Chapter 40
Tristan
Waking up all sweaty and covered in dry cum? Pretty much bottom of the list of things I’m remotely okay with.
For messes that aren’t mine to start making that creepy-crawly itch get going under my skin, something else has to have already set me off.
Like how I thought those water stains on the espresso machine at work were gonna give me a legitimate panic attack after the texting BS from fucking Josh.
But if it’s my own shit that’s a mess, or worst of all, if I’m a mess…
Starting out the day with a morning shower with my sexy sunshine though?
Oh so totally worth all the nasty, gotta-get-myself-clean-now itch beneath my skin I had to deal with when I realized the two of us had passed out last night before we’d had the chance to clean up.
Add in the fact that the moment I’d gotten ahold of his bodywash, Jesse’d grabbed the bottle right out of my hand and proceeded to lather me all over, washing every last inch of my body clean for me before letting me return the favor? Oh hell yes.
Naturally, getting my hands all over a wet, naked Jesse made me want nothing more than to drop right down to my knees and swallow him down to the back of my throat, but it was past ten by the time we’d woken up, and I knew he was eager to get out the door for our mystery date.
So, instead, we’d had to settle for hot AF hand jobs; all slick and soapy bodies grinding and slipping along each other up against the shower wall.
After the way he took his time with me last night? When I finally—and fuuuck, but finally is the key word there—get my mouth on my sunshine’s cock, I’m not gonna be in a hurry. It’s gonna be my turn to take my sweet time with him and love every damn minute of it.
Only trouble is, now I’m pretty sure today’s gone and seriously ruined any future mornings for me that don’t start out exactly like this one.
I’m about to lean in and whisper exactly that into Jesse’s ear when I realize that, unlike me, he does not look like he’s got sexy shower time on a replay loop in his head.
The two of us are in the back of an Uber, on our way deeper into the city for whatever Jesse has in mind for us today, and now that I’m noticing, he looks all kinds of wound up. And not the fun kind.
“You okay, sunshine?”
His whole body’s so damn stiff, it looks like it’s gotta hurt, and his cheeks are this pasty color that looks way too much like the oatmeal he had for breakfast to be remotely healthy.
He’s sitting at a kind of tilt, with his eyes fixed out the windshield, and his hands are gripping so damn tight to the fabric of his jeans that I can see each of his knuckles outlined in white.
“Fine.” One of his knees is jiggling up and down.
Like fuck I’m gonna believe that.
Once upon a time—like two weeks ago—I’d have been one hundred percent sure he was looking like this ‘cause he was pissed at me and that whatever was going on with him had to be my fault. Now, I’m only worried about him.
After I throw a quick glance up to see that the driver’s eyes are glued to the road ahead and not on the rearview mirror, I unclick my seat belt and scooch my ass right over into the middle seat.
Jesse gives a sharp gasp, and one of his hands unclenches from his jeans to reach out to stop me, but I’m already buckling myself in beside him.
I’m about to call him out on his BS and try and get an answer from him when the driver takes us around a sharp corner. Jesse’s hand comes down on my leg, gripping hard enough that it makes me jump as, for one stupid-ass moment, I think he really is pissed—
And then it clicks.
“You don’t like driving?”
Without taking his eyes off the road ahead, he shakes his head, all tight and jerky and quick.
I’ve got about a million and one questions right now, like the super obvious, why? And what the fuck are we doing in a car then? But I only pry his hand off my leg and slip my fingers in between his, giving his clammy palm a squeeze.
“Want me to try and distract you?”
That actually gets him to snap his eyes away from the road and onto me for a sec, and I can’t help laughing at the way they dart up to the driver next.
“Sunshine!” I mock gasp, hand up over my mouth like he’s just scandalized me. “Not like that.” I knock my shoulder against his, hoping I’m not wrong and that maybe he doesn’t feel quite as tense. “I’ve got some standards, you know.”
“Says the man who felt me up at the restaurant last night until we had to leave.” He whispers it so quietly in my ear that I can feel the words more than hear them.
Trying to pretend like everything about what he just did isn’t making my cock seriously chub up—that would totally undermine what I just said about having higher standards than giving our Uber driver an unasked-for show—I flash Jesse a smirk. “It’s working though, huh? You feeling a little better?”
