Chapter One

Abby stared up at the Hotel Mapleton through the windshield. Her husband Sam had the car still idling, the heater blasting warm air against their feet, while outside, a light sprinkling of snow coated everything in a frosted glaze. Except for the noises of the car, silence surrounded them, giving Abby ample time to have second thoughts.

“You know, we don’t have to go.”

She looked over at Sam, who had just said what she was thinking. Always the picture of practicality, he shrugged and fixed her with his best “It’s only logical” face. It was one of his most common expressions. He smiled, the smile he gave when he was trying to be supportive, another common expression. She’d been looking at this face for ten years now, through three years of dating and seven years of marriage, and the variety of expressions was as familiar as his face itself.

“I know we don’t.” She looked back up at the hotel, where her ten-year college reunion was presumably already underway. Their breath was beginning to fog the windows, even with the heater on, softening the edges of the resplendent building. Still decked out for the holidays, the hotel glistened with white twinkle lights beneath a glaze of snow. Even looking like every New England Christmas photograph, though, its beauty didn’t assuage any of the anxiety tightening her stomach.

Sam gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, his black leather driving gloves slick against the softness of her palm. “We can always go back home. Spend New Year’s on our own, no reunion, no small talk, no explaining to hundreds of people what you’ve been up to for the past ten years.”

Abby swallowed. That would be easy, wouldn’t it? The thought had a certain appeal. She’d become a different person in these last ten years, and not by accident. Bringing Sam into this environment was already merging two worlds never designed to intersect. Did she even want to be here? She’d agonized about it when the invitation first came in the mail, accompanied by a flood of old memories, and had eventually decided yes. She’d had reasons.

“The car’s not even off,” Sam added. “I could just put it back in drive.”

Abby started to laugh. “You know, if you don’t want to go, you could just say that.”

“Hey, I don’t mind.” Sam put his hands up in a defensive gesture. “I’m happy to go. I’m just saying, you have options.”

“I know. I know I have options.” The choice was hers, obviously.

“I’m looking forward to it, to tell you the truth.” Sam rubbed his chin, contemplative. “A glimpse of college Abby? It’s like spotting a rare bird.”

Abby snorted. “A dodo, maybe.”

“An extinct bird?” Sam gaped comically. “That’s even more remarkable.”

Laughing, Abby shoved him. “You know what I mean. I was kind of a dumbass back then.” She twined her fingers together in her lap.

“You? Never.” Sam’s warm smile was too open, not a trace of guile in sight. He really believed this, too. He believed there was no way Abby could be other than the person she was now: mature, respectable Abby Wood Burke, who could have fun but would never go too far. A woman with class, who could be playful but would never be too raunchy, a woman with a good head on her shoulders.

Basically, the opposite of everything she was back in college.

If they left and went home now, Sam would know her only as the woman she’d worked so hard to be, not as the wild young woman she once was. Sure, he’d had hints of it: he knew she’d had a number of past relationships, for example, but she’d been mum about specifics. Her wild dating history was too wrapped up in the rest of the person she’d been, the person who’d almost ruined her life with careless bad decisions, and she was content to forget those embarrassing memories. Leaving now meant she could keep those secrets for good.

But damn, she’d lost touch with too many people since college, had forgotten too many friendships that might deserve rekindling. She’d been thinking about this reunion ever since they announced it last spring, watched the photos pop up on the Facebook event page, and RSVP’d to that invitation when it had arrived. She’d already weighed the pros and cons. Sam loved her, and he wasn’t going to judge her for her past. She’d made something of herself, had grown up into a respectable woman with a gorgeous, brilliant husband and a successful career. She’d bought a beautiful green dress that highlighted her eyes and the fullness of her curves. She was not about to turn her back on this. Abby Wood never backed down from a challenge, and even now that she was Abby Wood Burke, that quality still remained.

Abby tossed her long red curls back over her shoulder and unfastened her seat belt. “Shut the car off, babe. There’s an open bar with our name on it.”

