Chapter 20
A whole different kind of anxiety flooded through me as Cynthia turned to me with a glass of champagne.
A smile widened her face, revealing the points of her incisors.
She always joked that in a previous life she was a vampire, which was why she was always Team Edward, no matter how much I tried to persuade her to Team Jacob.
Jacob was the warm protector, the one who stayed through it all, who burned bright and steady instead of lurking in the shadows. He wasn’t the bad boy, but bad boys were overrated. Guys like Jacob were reliable, kind… your best friend.
My gaze drifted to Wyatt, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“Hello?” Cynthia lilted as she dangled the glass of champagne in my face.
I took it and offered her a smile. I pretended to bring it to my lips, then paused, my gaze drifting back to Wyatt, who just high-fived Chris.
Wyatt’s eyes caught mine again, and a cute smile touched his mouth. Thoughts of what he was going to say before we were interrupted crowded my mind. My body felt unsettled, like when a commercial cuts in right when a life-changing moment is about to happen on a show.
Or maybe… maybe nothing was going to happen at all. Like he’d said, we wanted different things.
The more thoughts that floated in my head, the more I wondered if I really did.
“You still look at him like you did a decade ago,” Cynthia said.
“What? No. I mean…” Heat erupted in my cheeks, and I brought my attention to her.
“You do. It’s sweet. Sometimes I swear I look at Chris like he’s the most repulsive thing in the world.”
A laugh burst from my lips. “You don’t.”
“I do,” she said matter-of-factly. “But that’s love, no? You can be repulsed by them one minute and the next you can’t wait to rip their clothes off.”
I could never be repulsed by Wyatt, not when he made me laugh ninety percent of the time.
She held up her glass, and I followed suit, knots twisting my stomach in a fury of panic.
“To the men we love for whatever reason.” She clicked my glass, and I slowly brought the glass to my lips.
Maybe she wouldn’t notice if I didn’t take a sip.
The liquid slid up the glass, and just as I was about to put my theory into action, Wyatt’s voice rang out.
“Ramon!”
Chris let out a roar of joy as he and Wy hurried over to their college roommate. Wyatt threw his arms up, and Chris stumbled behind him. Cynthia’s attention drew to the threesome, and I quickly dumped my champagne in a Monstera Deliciosa plant with beautiful green leaves.
Hugs and hellos were shared, and everybody made their way to the bar. Cynthia nodded at my glass. “Another?”
“I’m going to have water.”
Cynthia’s eyebrow raised.
“My stomach’s still not right since the plane ride.”
“That makes sense,” she said and made her way to the bar.
“Shots!” Chris bellowed, arm flinging in the air.
“You don’t need shots,” Cynthia said, turning from the bar and facing her soon-to-be husband.
“Don’t be a buzzkill,” he mumbled.
“Don’t be a drunken fool,” she countered. “You’ve had enough.”
“I put a ring on your finger, and suddenly you think you can tell me what to do?”
Wyatt’s hand landed on Chris’s shoulder. “Tread lightly, bud.”
“Yeah, tread lightly.” Cynthia’s tone sliced through the air.
They glared at each other, and I inhaled, waiting for the explosion.
It was obvious they loved each other, but once a fight was instigated, there was not much anyone could do except sit back and wait to clean up the carnage.
Chris scoffed, rolling his shoulders like he could shake off the warning along with Wyatt’s hand. Wyatt’s grip tightened.
“Relax, I’m kidding,” Chris said, though his tone lacked the humor his words promised.
Cynthia didn’t laugh; she slid his beer out of reach and replaced it with a glass of water the bartender had conveniently placed there.
She waited for a second as if she were waiting for him to say something else.
For a moment, I thought he would. But then he exhaled and snatched the glass of water, downing half of it in one go.
“See,” he said. “I know when to stop.”
Cynthia’s lips parted as if she were going to argue, but then her lips snapped shut. Smart. There was no getting through to Chris when he was drunk. It was either let him roam free or battle a stubborn mule.
Wyatt released Chris’s shoulder and patted his chest. “Proud of you, buddy,” Wy said, and my eyebrow rose. Wyatt must have caught my expression because he silently shook his head at me as if to say, don’t worry about it.
The tension in the small hotel bar eased, and the boys continued with their antics. Cynthia ordered a glass of champagne, downed it in two sips, and placed the glass on the bar. “I don’t want to abandon ship,” she said. “But it’s been a long day.”
“And we have a long day tomorrow,” I said as relief slammed into me. “Let’s be old and go to bed early.”
Her laugh was welcomed after the uncomfortable standoff. She went over to Chris, said a few words, and came back to me. “Ready when you are.”
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Aren’t you going to say good night to Wy?”
“Right.” Uncertainty weighed me down as I dragged myself toward Wyatt. He stopped talking as I approached, head tilted.
I motioned over my shoulder. “I’m going to head up. We have an early day tomorrow.”
“Do you need me to go with you?”
His hand gripped mine, and he squeezed. We stood there as if neither of us wanted to let go, and for me, I didn’t.
I wanted to drag him upstairs and finish our conversation before we were interrupted.
Figure things out because while we wanted different things, there was one thing I couldn’t change. I still wanted him.
