Me, too. My fingertips still tingle remembering how I clutched his shoulders, how my hips pressed harder against him with each breath. The way my vision started to blur at the edges while my thighs trembled. All through denim and cotton—the friction of fabric somehow making it more forbidden, more urgent.
“If you want a repeat, I’m available,” he says.
I meet his gaze. My lungs seize, my fingers curl against my palms. The corner of his mouth twitches upward, and I find myself counting the golden flecks in his amber eyes, imagining how his stubble might feel against my neck. My key card burns in my pocket as I glance toward the hallway leading to my locked room, then back to his lips.
“No pressure,” he adds, stepping back with his hands in the air. “Ball’s in your court.”
“I think—”
My words catch in my throat as the door swings open. I grip Ford’s forearm, my fingernails digging half-moons into his skin. He follows my gaze and his shoulders stiffen beneath my touch.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, jaw clenching.
The whiskey bottle catches the light first—amber liquid sloshing as Asher thrusts it overhead like a trophy. Behind him, Kenzie’s stilettos click against the hardwood, her arm snaked through his, red lips curled upward at the corners.
“Who’s ready for a party?” Asher’s voice booms through the cabin, drowning out the sudden silence of everyone else.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Gina asks for me as she walks out with Lance. “Who invited you? Because I know I didn’t.”
Kenzie keeps grinning, her scarlet lips stretching thin across perfect teeth, eyes glittering with cold satisfaction. She tosses her honey-blonde hair over one shoulder, diamond studs catching the light as she tilts her head in mock sympathy.
“Well, considering you scheduled your party the same night as mine,” she says, voice dripping sweetness like poison, “I canceled mine to combine them. We had almost the same guest list, and it’s only fair.” Her manicured fingers flutter dismissively before resting on her hip. “You know, since you have to get married so quickly.”
“Yeah, I don’t want you here. Any guests who would rather celebrate with you than with me are welcome to leave. I really don’t mind,” Gina snaps back.
Asher shrugs, “We’re already here, so let’s just make the best of it.” He strides over to my room and asks, “Anyone got a key for this room?”
“It’s already spoken for,” I reply.
He extends his hand expectantly. “Well, it can be given up for the guests of honor, so whoever it is, hand over the key.”
“The guests of honor already have their room,” Gina interjects. “That’s Lance and me.”
“Then who’s in these two rooms?”
“The two of us who paid for this cabin. So unless you plan to cough up the money for the rental and the manor, you can sleep on the floor with the other guests,” Holly retorts.
Kenzie’s eyes narrow to glittering slits, her nostrils flaring slightly as she shoots a glare our way that could freeze hellfire. The muscles in her jaw twitch beneath her perfectly contoured cheekbones as she clenches her teeth, barely containing whatever venom she’s about to spew. “I don’t think you canmake demands like that. Come on, Harper, don’t be vindictive. Just give us the key to the room. You wouldn’t want us out here enjoying our relationship for everyone else to witness.”
“God, please tell me you’re not going to do that,” Joel chimes in. “I don’t want to be scarred for life.”
Lance’s best man, Trey, nods vigorously. “Seeing them naked might ruin sex for me forever, and I actually enjoy it.”
“Don’t we all?” Lance quips. “If you decide to get busy in front of everyone, we’ll toss you out into the snow and lock the doors. If you freeze, that’s your own fault because you were warned.”
“You’re seriously not going to give us your room?” Asher asks incredulously.
“Hasn’t she already given you enough?” Ford counters. “Or is this your way of backtracking on your confession of still being in love with Harper?”
Kenzie’s glare could cut glass, her perfectly plucked eyebrows drawing together like storm clouds. I watch them both, my stomach churning with disbelief. Asher stands there in his designer jeans and that smug half-smile that once made my heart flutter but now just makes my skin crawl.
His cologne, the cheap sandalwood scent he insists on buying, hangs in the air between us like a reminder of wasted years. And then there’s Kenzie with her gleaming hair and calculated poise, her friendship as artificial as the French tips on her manicured nails.
I shake my head at them, at the hollow shells they’ve revealed themselves to be.
“I’m not giving up my room. You crashed the party, so you don’t get any special treatment unless you pay for it,” I assert.
“Or, you know, you could always be so angry about this that you... leave,” Gina suggests.