The main ballroom of the Hotel Mapleton was already crowded, people spilling out into the foyers, laughing and talking loud enough to be heard over the music blasting from inside. The faces were almost familiar, one step past where she could place them, people from her classes who had been acquaintances but not friends. Then, like a picture coming into focus, she started identifying people she’d known well. Students from her dorm, from her art classes, from the clubs she’d joined, one after another everywhere she looked.

“Holy shit, this takes me back.” She grabbed Sam’s arm. He steadied her, like he always steadied her.

“See some people you know?”

“So many.” She scanned the crowd again. “I’m just trying to think of who you need to meet first.”

Sam nudged her. “I think you’ve been spotted.” He gestured to where two guys were rushing over to meet them from across the room.

Phil and James looked so much like their college selves, she could have picked them out anywhere. Phil was still as tall and big as ever, built like a refrigerator and almost as white, carrying a few extra pounds and sporting some glasses but with the same football player body underneath. And James, at Phil’s side, skin flushed pink with probably too much alcohol, looked as proud to be on Phil’s arm as he had the day they’d started dating senior year. He’d cut his hair shorter since then, the curls trimmed down to a manageable length, but otherwise he had the same baby face despite being ten years older.

Phil wrapped Abby up in an embrace that squeezed the air out of her, pulling her away from Sam as he did so. “Holy shit. I can’t believe this.” Phil held her at arm’s length and looked her up and down, grinning. “Abby Wood. Stunning as ever. Is it still Abby Wood?” He looked over at Sam.

“There’s a Burke on there now.” She stepped back and introduced the two. “Phil, this is my husband Sam Burke. Sam, this is Phil Smith and James… I’m sorry, I’m drawing a blank on your last name.”

“Peterson,” James supplied, shaking hands. “Your wife and my husband were roommates way back when.”

“Roommates for one disastrous semester.” Phil laughed uproariously. “Shit, what a bad idea that was! Your wife here almost got me kicked off the football team. Remember that, Abby? The night of the streaking? When the police came?”

Eyebrows raised, Sam looked to Abby for an explanation. “What?”

“No. Really?” She grasped for the memory through the annals of the past. She’d had so many encounters with campus security and the local police, they all ran together. “I swear, I don’t remember that.”

“Hand to God.” Phil elbowed James. “This was before you knew me. This girl holds a raging kegger during finals week. Our apartment is barely a block from the edge of campus. Middle of the party, she convinces me to go streaking.”

“Wait. Wait a minute.” Abby shook her head. The details were starting to come back. “If I remember, you didn’t take much convincing. You were always halfway naked at any given time.”

Phil paused. “Okay, true. True. But you definitely put me up to it, saying you’d do it if I would.”

Oh, shit. It was this story. Abby started to hold up a hand to stop him, but Phil just kept going. “So you go, run butt-ass naked through the center of campus and back, everybody loves it, right? I mean, obviously. And I get literally one block from our home and the cops pull up, arrest me. Coach was furious. I spent the next two weeks running suicides.”

Phil was already laughing before the end of his story, and James joined in along with Sam, leaving Abby standing there chuckling. Ah, shit, that wasn’t exactly the way she’d wanted to open this reunion. They were supposed to ease in with some of the less disastrous stories, not her running bare-ass naked through campus.

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “You never told me this. Streaking on campus?”

“That’s not even the half of it.” Phil shook his head. “We should get drinks. Come on, James, give me a hand. What can I grab for you two?”

“Um. Wine? Whatever red they have. Thanks.” Abby looked to Sam, who asked for the same.

“Wine?” Phil shook his head. “Damn, things really do change, don’t they?”

He disappeared a moment later toward the bar with their drink order, leaving them alone, and Abby exhaled shakily. “Okay, so, you might get your wish for some stories about me.”

“Yeah, I’m picking up on that.” Sam grinned, his expression teasing and not at all upset. Thank God. He managed to always look so put together, with his wavy dark hair and perfect jawline, clean-shaven for the occasion, filling out a slim-cut suit with only a hint of those beautiful, lean CrossFit muscles. He cleaned up like a GQ advertisement. This wasn’t the kind of man who probably went streaking in college, or who dated a few dozen people in a long string of short-term relationships that never went anywhere, or who had nearly flunked out of college by being an irresponsible fuckup. She knew Sam’s past. He was the valedictorian of his high school class, studied architecture at Cornell on a near full ride, and was now a star architect in his firm. He was settled, professional, brilliant, and for some reason that occasionally eluded her, madly in love with her, and they’d somehow ended up in a romance and marriage that was—without a doubt—the best thing to ever happen to her.