And he needed me.
Exhaustion lined his eyes. His easy smile was starting to crack at the edges. It had been a long day, and his social meter was flashing red.
I bit my lip and held his gaze. Once upon a time, that look meant I’m tired, let’s go upstairs. Even if we didn’t always make it to sex, I knew how to pull him away without anyone questioning it.
And there was only one way to do that.
I stepped closer, raking my hands up his chest, fingers curling into his collar.
“Chris!” I called over Wyatt’s shoulder. “I’m stealing him.”
Wyatt blinked down at me, surprise flickering in those golden-brown eyes before understanding dawned.
“Rose—”
I lifted onto my toes and crashed my mouth to his.
Not soft or sweet… desperate and maybe a little performative.
For one breath, he froze, but then his hand rested on my waist, pulling me flush against him, the other hand sliding into my hair as if it belonged there.
His mouth moved against mine with a familiarity that hurt.
But it also healed me, undid me, made me want to never stop kissing him.
Because he kissed me as if he meant it. Like he wasn’t playing. Like he still loved me with every ounce of his being.
A wolf whistle sounded somewhere behind us.
Chris groaned. “Get a room.”
“We plan to,” I said against Wyatt’s mouth.
I slowly pulled away, hand slipping into his as if it was second nature because it was.
We didn’t make it ten steps before his arm snaked around my waist. “Careful,” he murmured against my ear, his breath sending chills cascading down my neck. “They’re watching.”
“Good.” I grinned, already turning into him.
The hallway buzzed with drunken laughter and off-key singing, but I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to. I could feel eyes on us.
Wyatt played along instantly. His hand dropped lower, fingers spreading at the small of my back. He bent his head like he was about to say something filthy in my ear.
Me heat slammed against my chest, wishing he would. The heat of his mouth feathered over my lobe, and I broke into a smile, smacking his chest at the words I’d imagined he’d say.
We reached the elevator, slowly moving away from each other, and the doors dinged open.
My eyes landed on the man stepping out, and panic set in when I realized it was the bride's brother. I grabbed Wyatt’s shirt and dragged his mouth to mine. He mumbled something, but whatever he said was lost to my tongue.
He inhaled sharply, but he didn’t miss a beat. His hand cupped my ass and hoisted me into his arms. The bride’s brother muttered something as he passed, and I felt and heard Wyatt give him a high-five in passing.
Wyatt moved with me in his arms, his mouth on mine, his hands gripping my ass.
The sound of the elevator's doors closing echoed around me, but all I could focus on was the feel of his tongue dancing with mine.
The way his hands fit perfectly on my curves, and how I had dreamed about this too many times in the last week.
My back pressed against the wall, cold metal not helping to cool me down. His mouth glided over mine, slower now, savoring every stroke of our tongues, every touch of his lips. Hit thumb brushed along my jaw, but I felt it everywhere.
God, I missed him. Missed the warmth of his touch, the weight of him on me. The way he always fit against me like we were made for each other. The way one kiss could erase every argument and every doubt.
Marriage. Rings. Paper. Expectations.
None of it mattered in this moment. Not when he kissed me like I was his last gulp of oxygen. Not when he held me like he was afraid I’d disappear.
I didn’t care about any of those things. I just wanted him.
His hard length pressed into me, and I ground against it. Pleasure erupted inside me, spreading through my body. Using the wall as an anchor, I reached for his pants, needing to feel his desire for me. My hands shook with desperation, and the button refused to break free.
A low sound rumbled in his throat, and he drew away from me just as he placed me on the ground.
My hands fell to my side, and shame and disappointment slammed into me.
His head rested on mine. He didn’t pull away completely, just enough to breathe, enough to look at me with those golden-brown eyes that had always been my home.
“Rose, what are we doing?”
“Pretending.”
“For who? There’s no one around. It’s just us.”
“I… I don’t know.”
He turned from me, hand finding his hair like it always did. “I want you so fucking bad right now, but I also don’t want to cross a line we shouldn’t cross.”
“Why not?” I asked, knowing he was right, but after having his hands all over me, I didn’t want to listen to reason.
The elevator door dinged, but we just stood there.
I stepped backward into the gap, keeping the doors from closing.
He moved toward me, his hand slid to my hip again, fingers pressing into the curve.
His eyes darkened. “Because if we do this,” he said, his voice rough with desire.
“If we let this continue, it won’t just be sex.
Not for me. I want you back. I’m determined.
” His jaw ticked, and he swallowed. “But I don’t know if I can survive you walking away again. ”
My breath hitched.
His forehead dropped to mine. “I’m going to get some air.” He leaned in, brushing my lips with his. “Night, Rosebud.”
My body froze at the gentle contact, at the amount of affection in the tiniest of kisses. “Night.”
He stepped back, and on autopilot, I moved out of the way of the elevator doors. Our eyes held until the doors closed, and I was alone.
I practically stumbled down the hall and slipped into our room, and the rose petals still lay in our initials on the bed.
Tears burned my eyes; emotions I’d been hiding from rose to the surface, and I collapsed on the bed. My legs pulled into my chest, my arms wrapped around my knees, and I cried.