“We’re at the wedding of two people I adore, so I will be civil for about ten more seconds, but you had better believe that—”
“What about friendship? Can we just try that? No funny business, I swear.”
I felt so stiff, and I knew hostility was radiating off me in waves.
Frankie caught my eye, her arm around her girl. This was a wedding, a joyous occasion, and her concerned look swayed me. She was worried I’d cause a scene, and it hurt me that she was right to be worried.
I’m more mature than this, I told myself. And hell, why couldn’t we be friends? I didn’t think he was attracted to me anymore. I knew that what he wanted really was just friendship and forgiveness, so why couldn’t I just give that to him? Why did I feel the need to shut him out completely?
I knew the answer. I was like a wounded animal, lashing out at his indifference, which had become the cause of my pain.
“No funny business?” I asked, then spoke again before he could answer. “I actually believe that now. I didn’t figure you were into cripples.”
His hand dropped limply from my knee.
I got a look at his face, right before his gaze dropped down to the table, and instantly regretted saying something so ugly.
Whatever his feelings for me had turned into, I still had the power to wound him deeply.
“I’m sorry,” I told him quickly.
I opened my mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a furious looking Frankie.
She sat on Tristan’s other side, giving me a hostile look that I’d never have figured she’d direct at me.
“You okay?” she asked Tristan, her hand going to his arm.
He nodded shortly, stood up, and strode away.
“When are you going to stop hurting him? When is it going to be enough for you? You wanted him punished; he’s been through hell. What more do you want?”
Part of me was livid about every word that came out of her mouth, but another part, the part that wouldn’t shut up today, knew she had a point. I had been punishing him; for six years I’d been punishing him, and it had gotten out of hand.
She stood, and I knew that it was to go after him, to make sure he was okay.
I stopped her with a grip on her hand. “I’ve got this,” I told her, standing. “You’ve got some best man duties to attend to.”
“Please, Danika. You don’t have to take him back, but please, just be kind to him. He’s been through enough. You both have. You’re hurting yourself with this bullshit, too, you know?”
I knew it. I let my eyes show her that as I nodded.
I found him walking aimlessly through the woods, somewhere between the wedding tents and the fortress of a building that James called a ‘house.’
“Tristan,” I called out loudly.
He froze. He didn’t turn around, just stopped.
I caught up to him quickly, grabbing his arm.
“I’m sorry I said that. It was an ugly thing to say, and I didn’t even mean it. You know how I am. I can never seem to keep things to myself, and sometimes they come out worse than I mean them.”
“You’ve been pretty good at keeping things to yourself for a very long time.”
My eyebrows shot straight up. He had a point. I had gotten better at holding my tongue, but I couldn’t quite decipher what his tone meant.
“That’s true. I’ve grown up. But what I said back there wasn’t grown up, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t have a grudge against you. I really have gotten over our…history together, and I think you’re right. There’s no reason that we can’t be friends again.”
“Thank you.” His voice was low and hoarse, his head tilted forward. Even in the semi-darkness, I could see that his eyes stayed on the ground.
There was something so defeated in his stance, something so hopeless in his voice that I couldn’t seem to help myself, I hugged him. For comfort, for support. Whether it was for him or me or both of us, I didn’t dare contemplate.
I had to stand up on my tiptoes to get my arms around his neck, and that was with him slouched down.
He was stiff as a corpse for about ten seconds before he reacted, his arms squeezing me so hard that I let out a grunt as all of the air was pushed out of me.
He eased up, and I took a few breaths before relaxing into him.
My body seemed to take over, because touching him brought back so many sensory memories. We were a train wreck, he and I, but something about touching him had always just felt right to me.
I pressed into him, my face still buried in his neck.
He pulled back slightly, and I looked up at him. I couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but I knew he was looking down at me.
“Tristan,” I uttered softly.
He lowered his head until his mouth was a breath away from mine, and even then, I didn’t think he could possibly be going there.
“Tristan.”
He moved his hands to cup my face, and at the corner of my vision, I could see that that they were trembling.
He tilted my head one way, slanted his head the other, and brought our lips together.
He kissed me.
A desperate, hungry, wild, make me forget the past and the future kind of kiss.
Most of my life was spent displaying a cool reserve to the world, my self-control assured and seemingly effortless. One brief kiss and the years dissolved; the past and the present merging into one singular thought that existed right now. And right now, all that mattered was this connection, this sensation that began at our joined lips and traveled down my body, igniting every last molecule of my being into a wildfire of sensation.
I snapped.
My hands clawed at his shoulders, my mouth ravenous on his. I’d always considered myself a good kisser, and I knew for a fact that Tristan was one, but there was no finesse in this. We simply took, and took, and gave in the form of clashing teeth and warring tongues.
His hands moved to my hips, lifting me high against his body. I’d longed for this body, this exact shape, every bend, bulge, and curve of him all that my body needed. My legs wrapped around his waist, animalistic whimpers escaping my throat as his erection pushed hard against my belly and after I’d shifted just right, straight into my clit.
