THE NIGHT CARRIES ON THROUGH MULTIPLE ROUNDS OF APPETIZERS, followed by Tabitha’s barbecue feast. Conversation flows and so does friendly teasing, as is to be expected with this group.

    But I can’t seem to stop checking on what Tripp is up to. After what went down this morning, his presence has me feeling more off-kilter than it should. Sure, he apologized for his fit, but watching him insert himself into this day has me feeling uneasy, especially since I often catch him staring at Bash with a slight furrow between his brows.

    The expression is all his dad’s, which is why I grow worried about what’s going on in his head. I wish I could say that constantly monitoring him isn’t affecting my enjoyment of the evening, but it is.

    That nagging feeling that the other shoe is about to drop won’t leave me alone. I slow down on my wine consumption, not wanting to overindulge and let something slip.

    Bash steers clear of me for the most part, which is torture. The asional friendly smile or holding his beer up in my direction seems to assure everyone that we’re on good terms.

    Except for Clyde. He looks downright suspicious.

    From outside,ughter roars. “Oh shit, sorry,” West exims between hearty guffaws.

    I turn toward themotion to see Bash standing out on the deck with his arms spread wide, beer dripping from his nnel shirt, a look of shock on his face.

    The girls and I watch the spectacle, giggling among ourselves as Ford wipes at Bash’s shirt with his bare hands, while Rhys stands nearby shaking his head.

    “Please don’t kill me,” West says. “I really had no idea that one was going to explode.”

    Rhys scoffs, crossing his arms. “West, you told me earlier that you shook one and put it back in the cooler just to see who would be the one to open it.”

    West grins, looking exactly like the troublemaker that he is. “Okay, fine, I did do that. That’s also why I opened it away from myself.” He tips his head toward Bash in apology. “Sorry, Bash.”

    “You’re a big fucking kid, you know that, Belmont?” Bash says, cuffing him lovingly upside the head. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

    Tripp observes them with a good-humored expression on his face. He watches Bash head into the house and so do I. But when I look back, Tripp’s eyes are on me. Piercing and borderline using.

    I shake it off and go back to talking with Rosie, Tabitha, and Skr, determined not to feed into his nonsense. They’re deep into discussing wedding ns for Rosie and Ford’s uing nuptials, and it’s a fun conversation to be included in. I never really thought marriage was for me, but seeing these couples, the way they can lean on each other without losing themselves has me rethinking my stance.

    Being with Bash has me rethinking too.

    It has me realizing that just because the marriage I grew up around wasn’t healthy doesn’t mean that healthy marriages don’t exist.

    The conversation shifts to cake vors, and I seize my chance to follow Bash, making up what is the weakest excuse of all time. “I have something stuck in my teeth that I just can’t get. I’m going to go floss quickly. I’ll be right back.”

    Rosie’s head flops back. “Ugh, I hate it when that happens.”

    No one else even blinks at my abrupt departure, and their conversation turns to live music options for the reception. The girls don’t think twice about my leaving, and yet the crawling sensation of someone watching me prickles at my back as I head toward the front staircase.

    When I get upstairs, I head straight to Bash’s bedroom, where I find the door ajar. I don’t bother knocking and slip inside with a brisk check over my shoulder to make sure no one followed me.

    My heart pounds as I click the door shut. I feel like a kid sneaking into forbidden territory. The risk of being caught is far too real, but here I am, sneaking around anyway.

    Light from Bash’s massive walk-in closet spills out across the darkened room, and I see his shadow take a couple of steps out toward the main part of the bedroom.

    “Hey, listen. I had to follow you up here because…” My words die as Bash steps out of the closet, shirtless and utterly distracting. I lick my lips, scanning the hard lines of his chest, and finish in a breathy voice. “Because I needed to get you alone.”

    His head tilts, then he trails a finger from his torso up to his face. “Gwen, my eyes are up here.”

    “Ha!” I bark out a nervousugh. “Funny. Really funny. Especially funny because I’m pretty sure that Tripp knows something is up.”

    Bash’s head jerks back a bit as his eyes narrow. “Nah. No way. Why would he think anything was going on between us?”

    My gaze travels to the purplish tinge I left on his skin. “Well, there’s a massive hickey on your neck, for starters.”

    His eyes bulge, and he turns, striding back into his closet where a full-length mirror adorns one of the cab doors.

    I step in behind him and watch him stretch his neck, running his fingers over the mark. First, he looks disbelieving, then his eyes heat, and he smirks at my reflection in the mirror behind him. “Have I been standing out there wearing this all night, Gwen?”

    I offer a demure shrug, feeling guilty that I left such an obvious mark on him. “I mean, it depended on the angle.”

    He gives me a disbelieving look, and I go on the defensive. “Listen, as far as I’m concerned, nobody else should be looking at you this closely. That’s my job.”

    He scoffs, turning to face me. “Are you feeling possessive after one time, Gwen? That’s adorable.” His gaze turns hungry, and the way he prowls toward me borders on predatory. “You know what’s got me feeling possessive?” he asks with a slight incline of his head, drawing nearer with each measured step.

    “What’s that?” I whisper.

    “Having to stand around all night with all these people here, pretending that you and I are nothing more than friendly acquaintances. You think Tripp’s been watching me? Not half as much as he’s been gawking at you. I’m supposed to prioritize that kid. I’m supposed to be building a rtionship with him.”

    His fingers slide under my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “But do you know the only thing I’ve been able to think about all fucking night, Gwen?”

    “What?” The fire zing in his eyes entrances me. He looks vicious, rugged, and downright feral.

    “The only thing I’ve been able to think about is that I don’t want him so much as looking at what’s mine.” His voice drops to a growl. “It’s driving me fucking crazy, knowing he’s had you.”

    “He never really had me,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I do. “Not the way you do. And I’m s—”

    His finger moves up, pressing against my lips, silencing me. “Don’t you dare apologize to me for that. We didn’t know. How could we know? The only thing that matters is that you’re here with me now. We made it back to each other. And as hard as it’s going to be, we’re going to make this thing work. We’re going to give this thing a go. I’m going to tell him. I just—not yet. Not tonight.” I nod. Tonight definitely does not seem like the moment to break that news to him.

    “But I really don’t think I can stand the thought of heading back down to that party without knowing how you taste.”

    Suddenly, he pushes me back against the door to his closet, and it ms shut. He drops to his knees before me, sure hands tugging at the long, flowy skirt I changed into when we got back.

    “I love this skirt,” he murmurs. “Such easy ess.” He hikes it up around my waist, bunching it up in his hand. “Hold this, Guinevere. Keep it out of my way.”

    I decide my full name doesn’t sound so bad when he’s the one saying it. My fingers grip the fabric while he tears at my underwear. He’s not gentle. He doesn’t unwrap me like a gift. He presses me against the door and rips them off, like he’s offended by their mere existence.

    With a house full of friends just below us, I vaguely recognize that this timing might not be ideal.

    But I press my back against the cupboards and lift my skirt higher anyway.