Chapter 15
RIX
“ O h my God, did you steal your brother’s car?” Essie’s jaw nearly hits the sidewalk as she rolls her suitcase to the trunk.
“He left me the keys. Driving it freaks me out.” It’s practical, considering he makes millions a year, but I’ve never driven a car worth more than fifteen-thousand dollars, so getting behind the wheel of his Tesla makes me nervous.
But making Essie Uber or take the train was silly when Flip said I could use it.
We hug briefly, and I help her heft the bag into the trunk.
We hustle into the car and out of the chilly September rain.
I fight a cringe as I take my place behind the wheel.
Pre-away-game sex with Tristan is turning into a full-body event.
Muscles I didn’t even know existed hurt.
I’m not sure what it indicates that he feels the need to have extra-intense sex anytime we won’t have it for more than twenty-four hours.
“Trixie Rixie, are you having trouble sitting down?” Essie inquires as she moves my purse from the passenger seat to the floor. She tucks the fortune cookie that fell out back inside.
I focus on leaving the Toronto airport without getting into a fender bender. It’s the worst. “How was your flight?”
“It was decent. The guy next to me was hot, which is much better than my last flight, where I ended up beside a grandfather who farted every fifteen minutes and seemed shocked by the smell.”
“Was the hot guy also nice?” I’m not above distracting her.
“He was self-absorbed. Talked about all the money he makes in finance. I did a lot of nodding and smiling. I also drank three glasses of wine, so that helped quell the boredom. His pretty face was a bonus.” She adjusts her position.
“Nice try changing the subject, but you sat down rather gingerly. I’ve been dying for details, so spill them. ”
“Some details are rather filthy,” I warn.
“I would expect nothing less from Tristan, considering he’s best friends with your brother and the stories floating around on the bunny sites are unreal. There has to be some truth to them.”
I avoid the bunny sites like the plague.
I already know enough about my brother and his sex life.
And I have no desire for any insider scoop on Tristan.
But I finally have privacy to speak to Essie, so I fill in the gaps—there are many—in the dirty story since Tristan and I started sleeping together.
“Holy shit. He really is filthy. I can’t believe he ate the cucumber.”
“Yeah. He really commits.”
“I also can’t believe Flip hasn’t suspected anything,” she muses.
“He’s pretty busy with his own social life.”
“Does that bother you? Especially since Tristan is the same way.”
I consider telling Essie about the woman Flip brought home who Tristan had previously slept with but decide that’s one situation I don’t need to relive.
“It’s awkward witnessing it firsthand,” I tell her.
“There’s almost always someone in his bed.
He had a long-term girlfriend in high school, and our parents have been married for over thirty years.
It’s not like he’s had bad modeling.” I wave that away.
“Anyway, I don’t need to psychoanalyze my brother, and you’ll probably see him in action when they get back tomorrow night. ”
I pull into the underground lot and park my brother’s car, help Essie unload her suitcase, and take her up to the condo.
She lets out a low whistle and crosses to the wall of windows. “Wow, now that’s a view. The waterfront is amazing from here.”
“Right? It’s a great location.”
Essie surveys the rest of the condo. “It’s a sweet pad.”
“It is. Minus the single bathroom and the ladder to get to the loft.”
“Yeah, that’s a weird design flaw.”
Once we get Essie’s suitcase into the loft—no easy feat—we catch up while we make dinner together. I work in the morning, so Essie will visit friends from university while I’m gone.
T he following evening, we’re snuggled together on the couch in the loft, eating buttered popcorn and watching a movie, when Flip and Tristan return from Ottawa. They won the game, and Flip and Tristan scored a goal apiece.
“Hey, sis! Hey, Ess!” Flip shouts.
“Hey!” we call back.
“Gotta shower off the sin,” he says, probably to Tristan. Two seconds later, the bathroom door closes.
Tristan grumbles something, and his suitcase rolls across the floor.
Essie side-eyes me and whispers, “Now we’re getting to the good part.”
I roll my eyes. “Nothing will happen while you’re here.”
“We’ll see how true that is, won’t we?”
Less than a minute later, Tristan pops into the loft.
“Hey.” I give him a questioning smile. This should be interesting.
“Hey.” His gaze shifts to Essie as he pulls himself up. “Essie, it’s been a while, eh?”
“It’s been a few years.” She pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth. She hasn’t seen him in the flesh since freshman year of high school.
He tucks his thumbs into his pockets. He’s wearing distressed black jeans and a long-sleeve shirt pushed up to reveal his delicious forearms. The look does a fantastic job of highlighting all his exceptionally defined muscles.
