Page 72 of The Man I Love

She splashed his face. Once, twice, and a third time, trying to wipe that smug expression. “I can’t believe you!” she yelled between each splash. “Who do you think you are?—”

BAM!More water pummeled her face.

“That’s it,” she said, and something inside her flickered to life. She no longer cared about the people around them or the fact that she was making a complete spectacle of herself. All she cared about was getting.

Tristan.

Montgomery.

The water around them turned into a chaotic tidal wave as they splashed with reckless abandon. She could barely see through the spray, but when she squinted, she noticed Tristan’s face turned in the opposite direction. Her heart leapt—it was her chance.

Without hesitation, she lunged, swooping her arms around his neck and pulling him backward, sending them both tumbling into the water.

He came up sputtering, wiping over his face to clear his eyes, but soon her leg was swooped out from under her, and she wasyanked toward his chest. She froze, feeling his bare skin pressed against her wet shirt and breasts.

His face was close to her ear, his arms cradling her body like a child. “Truce,” he whispered softly, causing goosebumps to travel over every inch of her skin. It all happened so fast. Lust ignited in her abdomen, at first like a small candle, but then his jaw brushed her hairline and that flame grew hotter, setting her body on fire.

Despite the heat, which spread like wildfire, she found herself trembling, remembering the last time he held her this close. Who was she kidding, memories of everything she’d so desperately tried to forget came rushing back. His scent, his touch, his voice, and every instinct told her to move away from him before it was too late—but she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t let her.

He went utterly still, his eyes boring into hers, and his grip softened at her rib cage.

A sexual charge shot through her, from the tip of her toes, all the way to her lips. His hands moved along her back, and his ragged breath became like a symphony in her ear. His lips then found her cheek. Not kissing but resting. Her head fell against his shoulder, and she let out the breath she’d been holding since he’d left her in the kitchen six months ago. She couldn’t hold back anymore. Couldn’t resist. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she wanted it. Wanted it more than anything she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“Samantha,” he whispered. It was one word, but she understood him. He was asking for a second chance. Practically begging.

Passion scorched her insides, and she could barely think anymore. Why was she holding back all this time? What had even happened in the first place?

He set her feet on the ground and turned her to face him, his thumb grazing her bottom lip. His eyes locked onto hers, intense and searching, asking silent questions she didn’t have answers to. Then, without hesitation, he dipped his head, and his mouth claimed hers without asking for permission.

The kiss was soft at first, so delicate that she feared even the slightest exhale might blow him away. She held her breath despite herself—just one kiss, one last touch, one fleeting moment to hold onto…

Then the kiss became bolder, more urgent, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth. Soon all resolve was shattered, and the pent-up emotions from the past six months were yanked to the surface. He lifted her from the water and kissed her harder again, this time more passionate, yet filled with something that had nothing to do with sex. It was urgent, yet slow. Loving, yet desperate. It was the best kiss she’d ever experienced—so perfect it made her dizzy. And yet, her heart raced in a way that wasn’t entirely pleasant, her mind screaming for it to stop, to pull away, to breathe before it consumed her completely.

She felt like a steam kettle ready to explode, like if she didn’t get away, she would die. With urgency like she’d never felt before, she pushed at his chest, feeling like she couldn’t breathe. He immediately put her down, almost dropping her in his haste.

If the water hadn’t been beneath her, she would have stumbled backward. She was hardly strong enough to stand—but she did, backing away on shaking legs as though he were something dangerous.

She spun away, her breaths coming in panicked gulps as she struggled to clear her thoughts. Tears threatened to spill, but she clung desperately to the fragile thread holding her together.

“Samantha.” Tristan was behind her again. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

She opened her mouth to repeat herself, but then Renee’s words came to her out of nowhere. She couldn’t ignore them anymore. Couldn’t stop them from screaming inside of her head.How can you move on when you haven’t even talked about what happened?

She stopped walking, then lifted her chin with the knowledge that she couldn’t hide from this any longer. She couldn’t pretend like the last six months without him hadn’t gutted her. It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t fair tothem.

She spun to face him, and her body shivered. “You left,” she said softly. “You left, and didn’t even give me a chance to explain.” Her words came without warning, with no transition from the passion they’d just experienced to this—yet—he understood. Finally, after all these months, the anger, the hurt, and all the things they’d never talked about were coming to the surface.

He raked his hands through his hair and met her eyes, as though silently asking if this was really where she wanted to have this conversation. Right here? Right now? With all these people watching?

She held her ground, wrapping her arms more tightly around her abdomen as she waited for him to speak. It was now or never. Because she wasn’t sure she’d ever have the guts to bring it up again.

“My father was in your apartment”—his voice was raw, full of gravel—“do you even know what that felt like?”

She could feel his emotions radiating from two feet away. “You should have let me explain”—her hands trembled, but she no longer tried to hide them—“but you ran. You left without even giving me a chance.”

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