“Hey.” Sam shook her by the shoulders. “You tuning out on me? Earth to Abby.”

“I’m sorry.” Abby flashed him her best flirtatious grin. “I was just thinking how gorgeous you are.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, a likely story. Probably thinking of more of your college adventures that you’ve been keeping from me.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“For your own good, I swear.” Abby gestured to the buffet. “I think you’re in for the long haul of stories about me getting into trouble. You want to go get some food to go with these drinks?”

Sam laughed. “You’re damn right I do.”

They brought plates of finger foods over to a table with Phil and James. She obviously wanted to see more people at this reunion than just those two, but they were a nice place to start, since Phil had been a good friend on and off throughout her years at school. At least most of the stories Phil could tell would be stories about parties. He was gay, so they’d never slept together, and hopefully they could avoid that entire realm of Abby’s past altogether.

Phil handed a glass of wine to each of them. “So tell me about yourself, Sam. What do you do? How did you and Abby meet? How long have you been married?”

“Babe.” James put a hand on Phil’s arm. “Give it a rest, all right? Let them get a word in edgewise.”

“I’m an architect at Dooney, right here in Mapleton.” Sam sipped his wine. He looked totally at ease here, even though he didn’t know a single person, and Abby could fall in love with him all over again. “Abby and I met at a pottery class she was teaching at the community center. It turns out I’m shit at pottery, but I had the hots for the teacher, and we’ve been together ever since. Married seven years this coming April.”

“You do pottery?” James asked Abby.

Phil tapped his finger on the table, looking like the memories were slowly coming back. “Yeah, you were an art major, right?”

“Still doing pottery. Just as a hobby now, though. Not really interested in making a living at it. Finest way to ruin a hobby is to turn it into a job.” Abby had definitely sat at that crossroads for a while after her junior year internship, looking at an art degree in a field that she had been slowly starting to hate. “I switched majors, and now I’m an MRI tech. Learned to love art again when I didn’t have to do it full time.” She raised her glass in a toast. “You two have been together since college?”

“Straight through. Ten years now.” Phil made love eyes at James, which was adorable. “We got married basically right out of college.”

“And, great news.” James pulled out his phone, tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration as he scrolled through pictures. He triumphantly turned his phone around to show them a photo of a toddler, all large blue eyes and too much curly hair. “This is Liam. We’ve just been approved to adopt him.”

They cooed over the adorable baby, and that shifted the conversation more to James and Phil, their jobs, their struggles buying a house, the minutiae of life going from age twenty-two to thirty-two as they grew into full adulthood. She’d grown into full adulthood, too, mostly by cutting ties with her college self and starting anew with Sam, and sitting here bridged the divide in a weird way. As conversation waned, their plates emptied, and finally Abby turned to Sam.

“I love this song. Do you want to dance?”

Sam knew she didn’t love this song, but he could also take a hint, so with a cordial goodbye to Phil and James, they made their way out to the dance floor, and he swept her smoothly into his arms.

They didn’t go dancing often enough. They’d gone a lot in the beginning of their relationship, when they were younger and searching for any signs of nightlife in and around small-town Mapleton. Dancing to house music, ballroom, salsa, they’d gone wherever they could find a steady beat and a lively crowd. But life became ever busier, and dancing—like many things—faded over time. His body pressed against hers conjured up all kinds of memories from their younger years.

“So why am I really dancing with you?” he asked. “I thought you liked those guys.”

She smiled. Sam was clearly not fooled. “I did. I do.” Back at the table, Phil and James were already in conversation with someone else. “I just wanted some space.”

Sam turned and dipped her easily, guiding her through a samba that somehow fit perfectly to this pop ballad. “You worried I’m going to keep finding out more about this bare-ass running career of yours?”

