Chapter 39
KATIE
Tristan’s lips are warm as they slide against my own.
Saltwater mingles with his taste. I get little sips of him as he tests my mouth and I test his.
Part of me absently thinks that I can’t believe I’m kissing him again.
A kiss that is already taking on a life of its own as his lips move more urgently against my mouth and his pulse shudders and stumbles alongside mine.
It’s a kiss I want to last forever, but one I also want to deepen immediately. It feels like a kiss I’ve waited years for, and the thought makes me push closer and clutch at the firm muscle of his shoulders.
He makes a pleased sound in his throat. “Katie,” he breathes before he slips my bottom lip between his teeth and gives it a gentle tug.
Sparks kindle in my stomach and my mouth parts on a gasped breath.
“You like this?”
In response, I lick his bottom lip, and he chuckles.
“Shut up, Tristan.”
He laughs again, this time into my mouth, a small breathless huff that makes me giddy.
“You would.”
He nips at my bottom lip again. “I would what?”
I feel like I’m melting. “You would be like this,” I whisper.
His arm slides around my back, tugging me flush, forcing me to tilt my head, giving him more control.
“I would, wouldn’t I?” He feathers a kiss on the corner of my mouth and I chase his lips with mine with a frustrated sound. I swallow the laugh he makes.
He groans and his mouth parts and his tongue slides against mine. The world tilts.
Our kiss deepens, swirls and eddies. He crushes the breath from me with the press of his body. I dig my fingers into his back so hard it must hurt. His nips are more like bites, his mouth demanding and urgent.
Mine is just as fierce, matching the wildness inside me, a heavy, growing sensation that makes me restless.
When he sucks on my tongue, I cry out into his mouth.
“Katie,” he pants. He’s trying to grab my butt and tread at the same time. He’s trembling with frustration. I’d laugh, but I feel it too. It feels like someone cracked the lid just enough for some steam to get out but also turned up the heat.
The waves lap gently at our bodies, in cool contrast to the throbbing ache I feel. His thumb finds my nipple, and I arch. His mouth is on my throat and mine is at his collarbone, licking and sucking for every gentle bite he takes of me.
“More,” I pant.
“More,” he agrees.
He’s hard against my stomach. He’s thick and hot even in the cool water. Each restless shift of our bodies seems to make his erection grow, and all I can think is that Tristan is hard for me. My best friend. How long has he felt like this? Does he want this like I do?
He sucks on my skin and my thoughts scatter.
“Tristan,” I beg. My hand slips into his hair to tug his mouth from my neck. “Tristan, please.”
His eyes are hazy and his mouth is swollen, and he’s never looked sexier. He blinks slowly. “Take it slow.”
“I am not taking it slow. I feel like this for the first time ever.”
He laughs softly, then claims my mouth.
Confident girls ask for what they want. Turns out I didn’t need the advice; I just needed to be with Tristan.
“Get on the dock,” I pant against his lips.
I claim the bottom one for myself briefly before I hiss, “Tristan, get on the fucking dock.” I slip out of the cage of his arms and stroke for the dock.
He’s faster, hauling himself up in an impressive ripple of muscle, then helping me up too, grinning at me.
He eases us back onto the wood and props an arm behind his head. His biceps flexes in a smooth, mouthwatering curve. I set my mouth to it, and he chuckles. His skin is salty and smooth, and I bare my teeth gently against the taut edge.
“What the hell, Tristan?”
His hands are on my ribs, grasping hungrily for more, like he wants to gather me up and drown in me.
“Yeah,” he rasps. His fingers roll my right nipple. Stars burst behind my eyes. “What the hell is right.”
I feel my control slipping away, can feel myself melting and my thoughts scattering. I trail my mouth over his shoulder and down his chest. He shudders under me. I test the give of his chest muscles, the hard curve of his waist.
“Katie.” He urges me up. “Katie, I need you to help me.”
I let him lift me until our gazes meet. I’m sitting on his hips. He’s hard against his stomach when I look down, thick and gently curved.
“With that?”
He lets out a breathless huff of laughter. His thumbs dig restlessly into my hips. “It’ll get more impressive as I warm up, trust me.”
It’s my turn to laugh, giddy and airless. “I think it’s impressive enough.” I skate my index finger up the edge of his cock, and he makes a bitten-off sound of want.
“God, Katie.” His eyes are heavy. “This is what I need help with. I need to go slow.”
“I don’t want slow,” I start to say.
“No, sweetheart, you don’t understand.”
His hand spans my stomach before his thumb traces down, hovers over my clit. We both watch as his thumb parts my pussy. My lids drop at the soft twist of need that goes through me.
“What don’t I understand?”
He strokes me, circling my clit with his thumb, gently, then faster. My hips seek his hand with every motion.
“How much I want you, Katie,” he rasps. “How fast I’ll finish.”
I shudder. “I don’t mind.”
“Good,” he breathes. “That’s good. I’m going to come like this.”
I shift, riding his hand now as the pleasure curls and flutters inside me. It feels like sparks are going off inside me when he presses the heel of his palm against my clit.
I scrape my nails over his stomach. His jaw clenches when my fingers circle his dick. It pulses in my hand. I want to make this good for him too.
“Katie,” he grits. “I’m serious. I will come and I want you to get there first.”
