The Man I Love (The Road Trip #2)

8. Chapter Eight

8

CHAPTER EIGHT

December

Eight Months Earlier

Los Angeles

The entire office was dark when Tristan punched in the numbers for what felt like the hundredth time. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the anxiety in his chest threatening to cut off his circulation.

“It’s not enough?” he whispered to no one at all. “It’s not enough.”

His head fell back to his chair, his feet kicking backward, causing the chair to roll and thud noisily against the wall. The silent echo of his own voice drummed in his head. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. In and out. In and out.

Breathe Montgomery, just breathe.

How did I let this happen? How could I be so stupid?

Montgomery Pool Service had been his life for the past five years. He knew the business like the back of his hand, knew how to budget through winter, economic decline, and just about everything—yet—somehow his entire existence had slipped through his fingers because of a stupid mistake.

“Shit!” He rolled toward his desk and glanced down at the calculator, willing the numbers to somehow be different. But they weren't. The bold black numbers didn’t lie, they didn’t sugarcoat the fact he was failing. He would go under. Possibly in less than a month. He had enough personal funds tucked away for another two—possibly three—but that would mean dipping into his own savings. Money he’d set aside for his future. His and Samantha’s wedding and honeymoon.

Was saving his business worth it?

Samantha’s face popped into his mind, and he let out a breath. This wasn’t the life he’d planned for them. Wasn’t the future he’d always envisioned. A twinge deep inside his chest made him want to crumble on the floor. She deserved so much more than this. She deserved someone who could provide for her, someone she could depend on to take care of her, and if he lost his business, could he even do that?

A knock sounded at the door, and he rose from his seat so quickly that the back of his chair whacked against the wall again. Penny poked her head into his office and switched on the light. “Sorry. I’m taking off. The weather is getting bad, and the boys are afraid of thunder. I just wanted to make sure you don’t need anything before I go?”

He glanced toward the window, noticing it was pouring outside for the first time. His own misery had blinded him to everything else around him. “Nah,” he said in a voice that sounded foreign to his own ears. “Get out of here. Go enjoy your family.”

Her family…

Guilt shook his body, and he braced his hands on his desk to keep himself upright. The mental image of her two small boys made his gut wrench. Losing his business was tough, but losing Penny was even tougher. She had stood by him from the start, back when his office was just a garage with a couple of desks and one truck. He could barely look at her. She was his responsibility. Her family was his responsibility—and he’d failed her too.

Standing in the doorway, she hesitated, her gaze sharp and unwavering, as if she was worried for his health. Like his sister, she seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to his emotions.

“Fred ordered pizza,” she said quietly. “Why don’t you come over. The boys keep askin’ for more stories of your football days.”

Tristan patted the stack of papers on his desk. “Another time, maybe. Too much work tonight.” He smiled halfheartedly, then nodded toward the window. “You be careful out there. Looks like this storm is a rough one.”

Penny’s eyes followed his line of vision toward the window, where large pellets of rain spattered against the glass. “Okay, Tris,” she whispered, but when she turned back again, her eyes were discerning, as if telling him he fooled no one. “Don’t work too hard—” She turned to leave, deliberately leaving his office door open so she could call back, “You look like shit by the way.”

He chuckled.

He waited for her engine to start before returning to his seat. He needed a miracle … and he needed to tell Samantha what was going on before Penny did.

He could tell that Samantha was growing suspicious. Her tone thelast time they spoke was softer, almost coaxing it out of him. He didn’t really blame her. By the time he’d gotten back to the office today, he’d missed a half dozen of her texts. He made up a lie about dropping his phone in a pool, but luckily, he didn’t have to use it; she didn’t answer when he finally called her back.

She deserved better than this.

She deserved better than him.

He took a deep breath, settling his eyes on the center of the room. Without thinking, he pulled the key out of his pocket and opened the drawer on his desk. He reached toward the back, his fingers curling around the small Tiffany blue box he’d put there in July. The solitaire diamond gleamed up at him when he flipped open the lid. Its radiant cut was flawless. His heart lurched to his throat; it felt as though it had been a lifetime ago when he’d bought it.

He’d meant to ask her to marry him the day he drove her to the airport.

He’d rushed home with the ring in his pocket, and it felt heavier than a thousand bricks weighing down his pants. He’d found Sam tearing apart the sofa in their living room.