Abby tipped her head forward onto Sam’s chest and started laughing, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I can’t believe that came up. I swear to God, I haven’t done that lately.”

Sam squeezed her hand, prompting her to look up again. “We all change. I think that’s pretty normal.” His voice, low and smooth, soothed whatever nerves had cropped up during the conversation. The man didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body. He was a man of convictions and principles, but he could identify guile in anyone else, and especially in her. “Is this kind of stuff the reason you never talk much about college?”

“You know the important things. You know I dated a lot, that I wasn’t ready to settle down, and that all changed when I met you.” Everything he needed to know, really, and he’d never pried.

“Babe, you know I don’t care what you got up to in college.” He twirled her around once, surprising her into more laughter, and pulled her back to him again. “I love the person you are now. It doesn’t matter who you were back then.”

“Easy for you to say. You were a Boy Scout.”

Sam’s expression turned serious, but the kind of serious that was comical in its intensity. He even stopped dancing, holding her at arm’s length. “Abby Wood Burke, I need to know this right now. Back in college, did you kill a man?”

Abby burst out laughing, heart suddenly full. He could always make her laugh. “I did. That’s what I’ve been keeping from you.”

“I knew it.” He shook his head in disappointment. “You going to prison is really going to put a damper on this New Year’s.” He dropped a chaste kiss on her lips before sweeping her into the dance again. This was textbook for Sam; he wasn’t a PDA kind of guy, and for all his jokes, he was pretty serious underneath. She loved that about him. She’d been drawn to his seriousness from the very beginning. Even when they were first dating, he’d been so respectful of her, never wanting to push her boundaries, until she’d practically had to drag him to bed. She’d landed herself one of the good ones. It had all felt so tentative back then, a relationship with someone she could see a future with, back when she was still trying to muddle her way into adulthood.

Over Sam’s shoulder, the crowd parted, and another familiar face came into view. She froze, body going suddenly motionless like she couldn’t convince it to move. She must have gone pale, because Sam’s response was all concern. “What? Are you okay?”

Across the dance floor, a familiar figure strolled out of the crowd. His name and a score of memories both came flooding back all at once. Zachary Levine, tall and bronze, always leaving conversations half finished because of swim team practice or a lifeguarding gig. Zach, who she’d never fucked but had wanted to, Zach of so many near misses, privy to all her wildest days.

He looked just as good as he had back in college. He was still tall and golden brown, with light hair that probably still lightened up in the summer. He still had that swimmer’s long, lean body with an impossibly broad smile, and wild curly hair that spoke to his biracial ethnicity. He even had freckles like her, darker constellations scattered across his skin. He made eye contact with her across the crowded dance floor and started coming their way.

Abby looked to Sam, like he might somehow be able to help, which was ridiculous. “It’s Zach,” she said, like that would explain anything at all.

His eyebrows went up even more. “Okay? You know I don’t know who the hell any of these people are.”

“Zachary Levine. He was on my floor back in freshman and sophomore year. He dated my roommate for a while, and then he…” She trailed off as he closed the distance, all warm smiles that brought up the same giddy nervousness of her youth.

“Abby Wood!”

Abby stepped out of Sam’s embrace, and Zach swept her up into a hug, already laughing, his body so warm against hers. He still smelled the same, kind of, and she didn’t even know she’d remember his scent until she was breathing it in. Zach held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. “Holy shit, Abby, you look amazing. It can’t have been ten years. You look as young as when we graduated.”

“It’s been ten years.” She gestured to her husband, fumbling her words. “This is Zach. Sam. This is Sam, my husband.” She moved her arm up and down, like a high-speed Vanna White showing off the latest prize puzzle. “Sam, this is Zachary Levine. We were friends back in college.”

Zach shook Sam’s hand, warm and cordial. “You lucky bastard. I didn’t think anyone could get Abby to settle down.”

“Me?” Like hell she was going to take that slander. “You dated pretty much the whole floor!” She turned to Sam. “Listen. I may have had my own wild days in college, but Zach puts them to shame.”

