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.”
It was the first time Tristan spotted pure panic in his older brother’s eyes. “Umm, princess, we were only joking around.”
“I’m not,” she whispered. “Catch you boys later.”
She sashayed away in her pink dress and kitten heels, leaving them in shocked silence.
“She’s mean,” Dalton finally said. “It must be the Southerner in her.”
“You’re such an asshole,” Cal muttered. “You just had to push her.”
“Me? I’m not the one who stated I’d be in charge for the rest of her natural life. That’s like red to a bull, dude. She’d better not tell Raven, either, or I’ll be pissed.”
Tristan laughed out loud, a rush of sibling affection cutting through the mess. Damn, he loved them, even though they were batshit crazy, especially since they’d found the women they loved.
“Daddy! Is it time for cake?”
His daughter’s voice warmed his ears, and he scooped her up for a brief hug, appreciating her giggles, before releasing her back to the ground. He noticed his brothers’ surprise at her easy endearment. They’d had a long talk, and he’d been willing to wait as long as it took for Becca to call him Dad. Hell, as much as it hurt, he’d have taken Uncle Tristan or even his first name. He never wanted to push her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with.
But damned if she hadn’t asked him right away if it was okay. Even now, his insides felt all mushy when he heard it. His beautiful, perfect daughter wanted to claim him as hers, and he’d never been so proud in his whole life.
“Yes, let’s get your mom. Think she’ll let me smoosh the cake in her face?”
“No! That’d be mean.” Her green eyes twinkled merrily. “But funny.”
“I think her revenge may be too scary,” he confided.
Becca nodded. “Once, my friend—who is not really my friend—was bullying me. She liked to tell me to do stuff and then push me down when no one was around. She made me cry, which made me so mad. I finally told Mama, and she called my not friend’s mom, and said some really scary things to her. Then she went to the teacher at school and it all stopped and I was so happy. Emma—my not friend—still hates me, but she never pushed me again. And then I met Lyndsey and Tracey and they’re my best friends.”
Tristan frowned. The idea of anyone hurting Becca made him nuts. He didn’t know what he’d do. There was so much negotiation in the world of parenting today, and things were so different. His father had used brutal force to gain discipline, but his mother had always been his soft spot in the world. Sydney was so like her. He saw all the qualities of good parenting and fierce love in Becca. He only hoped he could rise to the occasion and be the father she deserved. “So, your mom kicked some butt. Like Black Widow.”