He dips half of his face under the water as he floats in front of me, only his eyes and nose above the surface. His eyes reflect the water, luminescent.

Frustration is eating at me.

I want to grab his wet hair and kiss him.

I want to pull him underwater and kiss him.

I want to take him home and kiss him.

I want him to take me home and kiss me.

And then I want to forget I ever kissed him, and ever wanted to.

“Roth!” one of the girls calls from the pool steps. The moment Tahoe glances in her direction, she ceremoniously takes off her top.

“Very nice, baby,” he says, smirking, getting a long look at her boobs.

Disgusted, I start to swim to the edge of the pool.

With one powerful stroke, he reaches it first.

He lifts his brows as both our hands curl on the ledge and again, our eyes meet.

His expression is unreadable.

“Fine, so you got me wet,” I finally say, releasing my anger. “I know how you can make it up to me.”

He lunges out of the pool. I pull myself up and he hands me a towel.

“I’m not a one-night-stand kind of girl, which is why I’m giving you the chance only a few others have ever had. One night with me. Happy birthday.”

He scowls as he towels off his chest. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“Excuse me?”

He straightens as he wraps the towel around his hips, his lips quirking sardonically. “How many?”

“What? How many guys?”

“That’s right.”

“I…well, two, and my ex, Paul. But that wasn’t a one-night stand; we were together for two years.”

“In either case, that’s nowhere near enough for you to recover after a night with me.”

I blink in disbelief. “Oh wow, you’re so full of yourself.”

“Hey.” He takes my chin and forces me to stare deeply—painfully—into those blue eyes. “You were vulnerable at Saint’s wedding, and I held you in my arms, and I liked it, but you were right to deny me. You were right and I was wrong.”

I scowl and follow him. “You think I can’t handle you?”

He stops and stands over me. I exhale.

His eyes darken a little.

I’m nervous and vulnerable, wondering if I completely misread him before.

But as we stand there, everything falls away until all I see are those blue eyes. Amusement is gone; something dark and watchful lurks in his gaze.

“Thanks for coming, Regina,” he says.

His words pierce like an arrow through my chest.

“You’re declining my birthday present…?”

He looks away, his jaw tight as he exhales. He draws me away from the crowd, and I see a flash of raw regret in his gaze. “I’ve got nothing good to offer you, Regina.” His gaze holds mine, and he leans forward. He smiles against my ear, my knees turn to rubber. “Seeing you wet was gift enough for me.”

He eases back then crooks a finger and signals for the floozies and the two stalker girls to follow him up a spiral staircase.

I grit my teeth and stare after him with an aching knot in my stomach, hating myself for putting myself in such a vulnerable position, hating that I didn’t work him out of my system when I had the chance. Hating that I’m wet, that he ruined my dress and my evening.

Wynn is waving, standing with Emmett, her eyes filled with concern.

I smile a fake smile at her.

Tahoe is right, it’s better that I rejected him, better to stay away from him. I’ve been hurt before, and knowing I’d have to see Tahoe again because of Saint and Rachel would make having sex an awkward mistake we would have to endure forever.

I just want to drink and forget him—how hard his chiseled muscles felt, forget the way he smelled, all wet and warm.

I’m ready to go home, but Wynn and Emmett are snuggled close together in a booth and I realize I still need sex, a one-night stand, a reminder that I’m human and alive and female.

As I turn to leave the pool room, I bump into the guy who’d been staring at me earlier in the night.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, concerned.

“Oh, I’m perfect. Do you want to get a drink?”

“Hell yeah,” he says.

I ask the guy for his name, and after a few drinks, I take him—Trent—back home.

* * *

We’re in my bed. Hot lips on my neck, hands over my bare flesh. I removed my top but I’m still wearing my damp underwear. I tilt my neck to the side, and I’m transported to Rachel and Saint’s wedding…

After the church ceremony, after a couple of drinks, I steal away from the party and walk for a few minutes toward the beach. I sit and stare at the waves, trying not to think about how much I’m going to miss living with Rachel.

Suddenly, I sense something on the back of my neck, and I know I’m not alone. I know who’s sharing this moment with me.

Him.

Of all the people in the world I wouldn’t like to see me weak, he is at the top of that list.

We’re friends. I guess.

Otherwise I can’t account for why he sits quietly beside me and puts his jacket over my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I say, tugging at it. I feel like he’s hugging me. It smells like him and I realize I’ve never touched something that he’s touched. My skin tingles and my heart aches.

“Why are you crying?” he asks, staring ahead. We both do, as if eye contact would be too intimate.

He leans closer, puts his arm around me, and I feel guarded.

“What are you up to, Tahoe?”

“I’m up to many things.”