“I can’t find my wallet,” she’d said. “They won’t let me on the plane without my ID!”

In that moment his only thought was on helping her. “It’s okay baby, don’t worry.”

They tore up the entire living room, only to find it later in the pocket of one of her carry-on bags.

With only an hour and a half to spare, Samantha in near tears, and a frantic drive to LAX ahead of them, they loaded up his truck and headed to the airport. She gripped his hand so tight, his own fingers turned white.

“Maybe it’s a sign that I shouldn’t go. Maybe the universe is telling me something,” she’d said as they sat in traffic.

He thought about the ring in his pocket, thought about how much easier life would be if she stayed. In a moment of pure selfishness, he considered asking her to be his wife right then and there––in traffic, on the 405 freeway, as they rushed to her flight. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She needed his encouragement, not for him to give her another excuse not to leave. Asking her to marry him would have made her feel uneasy about moving to New York and possibly give up on her dreams. There would be a thousand other opportunities in the future. A million distinct moments that would be magical, timeless, and perfect. That hadn’t been the one.

He planned to spend the rest of his life with Samantha.

All his days, and all his nights.

Why rush it when his goal was eternity?

He flicked off the calculator, unaware of how much time had passed while he stared into space. After placing the ring in the drawer and locking it, he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. When the bell chimed in the front office, he lifted his chin. “Pen, is that you?” he called out, strolling into the lobby.

He stopped dead in his tracks, one arm in his coat, when he saw Samantha standing in the doorway. She wore a black hoodie that was soaked to the bone from the rain. Wisps of hair clung to her face, and droplets of water dripped from her nose. Despite her disheveled appearance, she was a mirage to a man who was dying of dehydration. Tristan's heart lurched into his throat and he leaned against the office door to steady himself.

“Do you come here often?” he called out to her, his voice filled with a playful flirtation that he reserved just for her.

Her lips parted ever so slightly as she replied, “Only on random Fridays.”

His cheeks ached from smiling so hard. He crossed his ankles to keep himself from running to her. “Are you looking for anyone in particular?” he asked.

“A sexy beast. Do you know of anyone who fits that description?”

He looked up at the ceiling because she was so damn cute. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what a sexy beast looks like.” He shrugged.

She stepped closer, her feet dragging a little, and her lips curled in a mischievous grin. “He has blue eyes that will steal your soul.”

He nodded and crossed his arms at his chest.

“And a smile that can melt your panties off.”

He grinned. “Is that so?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s one hell of a superpower if you ask me.” He stepped closer, using all his self-restraint to go slow. “I think I might know someone like that,” he continued.

She bit her lip. “If you see him, can you tell him his girlfriend needs him to kiss her?”

He couldn’t take it any longer. He pushed off the doorway, stalked toward her, and lifted her off her feet. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said against her mouth, kissing her in a way that left her weak, and clinging to him for balance.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him so tight that he could feel the trembling in her arms. “I missed you too,” she whispered.

His lips covered hers, warming her with his own mouth.

“You’re freezing.” He pulled away a fraction. “How long have you been out in the rain? How did you even get here?”

“I took an Uber.”

“You could have called me.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

With trembling fingers, he found the zipper of her hoodie and unzipped it, desperate to get her out of her wet clothes as he dragged the fabric down her arms. That’s when he noticed her hair—much shorter and much lighter than he’d ever seen before. He picked up a strand, holding it between his fingertips. “You cut your hair,” he said in a low voice.

It was at that moment he realized how separate their lives had become—and it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“It looked great about an hour ago.” Her posture was sharp. “And when the hell did it start raining in LA, anyway?”

Laughter burst out of him, but he immediately sobered when he took in her expression. She appeared serious—anxious for some reason, as if she needed his approval. The way she looked at him reminded him of the early days of their relationship, when she wore her insecurities on her sleeve.

He took a step backward, summoning all his concentration and willpower to distance himself, and walked around her in a circle. She was braless under that wet T-shirt, and he imagined she’d taken it off on the plane in an effort to get comfortable. All he wanted to do was kiss her again, but he forced himself to concentrate. Her hazel eyes were locked on him, her expression fragile.

