11. Chapter Eleven Adriana
The early morning light hadn’t yet chased away the shadows of the night when I heard the door to the bedroom creak open. My eyes snapped to the clock—it was far too early for Tristan to be home. Or late.
Fuck, I didn’t know. Whatever it was, it was terrible. Something twisted in my stomach, a mix of worry and relief, as I sat up in bed.
“Tristan?” I called out, my voice tight with concern.
He appeared in the doorway, his tall frame outlined against the dim hallway light. The sight of him always did something to me, made my heart kick up a notch, but this time it was different. His usually immaculate appearance was marred; there were cuts on his face and his clothes were disheveled. The vibrant blue of his eyes seemed dulled, weighed down by something unseen.
“Hey,” he said, his voice rough like gravel.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Absolutely not,” he replied, his words clipped.
I got out of bed, approaching him carefully. He was like a storm cloud ready to burst, and I had learned how to handle him gently on nights like this. Taking his hand, I led him to sit at the edge of the bed. My fingers lightly traced the scrapes on his cheek, wishing I could heal more than just the physical marks.
“I was worried about you,” I murmured, dampening a cloth to clean his wounds.
“Promised I wouldn’t get hurt,” he muttered, almost to himself, “didn’t intend to.”
I couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped me, even though the situation was anything but funny. “I didn’t know if you would keep your promise.”
He looked up at me then, those piercing eyes searching my face. They found something there that softened his expression, just slightly. His hand was on my stomach, his palm cupping my bump tenderly.
“Adriana,” he began, his voice a whisper now, “you’re the most important thing that’s ever happened to me. You and our babies.”
My breath caught at his words, at the raw honesty in them that was so rare for Tristan. Then, he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to my forehead.
His touch, his kiss, they were promises of their own—silent vows that no scrape or cut could tarnish. In that moment, despite the looming dawn and all it might bring, we were just us. Nothing else mattered.
The silence of the room wrapped around us, as heavy and tangible as the dawn’s creeping light. Tristan’s breathing, ragged from the adrenaline that had yet to leave his system, filled the space between us. With each shallow gasp, I sensed the storm of emotions he held at bay - a tempest that could shatter the fragile peace we clung to.
“Adriana,” he breathed out, a command more than a plea.
He kissed me again, this time more passionately.
His mouth moved over mine, a welcomed invasion that had me wrapping my arms around his neck. He tasted of whiskey and danger, of love and regret. I opened my mouth to his insistent tongue, willingly lost in the familiar taste of him.
My fingers tangled in his messy hair, tugging slightly that provoked a low growl from him. His hands moved down my back, pulling me closer as if he were trying to mold our bodies into one.
We broke apart for air, chests rising and falling frantically. His eyes were dark, emotion swirling within those icy depths. Without a word, he gathered me in his arms and carried me back to our bed. His lips found mine once again as we sank onto the mattress. The world outside continued its descent into morning, but for now, in the safety of Tristan’s arms, I was home.
His hands found their way to my face, his fingers and mouth trailing down my skin like a whisper of silk. I melted into him, my body responding to his touch in ways words could not express. God, how I loved this man. His strength, his vulnerability, his fierce loyalty – it all drew me towards him like a moth to a flame.
And then he was kissing me on the mouth again, but only for a second, tracing a path from my jaw to my collarbone and leaving hot trails down my skin.
I arched into him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch.
“Tristan,” I breathed out, lost in the sensation.
“Have you been touching yourself tonight?” he asked. “Knowing I’d come back and want you.”
I blushed at his words, the heat rushing to my cheeks as I met his gaze. There was a flicker of something in his icy blue eyes, an intensity that made my stomach flutter. “Maybe,” I murmured, the corner of my mouth tipping up into a slight smile at his teasing.
His breath hitched at that, a smirk playing on his lips. His hand slid over my bare thigh, fingers ghosting over sensitive skin, causing a shiver to pass through me.
“Bad girl,” he murmured against my neck, nipping softly before soothing the spot with his tongue. “That pussy is mine, and only mine.”
My breath hitched as I clutched at him, nails digging into his broad shoulders. He chuckled lowly against my skin, the sound vibrating through me and causing an ache deep within.