“Oh really?” Sam grinned, probably happy he was going to get these wild tales after all. “Come on, Zach, maybe you can tell me some stories. Abby keeps dragging me away from everyone who might be able to dish the dirt.”

Zach’s laugh, loud and free like it always had been, took her right back to the crush she’d nursed for him for years. They were always passing like ships in the night, Zach moving from relationship to relationship, never single at the same time she was. “Let’s grab a table and a drink.”

Zach left for the bar, and Abby grabbed Sam’s arm. “Come on. Go easy on me.”

“Okay, okay, I’m not gonna pump him for information.” Sam held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“Fine. One drink.” She pulled him toward the bar after Zach. “And if I ask you to dance again, we go.”

…

Abby was pretty jumpy tonight. It was just a reunion, and she’d been looking forward to going, or so Sam had thought. But ever since they’d gotten here, she’d vacillated between loud and shy, shifting from the composed, put-together, brilliant woman he loved, to some kind of unrecognizable version of herself, in turns raucous and uncertain, trying out different emotions like shoes.

Now, though, three drinks into an increasingly laughter-filled conversation with Zach, she was back to the confident self he’d remembered. They hadn’t actually told any stories of the past yet, just stuff about their current lives. Zach told them about his years in the Coast Guard, living down in Florida, and moving back to the area just last year.

“Western Mass, can’t stay away.” Zach shrugged. “My company offered me a relocation deal too good to pass up. I’m on the road almost a hundred nights a year, but I don’t mind.”

“The hospitality industry suits you,” Abby said with a smile. “You certainly seemed hospitable enough to our entire dorm.”

Zach threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, that’s fair, that’s fair.”

Sam still couldn’t tell if Abby had slept with Zach. He wasn’t going to ask, not yet, anyway, but couldn’t stop the curiosity. It wasn’t jealousy. It was something else, something totally different from jealousy, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Zach was a handsome man, and thinking of him with Abby, for some reason, wasn’t unpleasant at all. Maybe he’d secretly been hoping the stories would go there, a tantalizing hint of a wild Abby hidden inside the familiar Abby he loved.

They moved on to talking about Sam’s career, and then how he and Abby had met. She told the story better than he did, about him losing control of his vase in the middle of the class and hitting her with a chunk of clay just as she was coming over to compliment him on his progress. It was a funny story, one he didn’t mind even though he came off looking a little silly, and hearing Abby tell it was always a delight.

Zach laughed. “Did you tell him it would take a few more drinks to get you into mud wrestling?”

Abby wobbled her wine and snorted. “I did not.”

Zach put a hand to his head. “Do you remember that time?”

“What time?” Abby giggled.

“Mud wrestling in the quad for the Orchard Games. Freshman, sophomore year?”

Abby held up her glass. “I was motherfucking Orchard Mud Champion. Of course I remember.” She toasted herself and drank.

“You mud wrestled?” Sam stared, trying to wrap his mind around it. Mud wrestling? Who actually did that? Abby, apparently. His Abby. Sure, she was playful, but that…was a whole different level of playful.

Zach jumped in before she could answer. “You should have seen it. She was like an Olympian.” He paused, expression going thoughtful. “Your hair was blue back then, right?”

“Blue?” Sam turned more fully in his chair. He couldn’t picture Abby without her long, beautiful red hair.

“Don’t remind me.” She finished her glass of wine. “Bleaching it almost ruined it. Part of my wild, rebellious phase.”

“You mean, the one that lasted all four years of college?” Zach teased, nudging her with his elbow.

“Please.” Abby threw her napkin at Zach, but her smile wobbled a little. “Don’t exaggerate.”

“You should be proud of your legacy.” Zach’s expression was earnest. “I think you’re the only person to accomplish the full Campus Twenty.”

Abby’s normally pale skin went white, her freckles standing out even more, and she covered her face with her hands. “Oh God.”

Sam shouldn’t ask. She was clearly embarrassed, but underneath her hands, was she…laughing? She pulled her hands away, and yeah, she was laughing even as her pale skin flushed red.

So he had to ask. “What’s the Campus Twenty?”

Zach raised an eyebrow to Abby. “You want to tell him?”

