23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter twenty-three
Kennedy
Thick and warm air wraps around me like a blanket as we step out of the penthouse elevator. The island feels so still, almost eerie, without the usual sounds of tourists. I still can’t get used to a vacant resort. The clanking sounds of construction that fill the day can be heard in the distance as crews work around the clock. But right here, it’s just us, the quiet hum of nature, and the soft rustle of palm leaves in the breeze. I breathe in the salty air, the scent of the ocean filling my lungs and the slight masculine smell from Tristan’s cologne floods my senses as I try to ignore the nerves twisting in my stomach.
The path beneath my sandals is hard against my feet as we walk, the faint sound of our footsteps the only noise breaking the silence. His hand brushes mine, just barely, but it’s enough to send a spark along my skin. Every time he touches me, it’s like a fire ignites in my chest, and I’m not sure if it’s the island heat or just him.
Probably him.
I glance over, his laid-back island vibe evident in the way he’s dressed—khaki shorts, a loose button-up shirt left half undone, and those damn Birkenstocks. It’s casual, but it looks so good on him. Too good . He walks with an easy swagger, the same that’s always had me on edge since we started working together. The tension between us is undeniable, simmering just beneath the surface, and tonight…I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep myself from falling into it completely.
“ Don’t overthink it, ” Lana told me on the phone a few hours ago. “ Just go with it. Get out of your head .”
It’s not that simple, though, is it? How do I just let go of all the worries, the doubts, the fear that maybe I shouldn’t want this as much as I do? But then I feel his arm brush against mine again, and I think maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need to let go.
Glancing up once more, I find his gaze locked on mine, as if he were waiting for me to look at him again. There’s a softness around the edges of his eyes—a sexy smirk toys on his face. This version of Tristan is my favorite Tristan. The island life looks good on him.
Smiling, I bite the corner of my lip, and I swear I hear the man growl.
I’m wearing a dress that’s a little more daring than I’d usually choose—something tropical, sexy, and fitted just enough to make me feel bold. The dark green fabric clings to my body in all the right places, and I feel his eyes on me as we walk, his gaze lingering on the hem as it sways with each step. It makes my skin tingle, and I bite back a smile, trying to play it cool, even though my heart is racing.
“You’re killing me, Firecracker.” His words are deep and send a vibration through me. I feel him rake over my body as he inhales deeply before casting his gaze forward.
We reach the edge of the property, and the bar comes into view, its neon sign flickering in the dim light. It’s small, the kind of place locals hang out at, and even from here, I can hear the raucous strains of music drifting through the open walls. The lights inside are soft and warm, and there’s a buzz of energy that makes my stomach flutter with excitement. Or maybe it’s the nerves again.
As we step across the empty parking lot, I glance at him from the corner of my eye, catching a lazy smile on his face. He’s in his element, comfortable and confident, and I envy how easy it seems for him. Meanwhile, my mind races, and my thoughts are a jumble. What am I doing? I’m supposed to be working, supposed to be keeping things professional, but all I want to do is give in to the pull between us. My friend’s voice echoes in my head again: Get out of your head.
Tristan reaches down, and my fingers automatically intertwine with his as we move closer to the lively bar. With a gentle tug, he pulls me to his front as he steps behind me, and we enter the bar. Inside the bar is exactly what I expected—a local dive, half walls separating the inside from the outside, tables scattered around with just a handful of people sitting at them. The stage in the corner has a microphone, and I realize, with a thrill, that it’s karaoke night.
“Karaoke,” I say with a growing grin. I can’t help it—this is exactly the kind of distraction I need.
He chuckles and shakes his head. His lips find the shell of my ear as goosebumps erupt at his nearness. “Don’t even think about it.”
The crowd cheers for the current singer, who’s belting out a song that’s way out of their range, but the energy in the room is contagious. For a moment, I forget about the tension, about everything that’s been weighing on me.
“I’ll get the drinks. You grab us a table,” he says, giving me a playful nudge toward the seating area.
I nod, smiling as I slip through the tables, finding one near the back, but still close enough to the stage. Sitting down, I smooth my dress over my legs and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The cool plastic of the chair feels good against my skin, grounding me as I try to gather myself.
When he returns with two beers, I take one, our fingers brushing in that electric way, and I can’t help but look at him as I sip from the bottle. His hand lingers just a little too long, and my heart skips a beat. Every touch between us is charged with something I’m not sure I can ignore much longer. Maybe I don’t want to.
We drink, listening to the locals take the stage one by one. Some of them are surprisingly good, others…not so much, but everyone’s having a good time, clapping and cheering, regardless of talent. I laugh more than I have in days, my stress melting away with each swig of beer.
