Chapter 10 Four Seasons
TEN
Four Seasons
We end up at The Four Seasons downtown where Tristan has me sit on the bed as he crouches on the floor between my legs, holding a towel full of ice against my swollen knee.
My unfortunate injury has forced us both to press the pause button on this farewell.
Getting checked in and up to the room was a struggle.
But I don’t mind the extended chance I’m getting to look at him.
I stroke his hair, twisting it around and around my fingers.
His features come into sharper focus as the alcohol continues to work its way through my liver.
With my painted thumb, I trace the outline of his lower lip, memorizing the sharp curve and dip of it.
“Sorry,” I say. “I can’t stop touching you. ”
“I don’t want you to.”
What those words do to me… I can’t even pretend to understand it. “Then don’t go.”
“I have to. But you’re right. I’ll come back. I mean, I’ll miss Austin and Connor, and…well…” He gives me a glance and a small shrug.
“Me?”
He snorts. “I’d be an idiot to miss you.”
Because he didn’t say he wouldn’t, I slide my hand beneath his hair, around the back of his neck and bend to kiss him.
He rises to a full kneel, opening his mouth against mine, and another knot in my heart loosens to let him in.
My knee forgotten, I grab him, pulling him over me as I fall back onto the bed.
He crawls up my body and moves to lie beside me.
I kiss him with half-open eyes until I can’t keep them open anymore, and I surrender.
Not to him, but to the crazy, unexpected feelings I have for him, something I’ve never done because I’ve never felt this.
I wrap him in my arms, my hands finding the smooth skin of his back.
He draws his leg up, over my hip, urging me closer.
Like I am Austin. Like I’m the only thing he’ll miss.
“Archer, this would be my first time, but I want this. I want you. So much.” His leg tightens around me, putting us into a very intimate position.
He can feel every inch of how much I want him because I’m helpless this close to him.
We’re both hard, both slowly grinding closer.
He’s close enough that I feel his nipple rings through both our shirts.
The knowledge of them continues to mess with me.
He might be innocent, but he owns me. When his lips meet mine again, lying here in this position, I know something I’ve never known before.
I would do anything for him.
Absolutely fucking anything.
I have hours and hours left with him. And I have right now.
With his leg clamped around me and his hands in my hair, he stares straight into my eyes. “Did you hear what I said?” His lips slide against my mouth as he speaks. His cock glides alongside mine as he rolls his hips more firmly against me. “I want you.”
“I don’t—”
“Archer—listen to me.” His hands grip my hair—my head. He kisses my mouth. Demanding. “I’m leaving in the morning. I want this. And it has to be with you. Please don’t let me go.”
He’s verbalizing things I thought only I was feeling. He’s telling me I’m not in this alone. That I’m not alone anymore at all.
His words catch up with me. “You said it’s your first time?” I ask, out of breath.
“Because I want it to be you. It has to be you.”
I wish I were with it enough to parse out what he’s trying to tell me, but his firm body in my arms is too intense a distraction.
Besides, his tone is so urgent and sincere, I have no choice but to believe him, but this isn’t hypothetical anymore.
He’s talking about his actual virginity with the guy whose body is trapped between his legs.
I’m already shaking my head. “I can’t. You’re leaving.
It’s too much. Too fast.” Honestly I’m not sure I can handle it.
He moves against me in a way that says he knows otherwise. “Don’t make me beg. I want all of you.” The words are hushed and soft before the kissing and grinding starts again.
His fingertips find their way between us and slide down my chest seeking the skin of my stomach beneath my shirt.
I hold his face close to mine with shaking hands.
I take a breath, and so does he. I press my mouth into the corners of his before holding his forehead against mine.
I try to think beyond this moment, but it’s not easy with him so close.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m nervous,” I say, surprising myself.
“Shouldn’t I be the nervous one?”
“You aren’t?” I ask.
“I am. But not enough to take back what I said.”
“Tristan, you shouldn’t rush this. I don’t want to hurt you. ”
His eyes narrow. Determined. “I can handle it. But if you have a thing about not having sex with virgins, I can’t fix that tonight. The next time I see you, though—”
I put my hand over his mouth because I don’t want him to ever finish that thought.
I feel his smile grow beneath my palm. His eyes sparkle.
Some of the weight I’ve felt when I’ve been around him lately with our unfortunate series of encounters falls away with the lightness in his eyes.
