitchen opened into the family room, and from there it was just a short stretch down the hall to Annalise's suite.

We made it without running into another guest. When we finally crossed the threshold of her sitting room, I stopped and closed the door behind us, flipping the lock. I had no intention of being interrupted. Not after spending too many nights laying in that big brass bed, burning for Annalise and unable to touch her.

She spun to a stop in the center of her sitting room, her hair flying out around her to match the whirl of her skirts. Reaching up beneath her hair, she began to untie the knot at the back of her neck holding up her dress. The shimmering pink fabric began to sag, sliding down her soft, tanned skin, and my mouth went dry.