“I will,” I pant, rising on his hand, pushing myself against him, taking, taking, taking in a way I never have before. I don’t feel ashamed. I don’t wonder if Tristan likes it.
I can tell how much he likes it by the way his neck cords and half curses slip between his lips. I’m stroking him, but messily, faltering every time he edges me higher.
He doesn’t seem to mind as he watches me with fascination.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his chin jerking to the side and his body arching. I grip him more firmly. “Fuck, like that.”
And then my world is tilting and the orgasm darkens my vision at the edges, spilling over into pulses of heat through my stomach. It tightens my legs and my pussy pulses, and it’s so pleasurable it makes me shake.
“What do you need, Tristan?”
“That,” he pants, his lids heavy and his mouth parted.
“Not helpful,” I whisper. “Though I seem to remember you saying you like a little pain.” I scrape my nails over the edge of his groin and he groans hoarsely and comes. His abs contract, and hot liquid spills over my hand and onto his stomach.
“Katie.” He shudders. His dick pulses in my hand. “God, Katie.”
I ease my hand off and slide to the side, feeling warm and loose. I curl into his side and drift off to the sound of the wind and the waves.
I wake to find Tristan looking at me. His gaze is focused but gentle, then it sharpens as he realizes I’m awake.
His dick is soft now, resting in the dampness on his stomach that he hasn’t cleaned.
I feel deliciously heavy between my legs as I shift.
My cheek is on the firm edge of his biceps, and I wonder how long he let me sleep there.
I don’t know what to say. Now that the heat of the moment is gone, uncertainty fills the void. We didn’t even talk about it beforehand. Things just spiraled from touching to more, like idiot teenagers, except we’re not teenagers and we should know better.
Did I just ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me?
I shut my eyes again and roll onto my back, off the arm he let me sleep on, and the loss of his warmth makes me want to cry.
A future unfurls before me. In it, I watch Tristan toast to his new wife. They kiss. It feels like someone is twisting a knife between my ribs.
I slept with him.
I want more.
He’s marrying someone else.
Oh god.
I forgot. How could I forget?
Because he makes me feel cherished. Because he just gave me the best experience I’ve ever had with a guy.
Every day with Tristan Prince feels like sugar being poured directly on my tongue, like glitter is dissolving in my blood.
Just like it does every time we’re in the same room, my focus narrows to him and only him, and everyone else falls away.
I have to fix this. I can’t be this girl—the cliché. The friend lusting after the hot guy who agreed to help her with men. The bodyguard falling for the principal. The help who wants the second son. That girl gets hurt. Every single time.
I shove down the panic that threatens to drown me and chance a glance at Tristan. He looks sated. Heavy lidded and content, one arm behind his head, like a drowsy, well-pleasured god.
Tristan isn’t panicking. Maybe because he’s not thinking of this like I am. I’m making more out of this than it needs to be. I need to play it cool, like he is. I take a long breath.
“Katie?” His voice is hushed. “Are you okay?”
There is only one way to salvage this.
I tip my head toward him and give him a smile. I’m not sure if it reaches my eyes. Play it cool.
“Just recovering.”
He scans my face, his expression faintly concerned. “Was that—uh—good for you?”
I nod, and a smile cracks his face. “You?”
“I think you know it was,” he teases.
I raise my brows. “Do you usually finish that fast?”
He chokes a laugh. “Damn, Bailey. Don’t hold back. And no. I don’t.” His smile falls, and his expression looks like he means more than what he’s saying, and I feel so damn out of my depth.
“I don’t either,” I say lightly. “In my, um, limited experience.” I sit up and cast about for my dress. “So thank you, I guess. For broadening it. It’s good practice.”
I can’t meet his gaze as I pull my dress back on over my damp skin. He scoops up his clothes and dresses more slowly, and I’m not sure what he’s thinking.
“Practice?” he says softly.
I dart him a glance. His gaze is unreadable, his shirt dangling from his fingers. God, he’s handsome. I can’t believe I touched him. I know what his forearms feel like under my fingers. I know that his happy trail is softer than it looks and that he has a freckle on his abs that begs for a tongue.
I nod. Those full lips purse together.
“Okay, Bailey,” he says finally. He runs a hand through his hair and my eyes go helplessly to the flex of his arm and his shoulder. “Practice.”
I nearly shudder in relief. He’s buying it. I didn’t let on too much. I didn’t screw everything up.
And still, when we’re walking over the Crownhaven grass and he’s quiet as we go from moonlight to shadow and back again, I want to scream. I don’t know how he feels and it’s so unlike him to not just tell me.
I clear my throat, and he glances over as we near where the path forks.
“Tristan?”
“Hmm?”
“Did we ruin everything?”
His gaze sharpens. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I can’t lose you as a friend.” My words have a desperate edge, one I feel deep inside me, slicing into my stomach.
He scans my face before he shakes his head, then looks back at the path.
I watch his perfect profile as he walks—straight, proud nose, full lips, hard jaw.
Probably the best-looking guy I’ll ever know.
The best in bed too. The kindest and the most generous and the funniest, and I can never, ever screw things up with him.
We’re at the steps of his house when he finally looks back at me. “You will never lose me.” His words sound like a vow. They raise the hairs on the back of my neck. “Never. I promise.”