All or Nothing at All(78)

He tore his mouth from hers. For one moment, she caught the primitive glint in those amber eyes, and she thought there was hope. Hope this marriage could be more than about Becca or his sense of justice. But then it was gone, like a trick of the light, and he turned from her, smiling as a blinding flash went off in her face.

"Smile for the camera," he commanded. "I think we deserve a formal wedding picture. Don't you?"

Anger crashed over her in waves. She blinked at the photographer, who gave her a thumbs-up at the pose, and then he dropped her back to the ground and let go of her like she'd burned him. The kiss had been a simple setup-and another deft attempt at punishment. Humiliation burned at the easy way she'd responded the moment he touched her.

"Don't push me, Syd," he warned.

Her smile was full of fake cheer and her own warning. "Ditto, Tristan."

He narrowed his gaze in surprise, studying her for a few hard, shattering moments. Then he walked away and disappeared into the crowd. His family surrounded him, chattering and laughing, and Becca stood in the middle, soaking in all the attention, her face glowing with happiness.




 

 

Sydney choked back the searing pain and reached for another glass of champagne.


He shouldn't have kissed her.

Tristan stayed within the safe circle of his family and fought for composure. Her sweet taste still lingered on his lips. His pants were uncomfortably tight, and the chatter around him was like bees buzzing, a distant hum in the background.

He still burned for her.

The fact ate away at his gut. This attraction wasn't going away. He'd thought the anger and betrayal would set his dick on the right path, but when it came to Sydney Greene-now Sydney Pierce-he'd always had a weak spot. Eventually he'd have to bed her. There was no way he could go years in this marriage without sex, but he needed some time to come to terms with being a father and a husband to a wife he intended to never love or trust.

He glanced over to find her staring at him. With a mocking smile, she lifted her glass and saluted him before drinking more champagne. Damned if he had to strangle back his laugh of amusement. She was such a ballbuster. Even after he'd deliberately humiliated her, she fought right back.

She was so fucking beautiful.

His heart had literally stopped when he saw her poised in the doorway in white. The dress was simple and elegant, flowing over her body and emphasizing the ripeness of her breasts, the curve of her buttocks, the hourglass of her hips. She sparkled so brilliantly he had to blink several times to make sure she wasn't just a vision. That glorious red hair was pinned up loosely, allowing waves to cascade down her back, fire peeking through the lacy white veil.

Her hand trembled in his as she recited her vows. He caught the gleam of panic in her emerald eyes as the words I do trembled on her lips. For a few seconds, he held his breath, tightening his hand on hers in slight warning. Once she said them, satisfaction flowed through him in riotous waves, along with something much more dangerous.

Possession.

He wanted to mark her as his, growl like an animal, and show the world she belonged to him. He'd never had such primitive emotions regarding a woman, but in his gut, Tristan knew he'd always known she was his for the taking, ever since she was eight years old and trailing him around in pure adoration.

He'd finally made it a reality.

He just had to keep from loving her.

Dalton clapped him on the shoulder, jarring him from his thoughts. "Raven said it's almost time for cake. You doing okay?"

"Yeah, thanks."

His younger brother gave a snort. "Listen, dude, if you're ready to wrap up, we'll follow your lead. Cake, coffee, home. This wedding is like a dream. No ridiculous dancing, throwing the bouquet, or garter shit. Think we can convince Morgan to follow your lead?" 

"No." Cal took his place in the circle. "Though I doubt there will be any bouquet or garter shenanigans. Morgan thinks it's primeval."

"But there'll be dancing, right?" Dalton asked.

Cal sighed. "Yeah. A lot of it. Bad stuff, too. She was actually talking about a Grease reprise."

Dalton shuddered. "Not me, man. I don't care if I'm in the wedding party. I'm not parading like a trained pony."

"Yes, you are." Cal glared. "You'll do whatever she tells you or my life will be shit. She gets one day. I get the rest. I can't wait till I'm back in charge. This whole wedding thing has been exhausting."

A smooth Southern voice cut into their conversation. "Y'all are the sweetest. I mean, giving me a whole day to do what I want?" Cal froze as his fiancée ran a hand down his arm, batting her eyelashes in mockery. "Since my entire life is going to belong to you, Charming, I'd better make this count." Her blue eyes sparked with evil glee. "I'm thinking we can reprise our first meeting at the reception. I already picked you out a prince costume so we can surprise the guests. You'd look so sexy in tights."