Faye picked up her purse. She knew what she wanted, and she was resolute. Now that he had kissed her, she had to know.
Now that she had come this far, she had to go through with it.
She checked with one of the bridesmaids who had the guest lists. Called the hotel, pretended to be Tristan's sister, found the room number he was staying in.
That night, she went to the hotel. In the lift, she looked at her dark hair, smoothed down her dress and exited the elevator lightly when the bell sounded on the 15th floor.
She knocked once, twice.
Tristan opened the door. When he saw her, his face darkened.
"What do you want," he said, lowly.
"You know what I want," Faye answered. She pushed past him into the room.
He was the same, after all, after all those years.
A single luggage bag in the corner, barely any evidence of habitation in the sparse room, a pressed white shirt on a hanger in the open closet.
"Just one night."
"Excuse me?" Tristan said.
He turned and looked at the woman who had filled his dreams for years and years.
She stood beside the double bed, in a skimpy black dress, with an expression that was resolute, defiant.
"One night," she said. "You owe me that. After all this time. And I will go home to my... my job, and my single apartment, and... and no Kitty, and no.."
To her shock she felt her eyes fill with hot tears, spilling over.
"No you."
Tristan watched her with an unreadable face. He had known many sides of Faye, in their time together, but this - this he did not know.
He stepped closer to her and pulled her in his arms, stroking her hair and wiping her tears away with his thumbs.
Tucking her fringe behind her ears, he held her face in both hands and looked at her.
Faye returned his gaze, with soft, large eyes, pleading.
"One night," he said, immediately kicking himself in the gut as he uttered the words.
Relief flushed over her, and Tristan too, as he lowered his mouth to hers.
She tasted like sex. Like decadent pleasure, and hours of sensation, naked skin, teasing, dark orgasms.
He felt himself swelling in his jeans. Reaching up, he pulled the straps of her dress down, palming her delicate shoulders as he swept his tongue into her mouth, feeling his arousal spike between his legs.
"Tristan," Faye gasped, feeling his weight on her finally, as he pushed her gently on the bed.
Still fully clothed, he moved his mouth down her neck, cresting the swell of her breasts. She breathed in shallow bursts.
"Take this off," he said in a deep, lust-edged voice. Obeying, Faye sat up and pulled the scrap of a dress over her head, tossing it into the corner.
His eyes went dark, looking at her in her lace bra and panties. She felt her pussy lips swelling with arousal as his gaze went to the juncture of her thighs.
She was exquisite, as ever. All hot eyes and soft flesh, musky and sweet, the heady smell of her arousal filling his senses.
Tristan pushed her down onto the bed, reaching behind her to slip the cups of her bra off. He pulled the fabric away and leaned back to take in the sight.
Flushing, Faye looked up at him.