He stopped directly in front of her, trying to calm his own heart, as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. It looked like she’d spent an entire summer in the sun. The length was much shorter than he’d ever remembered seeing it, causing its natural wave to bounce at her neck. The rain had made it wild and unruly, but there was something so natural about it that made her look freer—like she’d finally embraced her true self. He traced his thumb along the side of her jaw, until his palm flattened against her neck where he could feel her pulse racing. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

Emotional laughter slipped from her lips as she clutched his wrist. “I love you,” she whispered.

He moved closer, realizing his whole body was shaking, but for a completely different reason. “I don’t think I realized how much I missed you until you walked through that door,” he said gruffly, then picked her up off the ground and carried her toward the office.

She placed her cheek against his chest. “You tell me that you miss me almost every single day.”

His face straightened. “I know. Yet I still didn’t realize how much I missed you until right now.”

Her smile faded, like she knew exactly what he meant.

Having her in his arms now made all his emotions uncoil at a rapid pace. The feelings were so intense that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. “How did you get away?” he asked into her hair. “I thought you were working all weekend?”

“Mr. Covington doesn’t know I’m gone. I booked the flight last minute. I have to go back tomorrow.”

He froze, his throat as dry and rough as sandpaper, as he stepped foot in his office. “What time is your flight?”

“I have to be back at LAX by noon.”

He had sixteen hours with her. He kicked the door to his office closed and headed toward the desk. “Are you cold?” he sat her on top of it, realizing she was shivering.

She shook her head. “I think it’s adrenaline.”

“Are you nervous?”

“No.

“Then why the adrenaline?”

“Because I’m excited.”

“Why?” His whole body was clenched.

“I think you know why, Tristan Montgomery.”

He smirked because he did, in fact, know exactly what she meant. “Remind me again,” he said in a deep whisper.

“Because my panties are melting off me even as we speak.”

His grin widened, and he moved closer to her, pushing her legs open so he could stand between them. His own thighs pushed against the deep mahogany desk. “Lift your arms,” he demanded, his hands trailing up her ribcage, urging her arms overhead so he could pull her T-shirt free. He threw the wet fabric onto the floor and began working on her jeans. She leaned back on her elbows and lifted her hips upward so he could pull the heavy denim down her ass and thighs.

Now she lay on his desk in wet panties, pushing herself upward to trail a finger down his chest. “Now it’s my turn,” she said.

He flattened her hand on his belt. “It’s been too long since I last touched you. I won’t last a minute if you do that.”

“I don’t care,” she threw herself forward to kiss his neck and her eager fingers found his buckle again.

“I do,” he stated, taking both of her hands and hoisting them overhead.

She raised one brow, and he leaned her backward. She didn’t fight him, and her body flattened onto the surface of his desk. “Stay,” he whispered as he pinned her arms above her head.

She bit her lower lip, and her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

He smiled and moved one hand between her thighs, brushing one finger over her drenched panties. “Torture you,” he whispered. “Make up for all the days when I couldn’t kiss you goodnight.” His hands continued to move over her hips, her thighs, then down to her knees, which he gently pressed until they fell open.

“How do you know I can take it?” she asked. Her eyeswere glassy and seductive.

“I guess we’ll find out.” He cleared the rest of the desk with one shove, pushing all the papers to the ground. Then he hoisted one knee up and crawled onto the desk beside her, bracing himself on his elbows. He looked at her for a full minute, taking her all in. He’d been dreaming of this moment for so long that it was difficult to convince himself she was really there.

“What are you doing?” she whispered when he didn’t speak.

He raked his eyes over her body with deliberate slowness, finally stopping at her beautiful face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but her cheeks were rosy and flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Trying to convince myself you’re really here.”

Her chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, and a tear slid from the corner of her eye. “I’m here,” she promised.

He kissed her cheek, catching the salty tear on his tongue. He pressed his nose into her hairline and inhaled her scent. She smelled like a mixture of raindrops and vanilla, and something so intoxicatingly delicious that he almost felt drunk. He kissed her cheekboneand nose, then hovered above her full mouth. She sighed against his lips, and he began to kiss her deep and slow. He couldn’t explain it, but even now he craved her. Even with her lying beneath him, it wasn’t close enough. He pulled away, peppering kisses down the side of her neck, her collarbone, her chest, until he found her erect nipple and pulled into his mouth. His fingers found the waistband of her panties at the same time, but instead of pulling them down, he brushed over the thin fabric with his fingertips. She writhed against his touch, and even through cotton he could tell she was slick and hot beneath. He found her clit, and began rubbing. His cock twitched against his jeans and she arched her back, pressing her pelvis firmly into his hand. Slowly at first with a deliberate rhythm, he began to massage her, his thumb sliding against her clitoris back and forth until it hardened.

