Chapter 15
Jesse
A scorching flood of heat washes through my face, almost blotting out the fresh jolt of sensation Tristan’s movements trigger.
He only leaves me with my embarrassment for a moment though before he turns enough in my arms to tilt his head back so that the warm breath of his next whisper grazes my ear, sending shivers over my skin, "I like it too. "
The friction of the purposeful, unmistakable roll he gives his hips, pressing his ass up and back against my now definitely hard dick sends a molten shot of arousal coursing through me.
When my hands grip his hips though, it's to still his movements, not to drag his body even closer against me like I so desperately want to.
The frustrated huff of breath he lets out sets me grinning against his hair, even as it erodes my resolve.
Squeezing my eyes shut and breathing out a slow, steadying breath, I force myself to remember it can’t change anything.
I’ve promised myself I’ll stick to my decision.
Nothing is going to happen between us tonight.
Not until I’ve had a chance to try to figure out just how far I’m willing to let him into my heart.
“Goodnight, Tris,” I whisper, not above giving him a little taste of his own medicine as I dip forward, letting my lips graze the shell of his ear before pulling away to settle back behind him on the pillow.
His full body shudder and soft whiny sound of disappointment are equal parts deeply gratifying and perilously close to self-sabotaging.
Even so, I force myself to lie still, dick throbbing and hard as hell, as he gives one or two hopeful squirms against me before letting out another breath of frustrated defeat.
“Goodnight, you fucking tease. And thanks for the blue balls,” he mutters, the sharpness in his voice seriously undermined by the way he tips his head, resting it against my shoulder.
I’m extremely tempted to point out his hypocrisy, but my few remaining functioning brain cells warn that any more provoking of him is not likely to end well. Or, rather, it’s likely to end far too well.
It seems Tristan does indeed intend to keep his promise because, except for a little shifting around and a few frustrated sighs that I resolutely pretend not to hear, both of us are still and silent. Soon, his breaths grow slow and even, and I know he’s asleep.
I, on the other hand, am wide awake. Wide awake and buzzing with the awareness of his body pressed against mine. As I close my eyes and try to will myself to drift off, every nerve in me is alert to how his presence fills my senses.
And every beat of my heart leaps with anticipation and trepidation about what will happen tomorrow, when my flimsy excuse from tonight is gone.
The ping of my phone drags me out of the most comfortable, happiest sleep I’ve had in far too long.
As my consciousness floats back to the surface, the comfort and happiness only grow, solidifying into the sensation of a firm, dense weight plastered over my back, half pinning me into the mattress and pillow.
My phone chimes again, and in answer, a sound of protest rumbles in my ear before transforming into a soft, hummed sort of sigh.
And then the weight shifts, rolling a little to the side as a calloused hand slips up under the back of my shirt at the same moment as soft, warm lips find the back of my neck.
Waves of heat roll down my spine, and my breath catches raggedly as those lips feather over my skin, pausing to linger and suck where their touch makes me let out a muffled moan into the pillow.
“Morning, sunshine.”
Tristan’s low laugh vibrates across my skin as his hand skates down my back, stopping only when his fingers meet the waistband of my pajamas.
Jesus, I don’t think I can remember how to breathe—
“Do I still have to be good this morning, or…” he whispers against my neck before trailing off, letting his fingers dip just under the material to teasingly skate over my hip and around toward my front.
I’m trying to find the mental capacity to tell him to stop, or the will to move enough to catch hold of his hand and stop him myself, when my phone pings again.
Suddenly, I remember the snow last night and the promise I’d made to Alex that, if the weather forecasts proved to be correct, I’d be at their house by ten this morning to see the twins playing in the snow.
From the brightness and angle of the light streaming in through the thin curtains, I’m guessing I’ve slept way later than I’d meant to. I’m probably already late to Alex’s.
“Unfortunately, that makes it a yes about being good,” I exhale into the pillow, figuring it doesn’t hurt to let my disappointment show since I have to go anyway.
Not that I don’t want to go see the twins.
Far from it in fact, but that does nothing to change how little I want to leave Tristan and my bed and whatever might happen if I were to stay… .