I knew he was walking, carrying me, but I didn’t care, just sucking at his tongue, biting his lip until I tasted blood. The sky could have fallen around our heads and I wouldn’t have cared. I wasn’t letting go of this; this mindless moment where everything felt like it had shifted back into place and all of the wrongs were right again.
He tried to set me down, but I wouldn’t let him, my legs a vise around his hips, my arms locked around his shoulders. He pulled his head back, and I bit his neck, rubbing my torso into his.
“Please,” he whispered hoarsely.
That one small request had me pulling back just far enough to look at him. A bright lantern light shone down at us, and I took in our surroundings.
We were on the back porch of the ranch house, and Tristan was pushing my hips away from his, setting me on the thick rail that ran the length of the patio. Confused and disoriented, I let him.
I swallowed hard, opening my mouth to say God only knows what when his hands shot to the hem of my lavender bridesmaid dress, yanking it up over my hips.
That effectively squelched my urge to try to speak.
We were rushing headlong into this lunacy, and I could worry about the mess we made later.
I wanted this, needed this like I hadn’t needed anything since I’d cauterized all of the joy from my life.
He pulled the dress straight up, flipping it all the way over my head until my arms were effectively restrained. I didn’t know, or care, if that had been his intent.
He unsnapped the front clasp of my bra, moaning and bending down to suck one quivering globe into his mouth. His hands fumbled with his belt and fly. He groaned, and I gasped as his freed erection sprang into my stomach.
Big fingers shoved my panties t
o the side, and the tip of him was pushing into me as he raised his head and took my mouth again. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask if I was sure I wanted to do this.
I was relieved, because a crash this brutal could handle no brakes at all.
He reared back, then drove forward, burying his cock in me with one hard stroke.
The world stopped as we took what we needed, what I’d been starved for since the very last time I’d been in his arms.
It was a frenzied mating, a swift coming together that took me to the fever pitch of ecstasy with a few rough, heavy strokes, over too soon, the perfect testament to our torrid love affair.
We didn’t move for a very long time after we finished, and more importantly, we didn’t speak. Words would break the spell. Words were reality. This was a stolen moment, and I wanted to keep it as safe from reality as possible.
My forehead had fallen to his shoulder at some point, and what felt like his cheek was pressed to the top of my head. He didn’t pull out, the only movement between us the aftereffects of his member still twitching deep inside of me.
We stayed like that for what could have been minutes or an hour. I had no idea what he could be thinking, and I was trying hard not to think about anything but the moment at hand, and the pleasure of being in his arms for this tiny foray of ours into utter lunacy.
It was the first impulsive thing I’d done in years, and boy was it a doozy.
“Danika,” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse but soft.
I sighed heavily, pulling back. The spell was broken.
I couldn’t look him in the eye and looking down was a no go, so I looked over his shoulder as I spoke. “Can you put my dress back on? We need to get back. We’re both in the wedding party, so I’m sure we’ll be missed.”
His hands moved to start righting my gown and still he didn’t pull out. I would have tried to shift away, but I was afraid it would just lead to another indiscretion.
“Danika,” he said again, his voice very soft and very sad.
God, it was flooring how just listening to that deep voice of his could captivate me. For just the sound of his voice alone, I could have stayed glued to that spot indefinitely.
I shook the thought off, calling myself a fool.
“I need a minute alone, if you don’t mind. I’m going to go clean up.”
He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head away. “My dress, please.” My voice wasn’t sharp, in fact, it was gentle, but I saw him flinch out of the corner of my eye.
How did he always do that? Make me want to take back whatever I’d said that may have hurt him, even after all this time.
Reason number one thousand why I needed to stay away from him.
We both gasped in a harsh breath as he dragged himself out of me. I clenched at him involuntarily as he pulled, and that seemed to drag it out, into an act of pure torture. His girth assured that he hit every nerve ending on his way out.
I cursed.
He pulled my dress back up onto my arms, then over my head, then my shoulders. His hands were gently caressing as he eased every inch of it back in place.
I didn’t look at him.
He still had his hips close, still between my thighs, even as he smoothed my dress over my back.
I felt him nudge back against my sex, seeking entrance again.
I don’t know how, but I managed to shake my head. We would not be going for another round, addictive as it might be.
I had to get off the crazy train now, not go for another loop.
I needed just a moment, to go be by myself and think. The sooner the better.
He stepped back and helped me down. He let me go to tuck himself back into his pants, and I fled into the house.
The place had a ton of bathrooms set throughout the sprawling mansion, but I went up to my appointed guest suite and used my private bath to clean up, then combed my hair, and touched up my makeup.
I stared at my dazed expression for a solid five minutes, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
Was this some new sickness, or had the old one persisted, in spite of everything?
Or was this the result of mishandling the situation altogether?
How were we back to square one six years later, within just a few conversations?
