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“Tell me you love me,” he snarled, the words spoken into her mouth as his hand slipped under her skirt.

When he yanked her panties down, all Emily could concentrate on was the feeling of flames beginning to lick through her—and that feeling was threatening the last shreds of her self-control. His hand curved over her hot flesh. He slid two fingers into her syrupy wetness as his thumb circled her clit. Letting out a gasp, she tore her mouth from his, her arms clinging around his neck as her breathing flew past her lips, coming muffled into his shoulder. In all her anger, love, passion, and hurt, she bit down and sank her teeth into his skin. She wanted blood. She wanted him to hurt—wanted him to feel the same agony and pain she had felt every day since that devastating morning. Gavin groaned out, and with his free hand, he fisted the back of her hair and tilted her head up, her back now taut as a bow. His eyes bored into hers. With his breathing heavy and his fingers still sliding in and out of her, his mind drowned in the sound of her panting. He crushed his lips over hers again.

“If I could, I’d rip my heart out to show you how much I love you.” He brought his lips up, nipping at her ear, and she nearly came on his fingers. “Fuck, I miss you. I love you so much, and you’re killing me, Emily.”

“You bastard, you don’t love me. I hate you, Gavin. I hate you,” she cried out and tried to push him away.

He wouldn’t let her though. He snaked his arm around her lower back, pulling her to the very edge of the table, his fingers never stopping their delicious onslaught inside her pussy. Thrusting her hands back into his hair, a moan escaped Emily’s lips as her head fell back, exposing her neck in all its beauty. Gavin took the opportunity and buried his face against her collarbone. He traced a wet torrid line up her neck, nipping and sucking until his mouth was over hers again.

“I wish I could hate you—it’d be easier—but you have no idea how much I love you,” he breathed out, sucking in her bottom lip and gently biting it. “And that’s not hate you’re feeling for me. You love me, goddamn it. You’re mad at something that didn’t happen. Fucking hit me again. Fucking punch me if you need to, but stop saying you don’t love me because all you’re doing is lying to yourself. You’re tearing us apart.”

Still clinging to his hair, she pulled her lips away from his. They were both fighting for air as they burned holes into one another’s eyes. With one hand still buried in his hair, she smacked him in the face with the other, the sound reverberating throughout the room. At the same time, a moan left her mouth as she felt Gavin’s fingers slip out from inside her—her body left feeling torturously bereft by their absence.

“I hate you,” she cried out as her entire body braced itself for battle.

“No, you don’t. You love me, and I love you,” he growled through gritted teeth, glowering back at her. He brought his hands up and cupped her cheeks. “Hit me again if you have to, doll. Just do it. Fucking hit me again and get it all out.”

She didn’t hesitate. She smacked him again, fury and confusion burning deep inside as angry tears spilled down her cheeks.

Pulling her by the waist off the table, he set her on her feet and crashed his lips over hers again. “Leave with me right now. Don’t do this. Don’t marry him,” he pleaded into her mouth, his words vibrating against her lips. Grabbing fistfuls of his sweatshirt, Emily’s eyes rolled back into her head as she sank into the familiarity of his kiss, his smell, and his touch. “We’ll tell him together. I told you I wouldn’t let you do it alone. Gina means nothing to me anymore. I shouldn’t have let her in, but for fuck’s sake, I didn’t do anything with her.”

Pain.

There it was again, sweeping as fresh as an open wound through her soul. It bled out with no sign of letting up. Whispering his sweet words of seduction while trying to veil the bitter taste of the ugly truth, he was trying to break her down into nothing but tiny particles of dust. Like a whip, the harsh reality of what he was trying to do cracked through her chest, disturbing her thoughts with its potency. Immediately, without conscious effort, the gates around the fortress of her shattered heart closed. The most important thing now was to protect the remaining pieces.

She shoved hard against his chest, effectively pushing him away. Looking down, scrambling to pull her panties back up, she couldn’t see the shock on his face. Without a backward glance, she headed toward the door. In a few quick strides, Gavin was at her side. Not intending to let her leave the room, he caught her by the arm and pulled her to a skidded stop.

Swiping tears away from her hooded eyes, she looked up at him.

