Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Kate
If confusion had a face, it’d be mine.
I’d stupidly thought Tristan and I were on the same page, especially after his whole fuck-off act with Bryce and the way he stood up for me. But his entire demeanor had changed after we’d gone back inside. He was different.
Closed off.
It intrigued me and pissed me off in equal measures.
Maybe that was why I’d asked him to stay? Well, okay, that wasn’t the only reason. I might’ve wanted to pick up where we’d left off in the kitchen: his hand under my shirt, that mouth next to my ear whispering filthy, filthy things to me.
But apparently, he had other plans.
“Ugh.”
Curling up on the couch, I tucked my knees under my chin and pulled up one of my comfort shows. Unfortunately, not even the sight of Yoongi getting doused in water or his adorable little laugh could dull my irritation.
I sighed heavily. Tristan wasn’t even to blame. Not really. I knew who and what he was, and still, I let my guard down. I allowed him to crawl beneath my skin and make me want things I shouldn’t.
“That’s what you get for playing with the big, bad wolf,” I muttered. “Ugh, whatever.”
And since I’d entered the stage of not only talking to myself but answering myself as well, I figured it was best to get my ass to bed.
I’d just flicked off the TV when my phone vibrated on the seat next to me.
The last time anyone had called at this time, it’d been Tristan. I reached for my phone, my traitorous heart galloping wildly inside my chest. All for nothing. It wasn’t Tristan.
The rush of disappointment coursing through my veins was so strong, I considered not answering at all. But knowing Izzy, she’d keep bugging me until I stopped avoiding her.
Which I’d been doing a mighty fine job of since her text earlier.
Dragging the green button up the screen, I braced myself.
“Well, hello there, you little minx,” my sister said when her face popped onto the screen.
I rolled my eyes. “You do realize what time it is?”
“We need to talk.” Ignoring me completely, she waggled her brows. “...dripping fucking wet for me. Excuse me, Sis, you have some explaining to do.”
There was no stopping the heat that spread into my cheeks or the violent tug low, low in my belly. I’d freaking loved it when Tristan had talked to me like that.
Gosh, I could practically feel his lips against my skin while he growled dirty words into my ear. That thought might have drawn an involuntary moan from the back of my throat.
Izzy laughed. “That good, huh?”
“Nothing happened,” I said defensively. A bit too defensively.
Either my sister hadn’t cared or hadn’t noticed. “Sure didn’t look like nothing from where I stood.” Her eyebrows jumped like they had earlier. “That man had his hand up your shirt, and you liked it.” Another laugh sounded. “I wish Bryce had walked in instead of me.”
“Well.” I sat up straighter and shoved my hair out of my face. “Bryce kind of started the entire thing.”
“Wait. Wait just a minute. I need wine for this.” Izzy’s image wobbled as she hurried to the fridge to retrieve said wine. Without taking a glass, she made her way to her living room and plopped onto the couch.
The bottle went straight to her mouth. “Okay, go. How does Bryce fit into the whole bossman-feeling-you-up-in-Mom’s-kitchen situation?”
I didn’t need much convincing to tell the story. I’d been dying to since it’d happened. Despite my fury filled words, that little display Tristan had put on had been such a damn turn-on.
Which, I was ashamed to admit, had made his observation spot-on. My underwear had been wet, and I’d been three seconds away from asking for relief before I’d finally come to my senses.
More wine went down Izzy’s throat. “Listen, I might not be that man’s biggest fan, but holy hell, I wish I’d been there to see the look on Bryce’s face. I bet it was the first time someone had talked to him like that.”
It probably was.
Usually when Bryce entered the room, people got quiet and paid attention. It’d been one of the things that’d drawn me to him all those years ago. It took me a while to realize it wasn’t the man but rather the bank account that’d demanded the attention.
It wasn’t like that with Tristan. He could stroll into a room without a cent to his name, and his presence would still fill up the space. It’s who he was: devastatingly charming, commanding, and oozing with confidence.
Probably why anything with a pulse threw themselves at him. A sour taste filled my mouth. Tristan had said he had plans with Rafe. Did those plans include going out and picking up women?