Tonight is everything I didn’t know I needed. At some point, Tristan moved his chair closer, erasing the space between us. His tan arm wraps around my shoulder and rests on the back of my chair. The weight of his arm is strong and warm, settling as if it belongs there. The rough pad of his thumb traces slow, absent circles on my bare skin, each motion sending shivers along my spine.
I glance up at him, expecting to catch his eyes, but he’s focused, watching the singer with that casual ease I envy. The bright lights of the stage glimmer across his face, casting shadows along his sharp jaw. I want to pepper that jaw with kisses and feel the stubble against my delicate skin.
He’s leaning back in his seat, legs spread wide in that infuriatingly attractive way men seem to own without even trying, everything about him content. He’s completely at ease, like this—like us—is the most natural thing in the world. But every brush of his thumb tells a different story, one that makes it harder to breathe.
“This place is really cool.” My eyes scan around the bar and land on a group of locals throwing darts.
“You ever play?”
Turning my head, I find Tristan watching the same group. “Darts were never my thing. Pool, I can play, but not darts.”
He hums as he brings his bottle to his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His tongue peeks out as he licks the drop that escapes. My thighs clench at the idea of his tongue on me again.
“I never would have pegged you for a pool shark.”
“I’m full of surprises, baby,” I say playfully, flashing him a wink. His chuckle rolls warmly over me like the waves crashing on a nearby shore—powerful and soothing.
“Yes, you are, Firecracker. So many surprises.” Tristan’s husky voice is like velvet as his smooth lips land on my skin. He trails soft kisses around my collarbone and higher up my neck before he’s sucking my flesh between his teeth. With a gentle bite, he laps at the mark before he’s pulling away, and I’m fighting the moan desperate to break free. Then he moves fluidly and positions himself in the same casual manspread, as if nothing just happened.
Meanwhile, I’m a soaked, achy mess, waiting to be devoured. His arm finds the back of my chair as his thumb resumes rubbing against my skin.
“Is this everything you ever wanted?” His question causes me to pause as I look over at him.
My face scrunches with confusion. “What do you mean? ”
“Your dream of being an architect. Is this everything you imagined it would be?”
I stare out in front of me as I watch the guy sing a terrible rendition of “Dancing Queen.” “Did I imagine that the company I thought I was going to make me senior architect, with the promise to be chief architect in the next two years, would be swallowed up by my college rival family business? No, this isn’t everything I imagined it would be.”
Tristan’s shoulders slump in the seat next to me.
“But I can’t imagine it any other way. Turns out, I missed fighting with you.”
I feel his deep chuckle reverberate through my body. “Is that so?”
A smile spreads across my face as I nod. I really did miss this. Not only does competing with Tristan fuel my desire to win and be the best, but it gives me a spark of joy.
By the time we’re on our fourth round, I’m feeling the alcohol buzz through my system, my body relaxed in a way that makes everything feel a little lighter as every one of our touches lingers longer than the last.
Then, without warning, the DJ’s voice booms over the speakers. “Next up, Tristan!”
He freezes, his eyes darting to me, and I can’t help my mischievous grin.
“You didn’t...” he starts, but I just shrug, trying to look innocent.
“I might’ve signed you up while I was ‘using the bathroom,’” I say, laughing as he groans, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re trouble,” he mutters. Standing up, he shoots me a playful glare. But there’s a smile on his face, and I can see the excitement flickering in his eyes even though he’s trying to hide it .
I watch as he walks toward the stage, my heart racing for him. I know he’ll be fine—he’s always good at everything he does—but there’s a thrill in seeing him like this, vulnerable in front of a crowd, even if it’s just a handful of locals.
The opening chords of “Party in the USA” start, and Tristan shoots me a scathing look that makes me laugh. The crowd around cheers as they catch on to what song he’s about to sing. Tristan shakes out his shoulders as he takes a deep breath before jumping in. His voice isn’t perfect, but it’s not terrible either, and the crowd seems to love it, clapping and rooting him on like he’s a pro. I can’t take my eyes off him, the way he loosens up as he sings, the way his confidence grows with each note. When he glances at me, eyes locking on to mine, I can’t help but cheer through my laughter. Tossing my arms in the air, I shimmy to the beat as I fully embrace the buzz from the alcohol and the energy radiating around this bar.
When he finally makes his way back to the table, there’s a wild grin on his face, and before I can say anything, he pulls me into a kiss, his lips warm and insistent against mine in a way that has me swooning.
“Payback, baby. Just wait,” he murmurs against my mouth, and I smile, my heart pounding like it’s reaching out to him.
“Bring it on, Golden Boy.”