His gaze shifts from us to the TV and back again. “What are you two up to?”
“Uh, watching a movie.” I motion to the TV. It seems obvious.
He kneads the back of his neck. “You look pretty cozy.”
We’re currently sharing a blanket. “Do you want to join us? We’re only about twenty minutes in.”
His brow furrows, and he bites his bottom lip.
Essie glances between us and holds up her insulated wineglass. “I need a refill.” She tosses off the blanket and untwines our legs. We’re both wearing shorts, those terrible-but-comfy reading socks, and hoodies. “I’ll be back up in a few. Holler if you need anything.”
Tristan’s eyes go to my mostly bare legs.
“Maybe bring the bottle up,” I say.
“Will do.” Essie skirts around him and disappears down the ladder.
Tristan glances over his shoulder before he moves closer.
He leans down, bracing a hand on the back of the couch.
Aside from looking confusingly upset, he smells fantastic.
Two days of stubble decorates his cheeks.
I bet that would feel great rubbing all over my lonely, neglected pussy. “Are you spooning with Essie?”
“She’s my best friend. Why do you look upset?”
“I thought I’d get some time with you. Alone.” He fingers the end of my ponytail, and his lips brush my cheek. “Come to my room when everyone else goes to sleep so we can spoon naked.”
“I haven’t seen Essie in months. I live here, Tristan, at least for the next little while. You can wait until Essie goes home before you get me naked again.”
He backs up. “How long is she here?”
“Until Sunday.”
He buries his face against my neck. “I haven’t been able to touch you for almost two days, and you’ll be up here, all cuddly.”
“Are you jealous?” I ask.
“No.” His brow furrows. “Wait. All you’re doing is cuddling, right? With your clothes on.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You are jealous.”
“I’m not. I just had an away game. Back to this cuddling business—you and Essie just snuggle? That’s it?”
He seems so skeptical, like he can’t believe it’s possible to touch someone and not want to take their clothes off.
“We’re affectionate people. We like to cuddle. So that’s what we do when we watch a movie.” It’s affection without intention. I wonder how many people touch Tristan without wanting something from him. “Maybe a weird concept for you, but not for us.”
“Oh.” His palm rests against the side of my neck, his gaze slow to lift. “I don’t know why I asked that.”
My heart clenches. Sometimes he’s such a broken little boy. “Maybe because you and my brother have slept with the same woman at the same time.”
Something like shame flashes behind his eyes before they drop. “Maybe. I didn’t want to cuddle with them, though. Or Flip.”
“Good.” I was nervous last night. My brother and Tristan routinely share a room during away games, and Flip can’t seem to keep his dick out of a vagina for more than twenty-four hours these days. Not that I’m any different, but at least it’s the same dick, as opposed to his vagina variety.
“Did Flip bring someone back to your room?” It’s hard not to look away.
“I said I wouldn’t fuck anyone else, and I didn’t.” His thumb sweeps across my jaw, and his palm shifts to rest against my throat.
“What’d you do then? Just watch?” I hate that he can feel my nervous swallow.
“No. Of course not.” His expression softens. “I went to Roman’s room and fell asleep on his couch.”
The wash of relief scares me. “Oh.”
“Were you worried?” he asks.
“I didn’t want to be.”
“It’s just you I want, Bea. I meant it when I said it.” He brushes his nose against mine. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, can I kiss you?”
“Yes, please.”
“Fuck, I love that coming from your sweet mouth.” He slants his over mine and groans as our tongues tangle.
“Hey! Can someone help me? Climbing a ladder with full arms is impossible!” Essie yells.
Tristan breaks the kiss. “I missed the way you taste. I need to be in you.”
My vagina really loves that idea, but the logistics are not the best. “Same, but you’ll have to wait.” I push on his chest. “Coming!”
He straightens and adjusts himself while Essie passes the stuff up before climbing into the loft. She flops back on the couch. “You joining us, Tristan?”
He glares at the screen and runs a rough hand through his hair. “Pass. I’m gonna hop in the shower when Flip’s done. You girls enjoy yourself.”
He climbs back down, and after a moment his bedroom door closes.
Essie gives me a look.
“He’s jealous,” I whisper.
“Because we’re watching a movie together?”
“Because we were making physical contact.”
She arches a brow. “Boy has it bad.”
“For my pussy.”
She makes a noise as she tops up my glass, but her smile is sinister.
“What is that look?” I gulp my wine.
She daintily sips hers while grinning. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You’re scheming.”