Before I take my hand away, I say, “I don’t have a problem with virgins. ”
He kisses my palm before it slides down to his neck. “I don’t need to know everything about you right now, Archer.” He smiles again, and so I smile. He snuggles even closer.
I like him here so much, giving me his time and his beauty and his exuberant glow.
What I don’t like is the idea of letting a man like this out into a world that will dim him in any way—that might hurt him or possibly break him.
Outwardly, he’s got a certain strength. A boldness or bravado I can’t quite quantify, but behind all of that, there’s a fragility and sweetness to him that makes me almost desperate to keep him close. Keep him safe.
“You already know way too much about me,” I tell him while I absorb as much of his warmth as possible.
“And I still want you so fucking bad.”
Wow. This night has already exceeded my wildest dreams. And to think today started out so shitty. “You don’t think I’m crazy? Like a sociopath? Or a stalker?”
He laughs. “Maybe I’ve got a thing for bad boys.”
I lie back and throw my arm over my eyes to give us both some space and breathing room. “I climbed a tree in the middle of the night and broke my knee.”
“You think it’s broken?”
“Isn’t it?” I ask.
“Does it still hurt?” His willingness to go along with my subject change makes me think maybe he isn’t quite as ready to be alone in a hotel room with me as he says he is.
I might not be either, but there’s plenty to learn without dragging sex into the equation. “Yeah, it hurts. It’s the size of your head.”
“Maybe the gift shop’s open, and I can get you some Advil or something.”
The idea of swallowing a pill makes my stomach clench. It’s another reminder I’ve been drinking all day. He was right earlier. Our timing is tragically off. “I think I might need a minute.” I start to sit.
He sits with me, backing off. “You all right?”
“I’m trying.”
“How much did you drink tonight?” he asks.
“It wasn’t just tonight. I started drinking after you left this morning. I feel like shit.”
I glance at him, and as much as he looks disappointed, there’s a faint hint of serves you right, asshole in his gaze.
“I’ll get you some Advil.”
“The gift shop’s closed. It’s three a.m.”
“It’s a nice hotel. We’re in a suite. They’ll probably bring you some. I want you to feel better. It’s not like we have a ton of time.”
He’s right. I paid for the nicest room they had available, and it ended up being the premier executive suite.
It’s fucking huge, and it probably cost a lot.
They’d help me remove a dead body if I asked.
“Then see if they’ll bring a toothbrush, too, because I should probably go throw up.
” I lurch off the bed, stumbling from my throbbing knee and the lightning strike of a headache that hits once I’m upright again.
I am, in every way, a train wreck. Train wrecks are also caused by terrible timing.
“Jesus, Archer, be careful,” I hear him say.
All I have to do to get what’s left in my stomach to come up is imagine swallowing a few Advil.
I wouldn’t say I have a phobia of pills, but definitely a strong aversion to them.
I turn on the shower so Tristan doesn’t have to hear what’s happening.
On the plus side, when I’m done, I do feel better.
The headache is still front and center, though.
Either time is speeding up, or the hotel staff is extremely efficient in the middle of the night because in no time at all, Tristan comes into the bathroom with a toothbrush and toothpaste. I wave him off from my spot on the floor. “Go. This isn’t my best moment.”
He ignores me and turns off the bath water before sitting on the rim of the tub. I look up at him as he runs his fingers through my hair. “Feel better?”
“Some.” I rest my head on his lap and let him keep doing what he’s doing because it feels so good. “Sorry.”
“Would you have climbed my tree if you weren’t drunk?” he asks.
“Christ. No.”
“Then don’t be sorry. Are you done puking? There’s Advil out there when you’re ready.”
“You and your Advil…”
“All right. Come on.” He takes his hand out of my hair, and I lift my head again. “Can you stay awake?” he asks.
“There’s coffee, isn’t there?”
“If there is, I’ll make some.”
“Sorry I’m like this,” I say again, apologizing for a lot of things with those words.
I feel his lips press into my forehead. “When it comes to you, I’m not picky.”
“What does that mean?”
He ignores that, too, and helps me up from the floor. He stands close and watches while I brush my teeth. I don’t mind until I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. “Shit.” I lean forward to see the gash on my cheek.
“Yeah. You’re all banged up.”
“I can’t believe you left your house with me.”