“Tristan,” I breathed out again, getting lost in his touch and pulling him closer.
He held me tighter against him, his movements becoming more urgent. His tongue continued its seductive dance along my collarbone, taking its sweet time as he took my earlobe between his teeth.
“Who does this belong to?” he murmured in a low growl. He eased one hand up the hem of my nightshirt, fingers tracing the soft skin of my pussy. “Tell me who it belongs to…”
His words were a whisper against my skin, igniting a flame within me that burned brighter with every passing second. I tightened my grip on his hair, tilting his head back to look into those captivating blue eyes.
“You,” I breathed out, giving in to the sensation. “It’s all yours…”
His smirk was devilish as he kissed me again, tongue plunging into my mouth in a daring invasion that left me breathless. With a swift movement, he had pushed off my nightshirt and was running his hands over every inch of bare skin he could find. The anticipation built like electricity between us, sparking with each brush of skin on skin.
“You’re just too bloody tempting,” he groaned, his accent thickening as he pressed me further into the bed. His fingers slid over the rise of my belly, reminding us both of the lives we had created.
He pulled away slightly to stroke the swell of my bump. His fingers were tender as they traced shapes on my skin, his gaze soft with a love that melted my insides. It was these moments of vulnerability that made me fall for him over and over again.
The weight of his stare was intoxicating; it bore into me as if trying to reach the very essence of who I was. His eyes were pools of molten blue, so deep that I felt I could drown in them. And God help me, I was more than willing to take the plunge.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, his voice a growl. “Claim you again.”
His words were a promise, a warning, one that had my breath hitching in anticipation. The playful glow in his eyes was replaced by an intensity that sent shivers down my spine, despite the warmth of his touch.
Tristan didn’t waste time with foreplay; he knew me too well for that. He was attuned to my body’s reactions, knowing when I needed him to go slow and when I craved his urgent, unyielding claim.
With a swift movement, he hovered over me, positioning himself between my trembling legs. His hands roamed over my body as if it were his own personal map, each touch igniting another part of me.
I gasped as he entered me, filling me completely. Despite how many times we’d been together, this feeling never got old. It was raw and passionate and all-consuming - the perfect embodiment of Tristan.
His pace was relentless, each thrust pushing me closer and closer to the brink. He wasn’t gentle this time, he didn’t let me get used to how big he was.
His movements were swift and beautiful, his muscular arms flexing as he moved above me. His skin glistened with sweat, making him glow like some sort of celestial being.
His eyes were locked onto mine, the deep blue of them almost ethereal in the dim light. His gaze was intense, making my heart flutter every time I met it. Every stroke, every touch, was a silent declaration of love, one that sent shivers down my spine.
I gasped as he went deeper, hitting places that had me seeing stars. My body reacted on instinct, arching up to meet his every thrust. There was an urgency to our movements that was wonderfully intoxicating. He didn’t even reach down to tease my clit when he normally did, only adding to my desperate need for release. My fingers dug into his back as I let out a low moan, the sound swallowed by his hungry lips on mine.
“Tristan,” I panted, my voice barely above a whisper as I clung onto him. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin.
“Mine,” he grunted out, his pace picking up. His movements were rough, but it was the kind of rough I craved—no, needed—from him. The bed rocked beneath us, the frenzied rhythm matching the erratic beats of my heart.
The familiar coil in my belly was tightening, signaling the nearing edge. He seemed to sense it too, as his movements became more demanding. Every passionate thrust brought me closer and closer until I teetered on the precipice.
I clutched at him desperately, nails digging into his sweat-slicked back as I felt myself begin to unravel. “Are you going to come for me, love?”
“Yes,” I hissed out as Tristan continued to drive into me relentlessly. “Yes...Tristan...”
Then he was spilling inside me, the hot surge pushing me over the edge as I cried out in ecstasy. His name became a mantra on my lips, the three syllables all I could manage amid the overwhelming wave of pleasure.
Still panting heavily, Tristan collapsed onto me, his broad shoulders rising and falling dramatically with each drawn-out breath. His arms were wrapped tightly around me and he breathed hot into my ear.
“Ade?”
“Yeah?”
“Things are going to get worse before they get better,” he said. “Whatever happens, promise me you’ll stay safe.”