Abby tipped her head back to stare up at the ceiling of the ballroom, then looked over to Sam and said the next words all in a rush. “Twenty public spots on campus to fool around without getting caught.”

“Oh.”

What was he supposed to say, other than “oh”? So she’d fooled around in public before. That wasn’t even such a big deal. It wasn’t something he had ever done, but Abby was always more adventurous than him. It wasn’t like that was a surprise. He’d followed the straight and narrow all the way through college, and she’d had some…indiscretions.

“It wasn’t anything,” Abby insisted. “Just some hand jobs, maybe a blow job, some stupid shit we did when we were young and dumb.”

Zach raised his glass to her, then looked her up and down once more. What must Abby look like through his eyes? All soft curves, the plunging neckline of her dress revealing the generous swell of her breasts, as tantalizing as she had been ten years ago. “Well, not we,” he clarified. “Not you and me.”

Zach and Abby hadn’t slept together. For some reason, that disappointed Sam, which was weird. He could nearly picture it, though. Abby and Zach, laughing together, getting caught up in breathless kisses, fooling around somewhere on campus where they might get caught…

It was enough to get him half hard, an unexpected reaction. He wanted to know more. “So you hit all twenty?”

“Yes. I hit all twenty.” She sounded resigned. “But really, I’m not that girl anymore.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know.” Sam tried to choose his words carefully. “I think it’s funny.” Not funny, but arousing, and yet he couldn’t say that with Zach right here listening. Could he even say it at all? How would Abby receive that? She wasn’t the type to kiss and tell, and this line of conversation was clearly making her a little uncomfortable. They should probably change the subject.

“Yeah. Funny.” Abby drained her glass of wine.

Zach looked past them. “Shit, is that Heather? I haven’t seen her in forever.” He put his hand over Abby’s. “I’ve gotta run. It’s been so good to see you. Look me up sometime, okay? I’d love to get together.” He squeezed her hand, then shook Sam’s. “Great meeting you, Sam. We’ll have to talk soon.” He left Abby and Sam alone at the table with the silence left in his absence.

“You know, I really don’t mind it,” Sam said after another awkward moment of silence.

“Do you know what my nickname was back in college?” Abby ran a finger around the lip of her empty wineglass. She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Abby Wood If She Could. Because of stuff like that. Mud wrestling. Dyeing my hair. Streaking. The Campus Twenty. I was the girl who would do anything. How do you really feel about that?”

“Curious?”

Abby rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to placate me, Sam.”

“I just want to know why you never told me.” He couldn’t keep the hurt tone out of his voice, even though it was slight.

“Because the past is the past. I’m not that person anymore.”

She’d been saying that all night, insisting that she’d changed, and clearly she had. Over the almost ten years they’d been together, he’d never seen any sign of this wild woman from college. “Why aren’t you that person anymore?”

That clearly wasn’t the question she’d been expecting, and she stared at him before averting her eyes. “I grew out of it.”

“All at once?”

Her expression grew somber. “I knew it was time to change when that hit man came after me.”

Sam stared at her, not sure what to believe, until Abby cracked up laughing. He joined her, the tension easing. Okay, so she didn’t want to explain further. He held out his hand. “Come on. You want to dance?”

Abby got to her feet, wobbly, and grabbed at him for support. “Whoa. All that wine just hit me at once.”

Sam slid an arm around her waist. “I don’t know how you walk in those heels.”

“It’s fashion.” She smiled up at him, her smile kind of lazy, the way she always got with a bit of wine in her. “Maybe I should get some air instead. You want to get some fresh air with me?”

“It’s below freezing out there.”

“We’ll get our coats. Come on.” She tugged him toward the hall.

Even with his coat on, it was damn freezing outside, and he stayed close to Abby as they walked out onto the big back deck of the hotel. The deck was clearly not used often in winter, snow blown loosely against the wall behind them, large potted evergreens looming dark instead of wrapped in twinkle lights like the rest of the decor on the building. With only the light filtering through the window and nothing but darkness in the field behind, everything was a mass of shadows. Abby walked over to the corner and gripped the wooden railing, seeming unbothered by the cold, and stared out into the deepness of the night. The music was still audible out here, a muted pulse in the otherwise silent evening.

