Chapter Seven Tristan
My lips met hers at the front door, hungry and insistent, our breaths mingling in puffs of white in the cold.
“Tristan,” Adriana whispered between kisses, the word a key unlocking something wild within me.
Without breaking contact, my fingers found the hem of her shirt, lifting it gently over her head. Her bra, an obstacle I dispatched with a flick of my wrist, fell to the ground—forgotten. My mouth followed the path I’d cleared, trailing down the valley between her breasts, taking my sweet time because every second counted.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I murmured against her skin, feeling her shiver not from the cold but from the heat we were generating right there on the doorstep.
Her hands wound into my hair, pulling me closer as if she couldn’t get enough. And damn, that was exactly how I felt—like I could never have enough of her. I worshipped her with my lips, lavishing attention on her nipples until they pebbled, her soft moans a melody that filled the silent night.
“Tristan...” The way she said my name, full of need and trust—it did things to me, twisted my insides in the best way possible. She always did this when we were having sex, and it was always my undoing; the lilt of her voice at the end of my name, like she was asking me a question, like she was pleading for more.
Kissing further down, I paused when I reached her baby bump. A small mound that was a testament to the life we’d created. I pressed my lips there, reverence blooming in my chest.
“Seems mummy and daddy need some alone time, huh?” I joked lightly, looking up to catch her reaction.
Laughter bubbled forth from her, genuine and unrestrained. It cascaded over me, warming me more than any fire ever could. That sound, her laughter, I’d wage wars for it. I’d do anything to hear it every day for the rest of my life.
“Tristan Callahan,” she said, her voice tinged with love and a hint of that sharp wit I adored, “you sure know how to make a girl forget it’s freezing outside.”
“Only for you, Adriana. Only for you.” And that was the goddamn truth.
I shifted, dropping to my knees and feeling the rough texture of the cabin’s wooden floor against my knees, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was the woman standing before me—Adriana with her dark hair cascading around her shoulders, eyes bright with a mix of desire and something fiercer, something akin to the power she wielded without even knowing.
“Tristan,” she breathed out again, this time laced with impatience.
“Shh,” I whispered, fingers hooking into the waistband of her leggings. I tugged them down, slow and steady, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of her skin. “You’re soaked through, babe. It’s fucking sexy.”
The leggings pooled around her feet, and she stepped out of them, standing bare and beautiful in the soft electric light of the room, the door still open behind her.
Her scent hit me then, that intoxicating aroma that was all Adriana—a hint of her floral perfume mixed with the heady musk of her arousal. My mouth watered, and I could feel my control begin to slip.
“I’ve wanted to taste you all day and night long,” I confessed, voice rough with the raw need clawing at my insides. “Every damn meeting, every second I had to go out there and do anything else, all I thought about was fucking you.”
A visible shudder ran down her spine at my words. Good. I wanted her to feel it, every word, every touch. This wasn’t just about sex; it was about claiming her—about reminding her that no matter what, she was mine.
Leaning forward, I parted her thighs with my hands, reverently running my fingertips along the soft skin of her inner leg. Then, without another word, I gave in to my craving. My tongue found her clit, and I sucked gently, listening to the sharp intake of breath above me.
“Fuck!” Her hands found purchase in my hair, tugging slightly, guiding me where she needed me most.
I licked and sucked, each movement calculated to drive her wild. I pressed my tongue inside her, fucking her with a rhythm that had her hips undulating and her moans escalating. Her nails scraped my scalp, her pleasure building as I devoured her.
I knew she hadn’t come yet, but the way she screamed my name was a promise of what was to come. And I intended to fulfill every silent vow I made to her body and soul.
I pulled away for just a second. I needed to catch my breath, I needed to let her catch hers. I leaned my face against the soft expanse of her thighs, her skin softer than it ever had been, feeling her warmth on my cheek.
“Because I fucking want you all the time, I get to have you wherever I want,” I murmured against her skin, my breath hot on her wetness. “Even out here where anyone could stumble upon us.”
There was, of course, no way anyone could actually stumble upon us. Her breathing hitched, and that was the moment I knew she was close. The idea that we were in a secluded public space, that the thrill of potential discovery heightened our encounter—it only added fuel to the raging fire.
“God, Tristan, yes,” Adriana gasped.
I felt her body tense, her legs stiffening as I continued my relentless assault with my mouth. Her grip in my hair tightened to an almost painful degree. It was perfect, the slight sting mixed with the sweet taste of her. She was on the edge, trembling, and I was the one who had brought her there.
“Tell me, Adriana, tell me you’re mine.” The possessive words came out between each kiss I planted on her sensitive flesh.
“Yours,” she breathed out, succumbing to the waves of pleasure that I sent crashing into her. “Only yours.”