Her heels pressed into the desk and he pushed the fabric aside. His fingers then slid between her slick folds, and he curled them upward, stroking the sensitive spot he knew drove her crazy.

“Oh God!” she called out, moving her body in sync with his hand.

She was the most responsive woman he had ever met, and he wanted nothing more than to please her. Easing his fingers away, he stood at the side of the desk and pulled her toward the edge. Her eyes were hooded, her cheeks flushed, and her lips pink and halfway parted when she looked up at him. Hot waves of longing rushed through his body and he fell to his knees on the floor. He positioned himself between her legs, then flicked out his tongue to taste her. She was honey. Warm, sweet, and delicious.

“Tristan please,” she begged.

He added his fingers to his torment, plunging them deep inside and causing her head to lull. He went deeper still, his fingers pushing and pulling until she melted on the desk. “Oh God,” she called out.

He covered her heat with his mouth, tasting the intoxicating mixture of sweet and salty that he couldn’t get enough of.

Her fingers threaded in his hair, as she guided him to the exact right spot to find her release. All of a sudden, her body began to pulse around his fingers, and he knew she’d started to come. She called out his name and collapsed on the desk, then wave after wave took her.

On shaking legs, he stood from the floor a moment later, and she sat up, eagerly helping him out of his clothes. Yanking his polo from his pants, she pulled it over his head. Her fingers were trembling as she unfastened his pants, then shoved them to the floor. When he was stripped bare, she pulled him up onto the desk and he made love to her again, braced himself above her on his elbows. Her pale blonde hair was splayed out on the dark mahogany desk, moving up and down with each of his strokes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life, Samantha,” he whispered.

She rocked her hips forward, taking him deeper, and held onto his shoulders. She was slippery, and hot, and tight all around him and he couldn't hold back any longer. Soon he found his own release, pouring his seed into her belly. Shehugged him to her chest, kissing his forehead, his cheek, and his lips.

He lay there for a full minute, his head nestled the crook of her neck as he took a deep breath. Her arms ran up and down his back in slow, deliberate movements, until he felt moisture hit his cheek. He pushed up on his forearms, finding her lashes wet and clumped together with tears.

“What’s the matter?” he asked softly, wiping the wetness away with his thumb. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No—I just—” she stammered. “It was so—I was so?—”

He pressed a finger against her lips “Shhh. You don’t need to explain it.” He already knew what she was feeling––the connection between them was something he’d never experienced before. It was raw and emotional, and it triggered a protective instinct in him that made him want to cry. What would happen to him if he ever lost her? How would he even survive?

He stood a moment later, picked her up off the desk, and carried her in his arms toward the sofa on the other side of the office. He laid her down upon it, following her with his whole body until they were side by side.

Looking into her eyes he pushed a lock of stray hair behind her ears as a surge of emotion gathered in his throat making his voice deeper. “So,” he whispered, “how was your day?”

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile, but was failing miserably. “It started out pretty boring,” she began, reaching up a finger to trail along his jaw. “But by the end, it got pretty interesting.”

He tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t quite manage it. “Oh? How interesting?” he asked with one brow raised.

“On a scale of one to ten?” she asked.

“Sure.” He grinned.

“An eight.”

He pushed himself up on his elbow. “An eight?”

She nodded while holding back a giggle.

He was already lowering himself on top of her, wedging one leg between her knees as he growled into her neck. “Well, I guess I’ll have to try again,” he whispered.

Her breath became heavy, and her giggles ceased. “Darn,” she said, tilting her head to the side to give him better access.

He made love to her all over again—kissing every inch of her body fromhead to toe. All the urgency of a moment ago was gone, replaced by a raw, unmistakable longing so intense that it scared him a little. It was a desire to connect. Beyond words. Beyond bodies. It was a connection of their souls, and most definitely a nine-point-five. At the very least.