“Shame,” he teasingly sulks, and, though he doesn’t try to stop me from moving, he definitely doesn’t help either. Instead, he stays draped over me as he, most unhelpfully, returns to exploring the back of my neck with his lips.
Extracting myself from under him so I can grab my phone from the nightstand involves mustering an incredible amount of resolve, but I do it. And thank god he lets me go, otherwise every ounce of that resolve would have crumbled in an instant.
Apparently accepting temporary defeat, Tristan scoots to the side a bit, giving me space to check my messages as my phone pings yet again in my hand. I’m not too proud to admit to myself that I mourn every inch of his distance.
Swiping past my lock screen, which informs me it’s already past ten, so yes, I am indeed late, I find, as expected, that all four messages are from Alex.
Alex: You get lost on your way?
A photo of the twins out in the snow comes next. They’re so bundled up in coats and hats and snow pants that I can barely find their faces under all the layers. From what I can see though, both of them are grinning from ear to ear.
Then, finally:
Alex: Get your ass over here!
Alex: Unless… Jess, did you finally manage to get some???
“I’ve got to go,” I tap open the picture of the twins so that it, and not Alex’s messages, particularly not that last one, is the only thing visible on my phone. I hold it up to show Tristan as I explain about the twins and how Alex made me promise to come over this morning.
There’s an awkward moment where I’m not sure if I should invite him or not, but he glosses it over, flashing me a deadly smile as his teeth tug softly at his lower lip. “Think you might want to pick this up where we left off after you get back?”
My nod is definitely too fast and too hard to remotely count as playing it cool. Does it really matter though, based on the way Tristan’s smile slowly splits into a grin so full of promise that it has every inch of my skin heating and my dick thickening?
Even so, the undeniable physical attraction I feel toward him is only a piece of the eagerness and anticipation flooding through me at his question.
Yes, I want him. Fucking Christ, I want him like I’d never imagined wanting anyone.
But I also want to know him. To just simply be near him.
Despite the list of amazing things I’ve learned about the complex, beautiful man lying beside me, there isn’t one specific thing I can put my finger on that accounts for what I’m beginning to feel for him. Not even the sum total of it all really makes the yearning draw I feel toward him make sense.
I can’t explain, even to myself, the strength of my need to close the distance between us and take him in my arms and not let go until I know his every last secret and hurt and joy and dream and he knows all of mine.
To hold him and to run my fingers through his hair and watch his face light up as he laughs…
Forgetting for the moment all about Alex and the twins and morning breath, I edge closer to Tristan.
He’s lying on his back with his head tilted toward me, and this time, he doesn’t move to initiate anything.
Just watches with a lazily eager expression on his face as I lean in, letting the upper half of my body cover his as my hands run slowly up his arms. Under me, I can feel the movement of his chest quicken in time with my own, and, as my fingers drift from his shoulders to graze over the bare skin that covers his collarbones, his pupils blow wide, swallowing the hazel warmth of his eyes in heated darkness.
His gaze follows as mine drops to his lips, curved up in a knowing smile that makes me shiver against him as desire licks over my skin. With a shuddering breath, I let my forehead fall to press against his as my hands skim up to either side of his jaw.
And I don’t feel hollow. I don’t feel empty or wrong or—
And then my fucking phone lets out another fucking ping.
Beneath me, Tristan’s shoulders sag in resignation as I shake my head, so close to him that the movement brushes the tip of my nose lightly over the tip of his.
“I wish I didn’t have to go,” I admit, closing my eyes at the sensation of his free hand twisting in my shirt, like he’s trying to hold me in place.
“That makes two of us,” he grins, giving the fabric a little tug to pull me closer against him.
My pulse leaps crazily, and before I can lose my nerve, I suck in a breath and lean in the rest of the way, letting my lips brush in one too-brief sweep against his.
It’s not quite a kiss, and it lasts less than a second, but the soft warmth of his lips lingers on mine as I pull away, electrifying every inch of me with the need for more.
Which is why I have to stop it. Now.
If I don’t, I know I won’t be able to.