Page 20 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

Tristan reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. “You’ve just made this wedding a hell of a lot more interesting.”

He really was the most appealing man she had ever met. In a rakish, naughty, devil-may-care kind of way. Was that the attraction? Was she tired of being a good girl? Was she tired of being alone?

Tristan scanned a three-sixty view around them.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Making sure there’s no one around.”

And then he kissed her.

It was nothing like last night’s lazy buildup. This kiss was desperate and hunger-driven. Their calm, rational conversation had apparently hidden a banked flame.

Daley wrapped her arms around his neck. When his hands slipped under her skirt and found her ass, she didn’t stop him. He rubbed her butt over her bikini panties until she thought her heart would beat out of her chest.

She stared at him wild-eyed. “Do you think we can...”

“Here?” he asked. All the planes and angles of his face were taut and fierce.

“Maybe it’s too dangerous.”

“I can be quick,” he swore.

She choked out a laugh. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t see that as a positive, but sure.” Were they really going to do this? It was madness.

Tristan sat down on the bench and unzipped his pants.

Daley hesitated. “I’ve never done anything like this in my life.”

He winced. “We don’t have to...”

“No,” she said, telling herself she wouldn’t let her natural caution ruin a good thing. “No, I want this. I want you.”

Tristan didn’t even take off her undies. When she straddled his lap, he fingered her, drew her down on top of him and joined their bodies.

Daley couldn’t stop shaking. She liked this woman, whoever she was.

Tristan took her chin in his hand. “Look at me, Daley. Can you come like this?”

She nodded. “Oh, yes. Go for it.”

What happened next defied explanation. Tristan kept one arm around her waist while he drove them both insane. It was fast and furious and incredibly hot.

Daley felt dizzy when pleasure ripped through her.

Tristan buried his face in the curve of her neck to muffle his shout.

Afterward, they clung to each other like survivors of a shipwreck.

At last, he straightened and stared at her. “Good lord, woman.”

She couldn’t tell if his words were praise or complaint. Embarrassment ripped through her. He must think she was a nymphomaniac.

Awkwardly, she stood and straightened her clothes. She glanced at her watch. “I have to go back,” she said. “It’s late.”

“Are you mad at me?” He cocked his head and stared at her.

“Of course not.” She was sated and relaxed, but at the same time aghast and guilty. This was Tabby’s wedding weekend. What was she doing?

---