By the fifth cocktail, I’m decidedly drunk, completely accepted into the group of giggling women, and stumbling on my shoes frequently. I’m glad when familiar strong arms come around my waist from behind, Jake’s husky voice in my hair as he searches out my neck with his mouth.  

“I feel neglected over there, Bella.” He pulls me into his body, molding me against his. Catching the envious and swooning looks from the women I’ve been dancing with, I experience a warm inner ...