With his soul crying out for her to believe him, his expression creased painfully. “I’ve never felt so heartbroken and so in love at the same time. If you would’ve told me the day we met that you were going to break my heart— and that days, months, or even years would pass, that I would still be hurting like this—it wouldn’t have stopped me from falling in love with you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “But I would’ve done one thing differently, and loving you any less isn’t one of them.” He slowly brought his knuckles up to her face, wiping the tears away from her beautiful confused eyes, his voice soft. “I wouldn’t have let her in. That’s the only thing I would’ve changed, Emily. I wouldn’t have fucking let her in.”

As her body trembled from head to toe, Emily stood there staring at him, but before she could speak a word, the door flung open.

Olivia poked her head inside. “Em, Joan is scouring the fucking restaurant for you right now,” she whispered, her tone urgent.

Sniffling, Emily tore her gaze from Gavin, her heart grating to shreds in the process. Her mind was no less confused than when she’d first stepped in there with him. Trying to calm herself down, she took a deep breath, smoothed her hands through her hair, and walked out of the room.

Gavin followed—his thoughts no less fucked-up either.

Emily looked to him as Olivia hastily handed her a tissue. “You have to leave, Gavin.”

Shocked by her words, confusion and anger clouded his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” He shook his head. “I’m in this wedding party, and I’m staying.”

She glared icicles at him. “You’re just trying to hurt me now.”

“You know what,” he said, swallowing tightly. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m trying to hurt you as much as you’re hurting me. The saddest part about this whole thing is that while I was in there begging you to stay, I didn’t fucking realize you were already gone. So, yeah, I’m staying, and I hope you fucking hurt through every second of it as much as I will. Deal with it.”

After her mouth snapped shut from hanging agape, Emily spun around in the direction of the bathroom.

“No!” Olivia called out, grabbing her by the arm. “You don’t have time. You have to get in there right now, Em.” She plucked the tissue from Emily’s hand, licked it, and started wiping off the streams of mascara that were blanketing her cheeks.

Watching her intently, Gavin smirked. “Don’t forget about the lipstick that’s smeared all over her.”

Emily shot him a look.

“I’m cool, right? There’s no lipstick left on me?” he asked, his smirk turning into a full-watted smile. “I love getting kissed by women who
claim
that they don’t love me—makes my dick hard as a motherfucker.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Olivia handed Emily her lipstick.

“Oh my God, Gavin, now you’re just being an asshole,” Emily spat, reaching for the lipstick. She quickly slid it across her lips.

“Mmm, you haven’t seen anything yet,” he chuckled, tossing his hand through his unruly black hair. “I have a feeling I’m going to break my own record tonight.” He went to walk away but turned back around. “And, if I recall correctly, I think I told you once not to bring any attention to those pretty little lips. Put the lipstick away or else I’ll drag you right back in that room and really change your fucking mind.” He slowly ran his tongue over his mouth while his eyes shimmered with insatiable lust.

Olivia raised a surprised brow as Emily’s mouth dropped open.

Heart broken into pieces, he turned in a leisurely pivot, tucked his hands in the pocket of his jeans, and sauntered into the party room. Scanning the modestly sized space filled with thirty or so people, it didn’t take him long to lock eyes with Dillon. Gavin grunted to himself as he walked over to the bar and ordered himself a much-needed shot of tequila and a bottle of beer. He threw a $100 tip to the bartender and turned around, only to find Dillon standing behind him.

Swallowing down the need to beat the shit out of him, Gavin couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Ah, and there he is—the lucky fucking groom.” He tossed that much-needed shot down his throat, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched Emily float into the room. “And there’s your beautiful bride,” he said, gesturing with his head in her direction.

With a suspicious look on his face, Dillon stared at him for a moment and then turned around, motioning Emily over to them. If Dillon couldn’t notice it—the way she nervously looked at them—Gavin sure as hell did. When she approached, Gavin popped the top off his beer, arched a perfect brow, and bit his lip, making sure she heard the luscious smacking noise as he pulled it through his teeth.

She glared at him.

“Are you alright?” Dillon probed. “You look upset.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice monotone, her eyes never leaving Gavin’s.

“Are you sure? You seem…off.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, she finally looked at Dillon. “Yes.”

After placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth, Dillon curled his arm around her waist and turned his attention to Gavin. “What’s the deal, man?” he asked, giving him a quick once over. “You never showed up to the church, and now you come to my rehearsal dinner looking like this?”

