I’m already shoving my way past him, but not without a backward slap against his chest and a low warning. “Don’t.”
I cross the room toward her. She hasn’t seen me yet—she’s scanning the crowd, uncertain, looking for a familiar face. Then her eyes land on mine and her lips pull into a grin, and my pace picks up, needing to get to her faster. As if it hadn’t been merely half an hour since I’d seen her last.
The closer I get, the more of her I can take in. The dress is sheer pink, rhinestones catching the light as she moves, fitted like it was made specifically for her. Hugging her gratuitous curves, she looks ethereal, and I stumble into a chair before I reach her.
The second she’s close enough, I get my hands on her waist and pull her in.
“This dress is un-fucking-real,” I say against her temple, trying to make my hands behave.
She nudges my chest. “So much for subtle.”
“Subtle? Did we agree to subtle? If so, I take it back. I can’t do subtle with you in this dress.”
She huffs self-consciously. “I thought we were keeping our little tête-à-tête to ourselves,” she says through a fixed smile, eyes cutting sideways.
But fighting is what we do.
“I changed my mind. I need my hand on you at all times. Preferably on that ass.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You are. Now come on, let me get you a drink. I want you to…” I almost say meet my friends, but she knows them all. The full weight of that complication lands awkwardly, but I don’t dwell in it. “Come hang with everyone.”
“I’ve been looking for Pearl, actually. The front desk said she was up in the honeymoon suite with Jo, but no one answered when I went up.”
“She’s probably getting ready. I’ll text her.” I give her hand a tug. “Come on.”
She doesn’t move. “I don’t know, Logan.”
“Do you trust me?”
Her eyes come up to mine. In this light, the chestnut color nearly glows, and against the pale pink of her dress, her skin is radiant. Her brows pull together. Then, slowly, she nods.
It’s not a ringing endorsement, but I’ll take it. I pull her along, and she follows for a few steps before she stops and tugs back. I turn.
“What is it?”
“What are we doing, Logan?”
“How many times are you going to ask me that this week?”
“You keep changing the rules on me.”
I let go of her hand and cradle her face, leaning down to kiss her. She tastes like mint gloss and something distinctly Rose. Cinnamon and clove. When I pull back, I keep her close, because the restaurant is filling up around us. “I keep changing the rules because what I said before wasn’t enough. Having you in pieces isn’t enough.”
“You’re saying all this here? Now?”
“Yes,” I reply, unapologetic.
“It’s barely been an hour since we agreed this was just vacation sex.” Her voice drops. “If your friends know we’re sleeping together, that complicates the no-strings thing we agreed on.”
I hesitate long enough for her to pull away, but in that split second, something cracks inside me. I can feel it. Her leaving, now or later, doesn’t matter. I don’t like any of it. She chews on her lower lip, eyes growing weary, like she’s bracing herself. Her nerves are palpable, she thinks I’m going to fuck this up. Her whole life, her sister has messed with her head, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of it.
She doesn’t trust me, despite the tepid nod she gave me when I asked if she did. I can’t imagine going back to New York and not seeing her again. I knew that back in her hotel room, and I know it now.
“Not just for this week. And not just a little, on the side. I want you. All of you.”
An alarm bell rings in the back of my head, listing all the reasons it’s a bad idea. She doesn’t know everything, and if she did, she wouldn’t be standing here. I push that down and hold her tighter.