“It’s working.” His eyes are fixed forward again, but his hand feels more relaxed around mine when he lifts my knuckles up to his lips for a soft kiss. “You make me feel better, Tris.”
Fuck. The things this guy does to my heart—
Except I’m meant to be distracting him, not letting him distract me.
“So where are you taking me on this mystery date that’s worth driving for, hmm?”
“I wanted to take you to Pike Place Market.” He tears his eyes away from the road to ping between mine, like he’s checking my expression. Melt.
But seriously— “Pike Place? For real? That’s where we’re going?”
“You haven’t been before, have you?”
I shake my head, grinning a crazy-ass grin I can’t do a damn thing about.
There’d been a picture of Pike Place, a huge, open-air market that sells everything from flowers to fish to art to god-knows-what-else inside that brochure I’d thought I’d stolen from the bus station when I was a kid.
It was one of my favorite pictures in the damn thing; all the smiling people carrying bundles of flowers. All the lights and colors.
“I thought it might give you some inspiration. For your paintings.”
Did I say I’d melted before?
If I didn’t think I’d probably give him a legitimate heart attack for unbuckling, and if I didn’t think I’d get us kicked out of the Uber for doing it, I’d be out of my seatbelt and in my sunshine’s lap this damn moment.
Since I don’t actually want either of those things to happen, I settle for a probably questionably long, lingering kiss on Jesse’s cheek.
For now.
“I’m kinda losing track at this point,” another kiss, “but I think this might now be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, sunshine.”
His cheek lifts beneath my lips so that I don’t even have to pull away to know he’s smiling.
And when I feel the heat of his blush spread across his skin, it makes my already dangerously-full heart flutter with that warm, beautiful feeling I know I’m gonna have to face—and name—sooner rather than later.
Pike Place is every bit as totally fucking amazing as I’d hoped it would be.
Considering how much I’d built the place up in my mind when I was a kid, I have a feeling the fact that reality is just as good as imagination probably has a whole lot more to do with the warm, big hand splayed out low on my back than the actual place, but does it really matter?
And yeah, the actual place really is pretty awesome too.
The weather’s the exact and total opposite of last night, all clear blue sky and almost warm sun.
Almost. Which means I’m all bundled up in that coat of Jesse’s that he keeps loaning me and that I secretly never want to give back.
At least, not until it loses the last traces of his citrusy-cinnamon-and-Jesse smell.
And then, I’ll only want to give it back to him until he’s gone and gotten the coat smelling like himself all over again.
Maybe it’s the nice weather, or maybe this place is just always packed, but everywhere, from the street outside to every last corner of the market, is crammed full of people.
It’s loud and chaotic and crowded with movement and colors and smells, and I love that it’s totally different from anywhere I’ve ever been before.
Like the tourist I am, I wander around with my sweet sunshine in tow, oohing and aahing over everything and snapping pictures on my phone like crazy. Jesse was totally right about this place giving me hella inspiration.
Trouble is though? Every chance I get, I sneak in a shot of my sunshine.
Do I want to paint pretty much every last thing I’m seeing here? Hell yeah I do. Can I get him out of a single one of those paintings in my head? Nope. Just not happening.
A couple hours, one totally ridiculously delicious basket of fish and chips, ten mini-donuts (Jesse ate two of his half of the dozen before saying they were too sweet for him), and about a hundred photos later, I finally tuck my phone into my back pocket.
It’s buzzed several times while I’ve been snapping pics. Texts I’ve swiped right the fuck off my screen the moment they pop up.
Withheld: I fucking told you to text me back
Withheld: I know you’re getting these
Withheld: What the fuck? Text me back
Withheld: Don’t you know I’m worried about you babe?
Fuck. That.
He’s never actually worried about me once.
I’ll delete them all later, but no way am I gonna do it now and risk Jesse seeing them. I don’t want him worrying about this shit. ‘Cause I can’t pretend like he wouldn’t worry.
And yeah, maybe I also can’t pretend like knowing that doesn’t make my heart go all skippy-leapy.
By the afternoon, we end up down at the waterfront. I make it a whole thirty seconds trying to play it cool before Jesse works out that this is the first time I’ve ever seen saltwater up close and personal.
Not gonna lie, the look in his eyes when I admit that pretty much reduces me to a puddle at his feet. Like he knows just how much it means to me to get to see this place for the first time, and like somehow, being the one to give that to me means even more to him.
