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Maya looks like she’s having fun too. She’s matching me drink for drink, which is pretty impressive since I’m so much larger than she is. As usual, she’s extroverted and the life of the party, dancing and chatting with everyone like she’s always been part of us. Maybe she has and neither of us knew it yet.

Eventually, a slow song comes on, and she moves into my arms effortlessly. She rests the side of her face against my chest as we sway and for the first time it occurs to me that I’m…happy. Not just content or on a hockey-related high—genuinely, completely happy. Shandy has become more of a distant memory than a painful reality, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I felt like this about anyone.

“You’ve started to change my mind about dancing,” I whisper against her hair.

“I think it was Blaze,” she murmurs with a soft chuckle. “He got you in touch with your inner dancer.”

“You got me in touch with my inner romantic,” I counter.

She nestles a little closer. “I love that.”

I almost tell her how I feel about her.

Almost.

This isn’t the right time.

I don’t know why but we’re drunk and surrounded by people. When I’m ready to say those special words, it’ll be just the two of us.

Sensing a change in the tempo of the evening, the DJ plays a few slow songs in a row and as I look around, I realize the party has begun to slow down. People have left, and those remaining are couples, all doing something similar to what Maya and I are doing. Dancing. Kissing. A lot of eye gazing. Even our married friends appear to be as enamored with each other as ever.

West and Serena.

Viktor and Holly.

Even Coach Teller and his husband, Viggo.

Marriage can be good for a relationship. Mine wasn’t but that’s because Shandy wasn’t the right woman. Maya is different, in every way. From her pink and purple hair to her fierce independence to the way she seems to love everyone—and they love her back.

I dig my fingers into the hair at the back of her neck and tug until her head is tilted at the perfect angle for me to kiss her. Her lips taste like cherry and whatever the hell was in that damn cauldron. Warm. Delicious. She slides her tongue between my lips and presses her body flush to mine.

At this point, we’re very in tune with each other physically.

I recognize the glint in her eyes when she wants to go down on me.

She understands the different ways I touch her—when I’m simply enjoying the contact and when I want to strip her down and take her right then and there.

And we both recognize the moments when we want each other but aren’t in a position to do anything about it.

Her sigh is breathy, filled with both need and amusement. “We could sneak into a bathroom,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“Uh huh.” I nip her lower lip, tugging it. “Or go out to the pool area. I don’t think anyone’s out there.”

I feel more than hear the catch of her breath.

“You think West and Serena want us to fuck on their patio?”

“I think what they don’t know won’t hurt anyone.” I skim my hand down her back, gently squeezing when I get to her ass. “You ever had sex in a hot tub?”

“Made out, yes. Not actual intercourse.”

“You want to?”

“I want you.” Her eyes have that same intensity they always do when I touch her.

Taking her hand, we make our way outside. West and Serena are still inside dancing. Felix is out cold on one of the lounge chairs. Coach and Viggo are in the pool and though I don’t look too closely, I’m fairly certain they don’t have clothes on. They’re also making out.

Otherwise, the patio is deserted.