Page 119 of It Must Be Fate

Tristan waits until he’s gone before he spins me in his arms. His hands find my ass in a way that’s completely inappropriate for polite company, but he’s never been one to care much about society rules anyway.

“Good girl.” He massages my flesh, taking in and enjoying the way I wince at the soreness. “You’re such a good girl,” he purrs approvingly.

The lowered pitch of his voice sends a tremor coursing through my body.

“Why?”

“You told him to fuck off so creatively.”

He smirks, an arrogant smile that tells me he’s going to take his time with me later, then releases my ass and steps back. Heextends a hand towards me, smiling in a way that makes him look devilishly handsome.

“May I have this dance?”

“Always.” I place my palm in his and he pulls me to the center of the dance floor. His arms circle my waist as mine do his neck and we turn about the room staring into each other’s eyes.

“He was right about one thing.” Tristan’s wolfish eyes drag slowly down from my face to my body before coming back up to my eyes. “It’s a beautiful dress. Can I really tear it off you later?”

I press closer until every inch of me is glued to him.

“I wore it for you.”

He delivers a sharp swat to my ass in the middle of the dancefloor. “Behave,” he orders. “We have to stay until the speeches are over.”

I look up at him from beneath my lashes. “Yes, chef.”

He groans and spins then dips me, eliciting a gasp from my lips. “You know what it reminds me of?”

“What?”

He pulls me back up and twirls me. When I’m held snugly back in his arms, he says, “The dress you wore to the Mackley Library grand opening all those years ago.”

My mouth drops. “How do you still remember that?”

“It was a memorable night,” he answers. “The dress. The forest. The chase.” In an instant, his eyes turn smoky with arousal. “The moment I caught you.”

The temperature of the room feels like it inches up ten unbearable degrees.

“Youbehave,” I murmur.

“Impossible when you’re in my arms, in that dress, and I have a movie of that night playing on loop in my head.”

The sound of the music stopping and metal clinking on glass saves me from answering or finding whatever broom closet Phoenix and Sixtine went off to and getting our turn in next.

Fanning my face with my hand, I turn in Tristan’s arms and look towards a makeshift stage at the far end of the ballroom.

Rogue holds a mic in one hand and a champagne flute in the other as the room comes steadily to a quiet. Bellamy stands next to him, smiling out into the crowd. Her eyes search for mine and twinkle when they find them.

“Did we miss anything?” Six asks, reappearing besides me with her hair decidedly more disheveled than the last time I saw her. Phoenix is on her other side, his hand clamped possessively on her waist.

“Nope,” I answer, wetting my thumb and running it under her eye to clean up the smudge of mascara I see there.

“Thanks,” she says with a laugh.

“Sorry about that,” Thayer says, breathless. “Ivy wanted me to— Six, what thehellhappened to you?” Her eyes move from our friend’s rumpled appearance over to the proudly smug husband standing next to her and she puts two and two together. “Never mind.Six times?” she mouths at her, holding up that many fingers.

When Sixtine nods, Thayer gives her an impressed thumbs up then looks around helplessly.

“Where’s my—”

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