As Gavin watched Dillon circle his thumb against Emily’s waist, seething anger, sharp as razor blades, shredded at his stomach. He flicked his eyes up in her direction. “I’m having a problem with a woman right now,” Gavin answered evenly.

“And? That doesn’t garner you showing up here looking like that.” Dillon retorted.

With her pulse quickening, Emily could see the fire surging behind Gavin’s eyes. “Dillon,” she immediately interrupted, “does it really matter what he’s dressed in? Let’s go sit down, okay?”

“Yeah, it matters. He—”

“Dillon,” she interrupted again, her tone more insistent. “I’m not kidding. Let’s just go sit.” Dillon narrowed his eyes on her, and with that, she decided to bring her tone down a notch. “I don’t feel good right now alright. Come on,” she said, grabbing for his hand.

“I’d listen to her if I were you,” Gavin smirked, draping his arm over the bar. He took a long pull from his beer, nearly finishing it. “Just a guess, of course, but if you piss her off enough, she seems like the type that might smack a guy.” Emily’s eyes widened as he ran his palm over the spot where she had slapped him. “And I bet it’d sting like a bitch, too,” he added, turning his back to them. His attention was now focused on ordering another beer to help aid in the self-inflicted hell he was putting himself through.

“What’s your problem, bro?” Dillon asked, tapping him on his shoulder.

Gavin didn’t turn around. “One, I’m not your bro, and two, I told you that I’m having a problem with a woman.”

“He’s just drunk I think,” Emily whispered against Dillon’s ear, her heart thundering in her chest. “Let’s go talk to my sister and Michael.”

After staring at the back of Gavin’s head for a few lingering seconds, Dillon looked to Emily and gave a tight nod. Knees weak with relief, Emily silently released the breath she was holding. As they turned and made their way through the party, she made eye contact with Olivia from across the room where she stood talking with Fallon. Shaking her head, Olivia looked down to the ground and then back to Emily. It was then that Emily realized that she and Gavin’s situation had put all of their friends in a very bad spot—and for this, the unrest in her stomach grew. Trying to push her guilt to the side, she plastered a smile on her face as she walked hand in hand with Dillon through the room, greeting their guests.

After enduring a few minutes of light conversation—namely with guests she barely knew—Emily’s eyes landed on her sister, Lisa, and her husband. Considering the torture the evening had shown thus far, Emily felt slightly at ease as they approached her and Dillon.

A wide friendly smile spread across her brother-in-law’s face as he pulled her in for a hug. “Where’d you run off to before, soon-to-be Mrs. Parker?”

Crossing his arms, Dillon cocked his head to the side after Michael released her from his hold. “Yeah. Where were you actually? My mother said she looked everywhere and couldn’t find you.”

Emily opened her mouth to speak, her heart racing.

“Michael,” Lisa chirped up, glancing at Emily. Her hazel eyes showed a wealth of knowledge. “I told you she went outside for a breath of fresh air.”

Staring at her sister, Emily gave a weak smile and mentally thanked her for the save.

Appearing confused by his wife’s statement, Michael ran a hand through his tousled brown hair. “Hmm, maybe you did,” he laughed, holding up his martini. “It’s quite possible that I’ve had one too many of these.”

“Why’d you go outside?” Dillon asked, placing his hand on the small of her back. “I asked if you were alright before, and you said you were fine.”

Smiling, Lisa reached for Emily’s hand. “Us girls can get a little…emotional before the big day.” Feeling nearly lightheaded, Emily gripped her hand tighter. “Michael, why don’t you explain to Dillon what we’re looking to do with our retirement fund? I’d like to talk with my sister about the semantics of the wonderful ‘honeymoon’ phase.”

“Oh, yeah,” Michael said, turning to Dillon. Dillon peered at Emily for a second and adjusted his tie. “If we don’t get our shit together, Lisa and I will most definitely
not
be retiring on an island somewhere.”

Hesitantly, Dillon dragged his gaze from Emily and gave Michael his attention.

Hands still locked, Lisa pulled Emily through the party, avoiding every possible guest that tried to stop and talk with her. Taking a seat at a small cocktail table in the corner of the room, she gave Emily a sympathetic look.