Page 38 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

“I can’t stay that long,” she said, trailing in his wake.

He turned on a single lamp and sprawled on the sofa. “Come sit, Daley.”

She stood in front of him. “You and I both know that’s a terrible idea. I was trying to be nice.”

“Were you?” He cocked his head and looked at her until she flushed.

“Yes,” she muttered.

“Or maybe you wanted to see me as much as I’ve wanted to see you. Five or six weeks is a long time.”

“We agreed not to do this,” she said, her heart beating faster.

“Do what?”

“You know exactly what.”

There was a lot at stake here. During Tabby’s wedding weekend, Daley had technically started all the fooling around with Tristan when she asked him to come inside her room and pour ice from his bucket into hers.

Now, Tristan had kept his word. He had avoided her for days on end. Was she going to be the one to break their run of common sense?

“I’m leaving,” she said, urging her bare feet to move.

He put his thumb on her knee, rubbing in gentle circles. Who knew that spot was one of her erogenous zones?

“Don’t go,” he said, the words husky. “I’m not contagious.” His blue eyes gleamed as he looked up at her.

“I need to be in bed early. Tomorrow is a workday.”

What a dumb thing to say. But at least it made him smile.

“It’s only seven, Daley. Live a little. Besides...”

She frowned. “Besides what?”

An odd look crossed his face. Discomfiture?

He rolled to his feet. Because of how close she stood to the sofa, they were now practically nose to nose. Tristan tucked her damp hair behind her ears. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his breath warm on her cheek. “And not just the sex. I’ve missed talking to you and laughing with you. What do you think that means?”

“It means nothing,” she snapped. He was scaring her. Because he was saying words she wanted to hear, and that was dangerous.

“Don’t I deserve a reward for good behavior?” His lopsided smile was filled with sensual intent.

“Maybe.” She sighed. “What do you think is fair? I brought you dinner.”

He kissed her forehead. “I was imagining something more personal.” He cupped her breasts in his hands. His touch was gentle through the soft cotton of the T-shirt, but it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Her nipples tightened, and heat coiled between her legs.

She was embarrassed at the noise that escaped her throat.

When he heard it, Tristan’s eyes glittered, and his cheeks flushed. “You like this?” he asked, squeezing carefully.

“You know the answer to that,” she said, resting her cheek against his hard chest.

“I want to make love to you, Daley. Please.”

The silence in the room filled a vast canyon of doubt. Nothing had changed. All the reasons for Daley to keep Tristan Hamilton at arm’s length still existed.

She wasn’t a careless or destructive person. Her priorities were clear: Family. Career. Self-care. And self-improvement.

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