A sliver of jealousy slithered over my skin. I had no right to him. No right to envy whatever blond bombshell wound up warming his bed. No damn right at all.
“Soooo?” Izzy’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You don’t think things are moving a bit fast?”
Deciding it was time for another confession, I opened my mouth. The words wouldn’t come. “It’s moving at the right pace,” I said instead.
She’d discarded the wine bottle and held the phone closer to her face.
“You’re sure? It was months before you introduced Bryce to Mom and Dad.
” A protest sprang to the tip of my tongue, but her finger shot up.
“And don’t think I’m buying that shit about you guys dating for however long you told our parents. I know how new this is.”
“Iz—”
“I get why you did it though,” she went on as if I hadn’t said a thing. “Mom and especially Dad would worry too much. And yes, I know you’re a big girl who can take care of herself... I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Again, I opened my mouth to speak, but this time a knock on the door stopped me. My gaze flicked to the clock mounted above the TV.
Eleven-thirty.
“Huh.”
Izzy’s face took up the entire screen. “What’s with the look?”
“I gotta go, Iz.” On cue the knocking turned to pounding. “There’s someone here. We’ll talk more, I promise. Love you.”
Disconnecting the call, I pressed nine-one-one. My finger hovered over the dial icon as I gingerly headed toward the foyer.
The knocking had stopped, but the shadow under the door hadn’t disappeared.
For a moment, I considered ignoring it and going to bed, but then, I thought of Millie. What if it was a burglar trying to see if someone was home? And what if by ignoring him, I gave him the all-clear to break in.
I couldn’t imagine how such an incident would affect her.
As silent and slow as I could, I rolled onto the balls of my feet to peek through the peephole.
My lungs deflated in one fell swoop. There was a man on the other side. Both hands braced on the frame, his head hanging miserably.
“What the?” I yanked the door open. “Tristan. What are you doing here?”
His head snapped up, and a goofy grin spread across his face. “There she is. My Kitty Kat. My wife.” Stumbling forward, he cradled my cheeks between his palms. “I missed you.”
There was no mistaking the way his words slurred or the waft of alcohol on his breath.
He’d been drinking. A lot by the looks of it.
“You’re drunk,” I told him.
A chuckle spilled over his lips as he pushed one hand into my hair and lifted the other. Pinching his thumb and forefinger together, he mumbled, “Jus a lil.” Those long fingers threaded through my strands and pulled tight. “Hmmm. So soft.”
Moving like a contortionist, I somehow managed to break free from his hold long enough to close the door. With a sigh, I dropped my head against the wood.
Clearly, he’d gone out drinking and, somehow, ended up here. Should I send him home? Should I let him sleep it off on my couch? I wasn’t sure. Maybe I should start off by getting him water and go from there.
Giving myself a mental thumbs-up, I turned and yelped. He was right freaking there, invading my space and staring at me with a way too serious expression on his face.
“She wasn’t you,” he stammered. “I told her she wasn’t. She could never be—”
A sharp unwelcome pang shot through my ribs. The rest of his words faded away, and one single thought consumed me. He didn’t have plans with Rafe like he’d said; he’d been with another woman.
It shouldn’t have bothered me. Shouldn’t have hurt.
Our marriage was nothing more than a signed piece of paper.
And yet, I couldn’t ignore the sting of betrayal.
He’d had his mouth on mine a little more than twenty-four hours ago, his hands on my body even less than that, and when I’d asked him to stay, he’d said no.
Because he wanted to be with someone else.
This, this right here, was the reason why I should’ve never gotten involved with him in the first place.
“I’ll get you an Uber.” Despite the ache inside my bones, my tone was flat.
I shimmied to the right to move around him, but as I was about to step forward, he slammed his hand down on the door next to my head. Before I could even think about shifting to the left, he brought up his other hand, trapping me.
“Tris—”
“I’m not leaving.” His gaze searched mine, dark irises becoming less glassy with every ticking second. “She wasn’t you. I didn’t touch her because she wasn’t you.”
I shut my eyes, squeezing my lids together. The band around my heart pulled tighter. If only he’d stop mentioning the other woman. If only he’d leave.
Those thoughts were still at the forefront of my mind when the delicate swipe of his thumb over my cheek stole my attention. He was so gentle; it made my chest ache.