And then she shattered, her climax overtaking her in a storm of sensations. She shook above me, her aftershocks rippling through her as I helped her ride it out, slowing my movements but never ceasing, drawing every last tremble from her until she could barely stand, until she was so spent she could only pant and she was finding forming words difficult.
And I was finding it hard to think; pleasuring her had brought me to the brink of my limits, and I could have probably come just from licking her over and over and over again.
But I wanted more than that.
I always wanted more of her.
“Fuck, what do you want, Ade?” I asked, voice rough with my own need.
She looked down at me, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed with post-orgasmic bliss. “What do you want to hear?” she teased weakly.
My smirk was feral, knowing full well what was coming next. “Tell me what you need.”
Her voice was a desperate whisper, “I need you inside me. Now, Tristan.”
“Happy to oblige,” I said, standing up swiftly, my own arousal painfully evident. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable first, though. As much as I want to fuck you right here next to this open door, I don’t want…”
“What?” she asked, her voice teasing, singsongy.
“You’re pregnant,” I said.
Her eyes widened before a soft understanding smile departed her lips. I rose to my feet to look into her eyes. “You’re worried about me?” She asked, her tone filled with gentle amusement.
“Always.” I replied, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. The look in her eyes softened further and she reached up, cupping my cheek in her warm hand.
“I’m okay, Tristan. But...” She bit down on her lower lip, dropping her gaze to my chest. “A bed would be more comfortable.”
I chuckled at that, the sound low and deep in my throat as I swept her into my arms. “A bed it is, then,” I promised, carrying her through the cabin to the master bedroom.
Once inside, I kicked the door shut behind us and laid Adriana down onto the plush mattress. The room was dimly lit, a soft glow coming from the bedside table lamp but it was enough to see the desire burning in her eyes.
She was naked, and I wanted nothing more than to touch her. But I stood there for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. Her short, dark hair was tousled around her face, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire, while her chest heaved with each breath she took. She looked wild, untamed - a sight that starkly contrasted her usual composed and controlled demeanor.
“Aren’t you going to join me?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
In answer, I reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it on the floor. She watched me undress, her gaze predatory as she followed the movement of my fingers as they unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans.
I pushed my jeans down along with my boxer briefs and stepped out of them. Her gaze dropped to my hardened length and she bit down on her lower lip.
My gaze never left hers, and I watched as her eyes took me in, darkening with desire. Then her gaze landed on the gauze that was covering my most recent gunshot wound.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Flesh wound,” I said. “I’ve gotten worse injuries from football. And rowing, too.”
She arched an eyebrow at me, though her gaze softened slightly. “And just how many gunshot wounds have you received from football?” she asked, amusement tingeing her tone.
With a chuckle, I shrugged, climbing onto the bed and positioning myself between her legs. I loved the way her gaze followed my every move, anticipation clear in her eyes. “You’re missing the point, Adriana,” I murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face.
“And what’s the point then?” she quizzed, reaching up to trail a curious finger down my chest and over my toned abs. Each feather-light touch sending jolts of electricity through me.
“That I’d endure a thousand bullet wounds to be here with you,” I confessed quietly, capturing her wandering hand to press a tender kiss onto her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at me, her gaze filled with a myriad of emotions - surprise and endearment among them.
“Tristan—“
But I didn’t let her speak. She was wet and ready and I was throbbing with need, and her words could wait. I silenced her with a kiss, slow and lingering, while my hand reached down to align myself at her entrance. She gasped against my mouth as I pushed in slowly, savouring the feel of her hot and tight around me. Adriana’s hands gripped my biceps, her nails digging into my skin as she adjusted to the intrusion.
“Fuck, Tristan…” she moaned, lifting her hips to meet my thrusts. There was something so visceral about this, about being inside of her that it made every other encounter pale in comparison. I could feel everything; every twitch, every gasp that escaped her lips spurred me on.
And she was beautiful like this—the way her brows knitted together in concentration and the tiny whimper that left her lips when I hit just the right spot. It was intoxicating. I kissed her again, swallowing up all traces of sounds she made.
“I would get shot all over again if it meant I got to be inside you again,” I whispered, thrusting into her harder. “And again, and again…”
She gasped, her nails digging deeper into my skin. “Then don’t get shot,” she said breathlessly, a plea hidden in her words.
I kissed her then, hard and passionate as I moved within her. The world fell away, and for the first time in a long time, I felt at peace. It didn’t matter what waited for us outside the four walls of this room; right now, it was just us.
Her hands clung to me tighter, fingers digging into the muscles of my back as I moved within her, stroking the depth of her desire and bringing forth a cascade of desperate whimpers and moans from deep within her throat.