They both turned as the door burst open and a couple came tumbling out, laughing, already in the clinch of an embrace. They didn’t even check for other people, lips meeting, hands sliding over bodies. Abby and Sam, as one, both moved deeper into the shadows of the building.

Abby grabbed Sam’s arm, speaking just loud enough that he could hear. “We should go.”

“We can’t. They’re right in front of the door.” He pulled her closer back against him, her body tight in front of his as they tried to shrink back into the shadows against the building.

The other couple stood less than fifteen feet away, kissing as if they couldn’t get enough of each other. They shifted slightly, leaning against the railing, and a shaft of light from the window fell across the man’s face. Abby’s whole body went taut. It was Zach. Zach was out here with a woman from the party, a woman who was slipping her hands down into his pants.

It was definitely too late to escape now. If they gave themselves away, Zach and his partner were going to ask why they didn’t reveal themselves sooner. The only answer, that they were peeping from the shadows like perverts, wasn’t going to go over well. Fortunately, Zach and his partner were making enough noise to hide other sounds.

“Fuck, Heather.”

Heather laughed, deep and throaty, leaning in for another kiss. “Haven’t gotten my hands on you since college. Just like old times, huh?”

“Shh. Keep it down.” Zach was smiling as he spoke. “We’re gonna get caught.”

All along the front of Sam’s body, Abby’s curves pressed warm and soft against him. Something about her closeness, the tension of the moment, the heat of what they were watching, and he was fully hard before he felt it happening. Abby shifted, hips pressing against his cock, and then froze.

They’d been drinking, and hell, it was New Year’s, and he’d been having naughty thoughts all night. Maybe he could indulge them, just a little bit. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It’s hot, isn’t it?”

Abby hesitated before nodding.

Her breasts were so close to his hand. He’d never do something like this normally, never risk getting caught, but the blood thundering in his body obscured other thought.

Abby gasped as Sam cupped her full, round breast, the sound drowned out by another of Zach’s moans. Then she pressed even farther in to his hand. Damn. Pulse racing, cock already throbbing, he slid his hand under the deep neckline of her dress and found the hard peak of her nipple beneath the flimsy material of her bra.

“Sam,” she whispered.

“Shh.” He rolled the tip between his fingers, making her shiver. “Doesn’t it make you hot?”

She paused, and then slowly nodded again. He was harder and more turned on than he could remember being before, and all he was doing was playing lightly with her nipple. Of course, they were in public, watching another couple fooling around right in front of them, and they’d certainly never been in this situation before.

Zach lifted Heather onto the railing of the deck, and Abby shivered. Heather giggled loudly. “It’s freezing!”

Zach kissed her again, moving between her legs, and Heather’s giggles switched to moans. Zach fumbled around with something in his pocket, then he heard the telltale sound of a condom wrapper. Had Sam ever watched someone have sex before? No, actually. He wasn’t even that into porn, because it was all so fake. This, though? This was totally different. Zach shifted forward into the cradle of Heather’s thighs, and she moaned low and breathlessly as he slid into her.

Sam was going to combust right here. Even with the freezing temperatures, sweat beaded on his forehead. One hand still cupping her breast, he reached the other down, under the hem of Abby’s skirt, trailing his fingers up along the inside of her thighs. This was too far, too risky, too much, and she was going to stop him any minute now, surely…

Instead, Abby moved her legs farther apart, granting permission. He brushed the top of stockings, then bare skin, acres of bare skin, and instead of the line of her panties…the soft, slick wetness of her pussy.

She wasn’t wearing underwear. He couldn’t even question it, because his hand was right where he wanted it to be, and he dipped into her hot, wet heat to find the bud of her clit nestled among all that softness.

Abby shuddered in his arms. “Sam,” she breathed, but it wasn’t a protest, something broken and desperate in her whisper. Jesus. He’d never heard her sound like that. The space was snug, her thighs tight around his hand, and she was so damn wet already. She’d gotten wet watching them.