More confusion swirled through my veins, fast and furious.
Tristan Blake had not only effortlessly scaled the wall I’d built around myself all those years ago, he’d burrowed himself so deep beneath my skin I’d never get him out.
“Will you look at me?”
At his whispered words, I slowly pried my lids apart. His painfully beautiful face was right there. So close if I rolled onto my toes, I’d be able to press my mouth to his stubbly jaw. The ferocity with which I’d wanted to do just that scared the crap out of me.
“Why are you here?” I finally asked.
His eyes, dark and intense, roamed over my face for what felt like an eternity.
“I can’t shake you,” he said. “It’s a mess up here”—he tapped two fingers against his temple—“scrambled and out of control. And in the middle of it all, there’s you. You fucking own me, Kate.”
I knew better than to latch on to the ramblings of a drunk man. Even if those ramblings caused nothing but chaos inside my body.
That was why I ignored the raving butterflies and the disco thump of my heart. I didn’t pay any attention to the goosebumps littering my skin or the desperate urge to slide my hand behind his neck and tug those lips to mine.
“Tristan,” I said firmly. “You’re drunk.”
Squinting his eyes, he cocked his head slightly. “You’re gorgeous.”
Not entirely pleased with how his words were affecting me, I carefully extracted myself from his cage and headed for the living room.
Of course he followed.
With a slight wobble, he took a few steps then had to throw an arm out to steady himself. A hand scraped down his face while a heavy sigh blew over his lips.
“I’m...drunk.”
“Yes. We’ve already established that,” I agreed. “You need a bed, and maybe some water and aspirin.”
Pinching one eye shut, he rocked back on his heels while his gaze slowly traveled across the room. “Hmm. Sounds good.”
I’d figured that was his way of saying goodbye, but he didn’t move.
“Tristan.”
Upon hearing his name, he blinked a few times. It was slow and reminded me of the sloth in Zootopia.
“Tristan,” I said, firmer this time. “How did you get here?”
He blinked again, even slower, before looking at me. Poking his tongue into the corner of his mouth, he pinched one eye shut like he’d done earlier. I had a sneaky suspicion the man saw two of me.
And if he was that intoxicated, there was no way I could send him home. Which meant he was crashing at my place.
“Come on.”
With a heavy sigh, I hooked my arm around his waist and guided him toward my bedroom.
That short trip turned out to be my cardio workout of the week.
Because, holy moly, carting his six-foot-five muscled frame across the room with almost no help from him was even tougher than doing a seated climb with the resistance on ten.
I was completely spent by the time I finally helped him onto my bed.
Still catching my breath, I undid the laces of his boots before sliding them off his feet. He watched me. His dark gaze carefully followed every move of my hand and slide of my fingers.
It was unsettling. Especially so when that intense stare of his had my body humming and vibrating in the most delicious way possible.
Doing my best to ignore the unwelcome feelings he woke up inside of me, I helped him get his legs on the mattress.
“Get some rest, okay.”
Before I could leave, Tristan’s hand shot out, long fingers curling tight around my wrist. He tugged once, and I fell. My head hit his chest hard. But damn, the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with alcohol hit me harder.
I pinched my eyes shut.
Why the hell did he have to feel so warm and smell so damn good? Bastard. For a brief insane moment, I imagined staying exactly like that, tucked against his chest while the world raged war outside.
I imagined waking up with those arms holding me tight, and his breath fluttering against the back of my neck.
I imagined him trailing his fingers along my jaw and over my cheek. His touch was gentle and so achingly sof… Wait a minute.
My eyes flew open, and sure enough, it wasn’t my imagination.
“Don’t go,” he whispered. “Let me hold you.” His thumb traveled down and over my lips. “Let me kiss you.”
Every cell inside my body fired off at once. I wanted that. Wanted to be in his arms. Wanted his mouth on mine.
But not like this.
Not when he wasn’t in his right mind and could wake up regretting it, or worse, not even remembering it.
That was why, despite the heavy protest in my blood, I pushed off the bed and only stopped when I reached the door.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Then without giving him another glance, I slipped out and closed the door behind me.