She gasped, tipping her head back to expose the slender column of her throat. I took the invitation for what it was, sinking my teeth into the tender flesh at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Her body jerked beneath me and I felt her tighten around me, sending a surge of pleasure through my veins.
“I’m close.” The words slipped from her lips between ragged breaths. I held myself still within her, buried to the hilt. Her eyes fluttered open to meet mine in a silent plea. A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth.
“Already?” I taunted, wiggling my hips just enough to cause friction against that sweet spot inside her. Her fingers tightened on my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin. A delicious sting that only fueled my desire further.
“I-” she stuttered, “you- we-” Adriana’s words were cut off as I pulled out and thrust back in hard.
“Ah, fuck!” she cried out as her body arched off the bed, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. I groaned at the feel of her tight heat pulsing around me.
“You’re a poet,” I teased, my fingers lacing with hers and pinning her hands on either side of her head.
She sputtered incoherently, her mind clearly too foggy with pleasure to form any coherent thoughts. Her chest heaved with deep breaths. My fingers traced down her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake until they found the bundle of nerves between her legs.
As I stroked across the swollen clit, her back arched off the bed, pressing her chest against mine. Each thrust drove me deeper into her, eliciting a series of gasps and moans that vibrated against my skin. The taste of her lips was intoxicating; the way she writhed beneath me was driving me wild with need.
Feeling her muscles tightening around me, I quickened my pace, pushing her closer and closer to the edge until she was teetering on the brink. “Let go for me, Ade,” I whispered into her ear, my voice thick with desire.
Her grip on my hand tightened further, her breath hitching as she reached the precipice. “Tristan...” she panted, her voice quivering with the overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing through her. Then with a shuddering sigh, she tipped over the edge, her body convulsing as she rode the waves of her climax. The sight and feel of her coming apart beneath me spurred me on, pushing me to my own release.
I groaned loudly, spilling myself inside her as heat swept through me in a wave of overwhelming relief. I stayed there for a moment, buried inside her as we both gasped for breath. The room was filled with the heavy scent of sex and our sharp intakes of air, creating a sensual symphony that echoed around us.
Heavy breaths filled the silence as we both came down from our highs. The glow from the bedside lamp washed over us, casting a warm hue on her skin - flushed from our activities.
I buried my face into the crook of her neck, taking deep breaths as I tried to regain some semblance of control.
Her hands ran soothingly over my back, tracing the muscles that rippled beneath her touch. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, both our bodies slick with sweat.
“Am I crushing you?” I asked her.
“No, I’m okay.”
“I was talking to the twins,” I said.
She laughed, her body shuddering beneath me with the force of it. It was a sound I loved - it made her feel real, tangible.
“I think they’re okay too,” She answered, her fingers dancing on my back.
I pushed myself up to look at her face. Her short, dark hair was splayed on the pillow, framing her flushed face. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and for a moment I forgot about everything else.
I leaned down to kiss her softly, my lips moving lazily against hers. Our bodies tangled up in the sheets and each other. The outside world didn’t exist in these moments - the threat of danger, of enemies lurking - all felt distant.
“You have to stop being so sexy if you don’t want me to fuck you all the time.”
She laughed again. “Trust me, I’m working on it. I just keep growing and growing and growing.”
“Is there anything sexier than making our children?” I said, rolling off her.
She giggled, her laughter ringing out in the quiet room, filling the space and chasing away the lurking shadows. “I think you might be a little biased there, Tristan Callahan.”
“Maybe,” I conceded, sliding a hand over her rounded stomach. The twins were making their presence known – two small feet kicking out in clear response to their mother’s laughter. “But can you blame me? You’ve made this...phenomenal.” I pressed a kiss to her belly, whispering words meant only for our unborn children.
“You know what’s not phenomenal? My swollen ankles,” she said.
“I’ll gladly massage them for you,” I offered instantly, eager to ease any discomfort she had.
She chuckled, giving me a grateful look. “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
Managing to sit up on the bed, I caught her feet gently and started massaging her ankles. Her sigh of relief was music to my ears. It felt strangely intimate, this simple act of tending to her needs.
“Oh, right there,” she moaned softly, and I pressed deeper into the muscle.
“Better?” I asked after a few minutes, looking up at her.
“Much better,” she said with a content smile on her face. “Thank you, Tristan.”
But her eyes held something more than gratitude--something that made my heart pound against my chest. Love. It shone bright in her gaze, making me feel like the most important man in the world.
“I love you, Ade,” I found myself saying without thinking.
“I love you too,” she said softly, contentedly.
I took a deep breath as my fingers continued to dig into her ankles. “I was wrong, Adriana.”
Her brow furrowed. “About what?”
“About so many things,” I replied, then took a deep breath again, suddenly absolutely certain of what had to come next. “Let’s do it, Ade. Let’s get married.”