So I tell him about that stupid brochure.
“It’s why I came here. Seattle, I mean,” I end, looking down at the smooth wood of the railing separating us from the drop down to the water.
Water that I recognize as Jesse’s favorite color.
And yeah, if I’ve gotta be honest, right now, I kinda think it might be mine too.
The Google search I’d pulled up before totally hadn’t done it justice.
“I’d always wanted to see it for real, and this place is a long way from Tucson, so…”
Shit, I hope what I’ve told him didn’t make me sound stupid. Aimless. Picking a random-ass place to go based on a few pictures I saw when I was a kid—
Jesse’s warm lips on mine snuff out the thoughts running through my head as he ducks down and kisses me, deep and slow, hands in my hair, while his tongue maps out my mouth like he’s trying to memorize this moment. Like—fuck, like he’s trying to memorize me.
By the time he pulls away, my head’s kinda spinning and there’s definitely more blood rushing between my legs than to my brain, so when he whispers, “Thank you,” against my lips, all I can do is blink at him, shaking my head like the idiot I am. Because what the hell is he thanking me for?
“For moving to Seattle.” He huffs out a gentle laugh. “For being here now. With me.” Another kiss. Soft this time. Sweet and short.
It’s probably a damn good thing that my throat’s all choked up and too tight to let out a single word, ‘cause I don’t trust whatever’s being held back right this moment.
All I know is that that warm, too-good-to-be-true feeling is spreading through my chest like wildfire, waking up those crazy-ass butterflies and making my eyes sting at the corners.
And ‘cause I don’t want Jesse to know if that sting gets a bit carried away and turns into real-life tears, and ‘cause I’m scared shitless at what he might see written across my face right now anyway, I turn in his arms, snuggling my back against his chest and leaning my head on his shoulder.
“Tris?”
“Yeah?”
A beat. Am I just imagining that the next breath he drags in feels a little shaky against my skin?
“I’m having dinner at Alex’s house next Tuesday.” He pauses, and that’s all the time it takes for my heartbeat to go all hard and heavy. “Do you think you might want to come? You don’t have to if it’s too much or you don’t want to, or—”
“Shh, sunshine, stop,” I laugh, halfway turning in his arms so I can slap a hand over his mouth. For a second, he looks startled—so damn adorable—and then he’s laughing too. It’s a shy sound that matches the scorching pink I can feel beneath my fingers, and god, I love it. Want to hear it again.
And again.
And holy fuck, my sunshine’s asking me to meet the people he’s already told me are as good as family to him.
Oh those motherfucking butterflies, ‘cause, “Yeah, I’ll come.”
When my hand slips down from over his mouth, he’s wearing this smile that legitimately just might kill me with the crazy things it does to my heart.
“Good,” he guides me back to snuggle in against his chest again, tucking his chin down onto my shoulder.
For one wild, totally terrifying moment, that thing Reagan said yesterday is on the tip of my tongue. How she’d called him my boyfriend. Wouldn’t believe me when I said he wasn’t. I swallow it down though.
What if that’s not shit Jesse wants to hear from me?
We’re quiet for a long while. Just being; his arms wrapped around me and mine tucked over the top of his, as the two of us stare out at the sun sparkling off the blue water. Farther out, there’s more land, and past that, there are blue mountains topped off with snow.
I’m just thinking how I could totally spend the entire rest of the day here, all cuddled up with Jesse just like this, when he nuzzles his face in against my neck.
All it takes is one teensy brush of his lips over my skin, and suddenly my mind’s very much not on the gorgeous view anymore.
Nope, now it’s totally focused on how fucking good my sunshine’s body feels all pressed up against me. How there’s a warm sweep of his tongue when he kisses me again. How his breath’s gone a bit quicker. And when he inhales against my skin, slow and deep, with his hands gripping me tighter—
“This your way of telling me it’s time to go?” And yeah, maybe I might have shimmied my ass against him. Just the tiniest wiggle to make my point.
“Maybe,” he whispers, and I can feel his smile against my skin.
God, I love making him smile. Love feeling him smile like that.
Fuck—
It was just about his smile—not like it was anything else—but just thinking that word in my own head gets those motherfucking butterflies right back up to full speed all over again, swirling round my stomach until I feel like I’m spinning right along with them.