“I like watching this,” he whispered again into her ear. And maybe this was too far, but he was going to say it anyway. “I like imagining you like that.”

She swore under her breath, wobbling in his arms, and he held her tighter against him as he fingered her clit. “Does this make you hot?” He needed to hear her say it, needed to know it wasn’t just him.

“Yes.” She leaned back against him, letting him support her, her head resting heavily on his collarbone. “God, Sam, what if we get caught?”

He nipped her earlobe. She was absolutely drenching his fingers. Leaning a bit farther forward, he could reach deeper, moving past her clit to curl two fingers into her welcoming pussy. If only it could be his dick right now, fucking into her the way Zach was fucking into Heather: short, blunt thrusts that had her moaning. This would have to do, the heel of his hand grinding into her clit. “We’re not gonna get caught. Unless you like the idea of that.”

She shuddered again. Maybe he was onto something. “You like that, don’t you?” He didn’t need to ask. “You like the thought of someone seeing us.”

“Don’t be silly.” Abby’s voice was still barely audible, a whisper, but he knew this woman. He knew when she was lying, and the scenario started spilling from his mouth before he even knew what he was saying.

“Imagine someone watching us the way we’re watching them. You like that? You think of that, all those times when you were fooling around on campus? Hmm? You think about being watched?”

Pressed against him, Abby began to tremble, her pussy tightening impossibly on his fingers. She never came this easily, but here on the freezing cold deck watching someone else have sex, she was already on the edge, already rocking her hips minutely against his hand.

“I want you to come, just like this.” He ground his palm harder into her sensitive flesh, rewarded by the tiny moan she let slip. “Shh. No sounds. Don’t let them hear us. Come on my hand, beautiful.”

She gripped the arm he had wrapped around her, fingernails digging into his skin. And with a sudden, nearly imperceptible intake of breath, she came, her muscles rippling around his fingers. His cock throbbed in his pants, aching for release, aching for her touch, but he could forget all of that in the incredible feeling of making her come on his fingers.

In the fog of Abby’s climax, Sam could hear Zach murmuring to Heather. “That’s it, gorgeous. Just like that. I want to feel you come.”

Heather was less reserved, her voice regular volume as she swore and prayed and repeated his name. Just as Heather seized up and cried out, Abby sagged in Sam’s arms, her climax ebbing.

Sam carefully slid his fingers out of Abby’s wet folds and up to his mouth. She turned in his arms in time to see him suck her juices off his fingers, and in the dim light, her eyes went wide and her mouth opened slightly. She stepped in to him and kissed him, kissing her own taste from his mouth. Then, without other preamble, she dropped down to her knees and unzipped his pants.

He’d never gotten a blow job in public before. No fumbling foreplay in the backseat of his car, no clandestine fooling around in college. Now, though, Abby was wrapping her hot, wet mouth all the way down his length while just beyond their shadowy alcove, Zach was finishing with a low groan inside Heather. Abby moved like a woman possessed, swallowing him down. She’d never sucked him off like this, never with this kind of fervor. This was all new. What else had he been missing? What else was she hiding from him, and why?

He couldn’t even warn her before he was coming. Climax ripped through him, pleasure like a punch in the gut. He bit his knuckles to stay silent, emptying himself down Abby’s throat. She sucked and sucked, swallowing, not missing a drop, and he grabbed at the wall of the building to steady himself. Dimly, he heard Zach and Heather laughing, saw the fumbled recovery of their post-coital encounter, closing his eyes at last as the door back inside slammed shut behind them.

“Fuck.” He finally said it at full volume, his dick softening in Abby’s warm mouth. She got to her feet, looking way too satisfied with herself. God, he loved her. He leaned in to kiss her, tasting them both. “What the hell,” he breathed.

She tucked him back into his pants and zipped them up. “What got into you?” she asked, her smile tentative.

What got into him? What about her? “Just…caught up in the moment, I guess.”

“Right.” She licked her lips. “Do I look like a whore?”

I’d like it if you did. The thought came to mind immediately, shockingly, and he pushed it away. “Of course not.”

“C’mon.” She gestured to the door. “It’s fucking freezing out here. Let’s go dance.”