Had that happened because we’d never learned to cope with sharing the same space? Had never having any contact at all just made us more susceptible to a screw up of epic proportions?
Had we only made ourselves more sensitive to the other’s presence, when what we’d needed was to be desensitized?
Was it just possible that there was some middle ground here? Some sort of closure to the romantic part of our relationship that I’d never pursued?
I had always thought of Tristan in terms of all or nothing, but clearly, that hadn’t worked. That failure was currently staring me in the face, and perhaps more mortifying, dripping down my leg.
I could admit that cutting someone that had become such an undeniably significant part of me so completely out of my life had been damaging to me.
It had stunted me. Stunted my happiness. Stunted my growth.
That was a fact I’d accepted long ago, in a resigned sort of way, seeing it as a necessary evil.
But what if it wasn’t necessary? What if it was only detrimental?
Spending some rare time in his company made me realize something new.
I’d been so focused on the bad of him, of us, the bad of all that had happened that I’d forgotten the good.
I’d lived the bad, existed with it every waking hour of every day and some nights, in my dreams, as well.
Why shouldn’t I get a bit of the good?
What if, just maybe, I needed it?
What if it would help me close that chapter of my life?
Being with him was out of the question. A long-term romantic relationship was absolutely unthinkable. But a friendship? Hadn’t I moved on enough to at least give myself that small bit of comfort?
Didn’t I deserve it?
I was expecting it. I wasn’t even a little bit surprised when Frankie made a point of cornering me.
She and I weren’t the type of friends that fought. We gave each other shit on a regular basis, but that little scene earlier was as good as a full-on confrontation for us.
I’d known she was going to feel bad about it and quickly try to make it better.
The reception was still in full swing when I returned to the party. I’d have been surprised if it didn’t go until morning.
I made my way quietly to my table, very acutely aware of the fact that, though I’d cleaned up as well as I could in a hurry, I hadn’t showered. I was planning to slip away and do that just as soon as I thought it was politely possible.
Frankie joined within a minute of me sitting down. She was alone. Almost everyone else from the wedding party was dancing. Estella was currently going to town as the dancing meat in a Stephan and Javier sandwich.
“You remember that I set you two up, right?” I asked her as I met her very serious eyes. “You owe me. I brought that hot thing into your life.”
She shot her longtime girlfriend a fond glance. “I know it.” Her face crumpled slightly, not a breakdown, not tears, just screwed up a bit, as though she were in pain. She looked away. “You know I love you, right?”
It was my turn to look away. We were close friends, but not the mushy kind. Things like this were rarely said between us. “I do. I love you too. You’re one of my closest friends, and I know that your heart is always in the right place.”
“Forgive me?” Her voice had gotten very, very quiet. “I overstepped back there. I know it. It’s just so hard for me to see him suffer any more, and no one can hurt him like you can. But I overreacted. I was a dick, and I’m sorry.”
“Frankie, I’m well aware of the position we’ve put you in, and how hard it’s been for you, but you’ve got to stop interfering, and you’ve got to stop thinking it’s your job to protect him or even me.
We are adults, and we don’t need a buffer, much as I might like one, may even have depended on it in the past. He and I…we need to sort our messes out ourselves.”
“Of course. And for the record, I never took his side. Or yours. You know I’m always just trying to help whichever one of you is hurting the most.”
“I know. We’re both lucky to have you.”
I considered the matter settled, and apparently so did she as she didn’t mention it again. We sat there for a long time, just watching the revelry.
There were a lot of people in the colossal reception tent, but I could still tell that there was no sign of Tristan. He hadn’t returned yet, and I found that odd. I was sure he’d gone and cleaned up, but he couldn’t possibly need more time than I had, even if he’d taken the time to get in an actual shower, and to change.
I was so involved with this thought process that it took me a moment to realize who else was so glaringly missing. “Did James and Bianca ditch out on the rest of their own reception, already?”
Frankie laughed. “I would bet a lot of money that they’re off in the forest somewhere having a quickie. James is a kinky fuck, but they’ll be back.”
We continued to watch the dancing crowd. “Who is that Marnie and Judith are assaulting on the dance floor?”
Frankie squinted, then started laughing. “That’s Jackie’s dad. Marnie is making it clap for him. I think Jackie was right. They’re going to give that poor man a heart attack. And get a load of Lana and Akira. They’re making out like teenagers. God, that guy is huge.”
“He’s hot,” I added.
“So is Lana. And this is the first time I’ve met her brother, Camden, but he’s smokin’. This tent is chock-full of hot people.”
“True. Some good dancers too.”
Finally, I saw Tristan re-enter the tent. He stopped at the entrance, scanned the crowd, and zeroed in on me. The second his eyes touched on me, he started striding towards our table.
“Did you two, uh, work out whatever that was you two were having? Was it a fight?”
I couldn’t quite hide my wince. “Yeah, I guess we worked it out.”
“So you finally had a good talk? You both disappeared for a while.”