CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT #2
Tristan held still, his chest rising sharply against my back. His arm tightened around my waist until there was no space between us.
Then he began to move.
Tristan’s lovemaking was raw. He was vocal. He was passionate. He didn’t stop telling me how much he wanted me.
His strokes were deep and deliberate, his mouth at my neck while his hand spread over my stomach.
I felt surrounded by him. His chest against my back. His breath in my ear. His body moving inside mine with an ease that should have frightened me more than it did.
“Make me forget, Tristan,” I begged.
His arm tightened around me.
“No.”
The word came out rough.
His hand slid lower, finding my clit.
“Stay with me.”
My breathing fractured.
“Why did you come back?” he asked.
“I told you.”
“Tell me again.”
“For you.”
His hips drove deeper.
I gasped, turning my face toward his.
“Again.”
“You.”
His fingers moved in time with every stroke.
“For you, Tristan.”
“Fuck.”
The word broke from him.
The pleasure rose too quickly, and I gripped his forearm, feeling the muscle tighten beneath my hand.
“Tristan—”
“I’ve got you.”
The words sent me over.
I cried out as my body clenched around him. He buried his face against my neck and followed, his movements losing their careful rhythm as he held me tightly against him.
He came inside me right there and then, his body quaking against my back. A moment later, he hissed in my ear that he hadn’t meant to do that.
“Fuck,” he admonished himself.
Before I could tell him it was all right, he was kissing me again.
And that was where we stayed for the entire morning and most of the afternoon. There wasn’t an inch of me he hadn’t tasted. There wasn’t an inch of him I hadn’t touched or traced.
He seemed to only show his vulnerability when he was inside me. The mask was gone. The anger extinguished.
Later, with him stretched beneath me, I tasted him until his hands twisted in the sheets. I gulped around his length, choosing to take it deep, until I gagged and sputtered, loving how filthy we were.
As I moaned around his cock, he let out a sharp exhale, as though defeated, telling me, “Your fucking sounds, Daze…”
Shortly after he wrung the fifth orgasm out of me, I was too tired to move. I didn’t clean myself up. I simply buried myself under his covers and fell asleep.
By the time I had awoken, the room was dim. Only one lamp glowed beside the bed. Sensing his presence, my eyes caught Tristan’s straightaway. He was sitting on a chair, still naked, watching me with an indiscernible expression.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“You got somewhere to be?”
I frowned, not liking his response. I glanced around the room. Caught the clock on the dresser.
Five p.m.
Anxiety and panic laced through me, but I remained calm. I took deep breaths, not wanting Tristan to see. Oliver wouldn’t be back yet. I was all right.
“Are you hungry?” he asked next, his voice less stiff than before.
I was starving. I should have said no and planned my departure, but I looked at Tristan. He watched me carefully, his face guarded.
“If I eat, will you eat too?” I wondered. “Because I don’t think booze will make you a fun dinner companion.”
His face gentled. “I have no desire to drink when you’re here.”
“You sure?”
There was only honesty in his gaze. “I’m sure, Daisy.”
I believed him.
Food was delivered twenty minutes later. Burgers and fries. So much saturated fat. I’d had nothing but clean food for years. I ate the meal, savoring every fry with my eyes closed. I felt Tristan watching me. His lips flinched and his eyes danced with amusement.
When we finished, the silence felt more pronounced.
Tristan broke it. “How much longer do I have you for?”
I glanced at the clock again. “I should be leaving soon.”
His eyes deadened. “I don’t share, Daisy. This isn’t who I am.”
The food suddenly didn’t sit well in my stomach. I looked down at my shaky hands. “He hasn’t touched me, Tristan.”
He didn’t respond for a few moments. “I got out of a messy relationship over a year ago. She didn’t want to slow down. I didn’t want to get my hands dirty trying to clean up after her. I haven’t been with a person since. It was my idea of healing and figuring shit out.”
He stopped talking now and just watched me. His teeth ran over his bottom lip, lost in thought now as I absorbed his words.
“I don’t do this,” I explained quietly. “You’re the only one, Tristan.”
“What did he do to you?”
I swallowed back bile and shook my head. He didn’t let it sit.
“You said this wasn’t revenge, yet your guy was hanging around two different women in that restaurant while you were forced to stand outside it, waiting on him.
He took you by the jaw and stared at your mouth, inspecting your fucking lips like you’d disappointed him, and you looked… fucking used to it.”
I couldn’t breathe now, but my eyes bore into Tristan’s. “I can’t talk about this.”
“Why not?”
My eyes glistened. “Because, like your ex, I’m also messy. You’ll spend your whole life trying to wash your hands clean of my issues, and you’ll never get the dirt off.”
“Maybe I like the dirt. Ever think of that?”
“No,” I said quietly, shocked by his response.
“Then come back. You got it? Tomorrow come back to me.”
The water had begun to cool by the time the memory released me.
I turned it off. Wrapped the towel around me. Stared at myself in the mirror and breathed.
Leaving Tristan was harder than I thought it would be. So many times I’d been in that room, thinking, Maybe I’ll stay right here with you.