Chapter 9
He screws up his face. “What are you talking about, Anderson?” he scoffs. “Get your stuff. We’re going to lunch.”
What?
“Are you listening to me, Tris?” I stand up.
“No. I’m not. You’re talking shit.” He puts his hands on my hips and smirks down at me. “Why wouldn’t we see each other when we get on so well? That’s the most ridiculous thing that’s ever come out of your mouth.”
The door opens, and we both turn suddenly.
Marley’s eyes widen in horror as she sees me in Tristan’s arms. “Oh ... sorry.” She winces.
Shit.
Tristan steps back from me, clearly annoyed at the interruption.
“That’s okay.” I force a smile. “What is it, Marley?”
“I was going to see if you wanted lunch, but ...”
“No, she’s having lunch with me,” Tristan asserts.
My eyes flick to him. “I’m fine for the moment, Marley. Thank you.”
Marley’s wide eyes dart between Tristan and me, and I can almost hear her brain ticking ... just great. How the heck do I explain this?
Tristan glares at Marley and raises an impatient eyebrow.
“Oh,” she stammers, all flustered. “I’ll just be at reception.”
Tristan’s nostrils flare in annoyance. “Okay.”
She points outside with her thumb. “If you need me—”
“Thank you, Marley,” he interrupts her.
She smiles broadly and closes the door, and his eyes come back to me. “Where were we?”
I smile and rub my hand down his arm. “Tris. We can’t see each other anymore.”
He brushes my hand off. “What?”
“We can’t see each other.”
“ You’re dumping me ?”
“Nobody is dumping anybody,” I say softly. “I really, really like you. The guy I went away with was perfect.”
“So why can’t we see each other?” he scoffs.
“Because of the obvious.”
“Like what?” he snaps. His anger is building.
“Tristan, because you are Tristan Miles, and I’m too old for you. I have children and responsibilities, and you like young blondes who are into fashion.”
He narrows his eyes. “Don’t be fucking funny, Anderson.”
“I’m not. You told me that yourself.” I take his hand in mine. “Tris, if circumstances were different and you were ...” I pause as I try to articulate what I want to say. “If you were older than me and say ... had been divorced and had a few kids, we could maybe try and see each other.”
“What?” he snaps again. “You won’t see me because I don’t have children? That’s fucking ridiculous, Anderson. Can you hear yourself right now?”
“Don’t raise your voice at me,” I warn him.
“Shut up, and come to lunch with me.” He takes me into his arms, and his lips drop to my neck. Is he for real? “Tristan.” I sigh. Jeez. “Stop it.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t like me, because I know you do.”
“I do. I’m not denying it. I adore you.”
“So?”
“I don’t like you ... like that.”
He stares at me, as if trying to process my words. “Like what?”
I’m just going to have to come out with it. “Tris, you aren’t exactly boyfriend material for me.”
“What?” he snaps in an outrage. He points to his chest. “ I’m ... not boyfriend material?” he whispers. “I’m great fucking boyfriend material, Claire.”
I exhale ... here we go. He’s angry now. “No. You’re not.”
“If anyone around here is not partner material, it’s you.”
I cross my arms and watch him as he begins to pace, furious at my rejection.
“You, Claire Anderson ... are too old for me.”
“I know.”
“And you”—he points at me—“have too many children.”
“Precisely.”
“And I’m not into kids. Especially when they aren’t mine.”
I hold my hands out wide. “Like I said.”
“And I don’t want to be with someone who can’t be spontaneous, anyway.”
“Good. You shouldn’t.” I smile.
“Don’t be fucking condescending, Anderson.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you finished?”
“No. I’m not,” he growls. “You piss me off.”
“I gathered that.”
“Stop it.”
I pull him into my arms and run my fingers through his dark hair. His big beautiful brown eyes search mine, and he puts his hands on my hips. “You really are a beautiful man, Tris,” I whisper.
He pulls me closer.
“You deserve the best.” I kiss his lips as I run my fingers through his stubble. “I’m not her; I’m sorry. I wish I was. I really do. We are at different stages of our lives. You are just about to settle down and start a family, and I am finishing with mine.”
“Stop talking.”
“We both know that this isn’t going anywhere. I’m not a casual-sex kind of person, and you are.”
“Shut the fuck up, Anderson.” He kisses me softly and with just the right amount of tongue. My stomach flutters. “One last time?” he whispers against my lips.
God, it’s so tempting ... “No.”
He pushes me up against the wall and slides his hand up my skirt. “Let me fuck you on your desk.” His mouth drops to my neck, and I giggle as I look up at the ceiling. “I told you I was going to do it. Right here, right now.”
“Tristan.” I laugh as I push him off me. “You gave me an option: France or my desk. I took France. You don’t get the desk. Now you need to go.”
He stares at me for a moment. “You’re actually serious about this?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to see me ever again?” He frowns.
“No.”
His mouth falls open. He really is shocked. “But we had the best weekend.”
“I know. It completely sucks that you’re a soul-sucking bastard player.” I turn him and push him toward the door. “Now, I need to work.”
He chuckles, amused at my description. “This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” He smirks.
I laugh and keep pushing him toward the door.
“You’re missing out on some magical dick.” He grabs his crotch.
“Undoubtedly.”
We get to the door, and he turns toward me.
We stare at each other for a moment, and he steps forward and pins me to the door.
He grabs my face in his hands, and his tongue swipes through my open lips.
My knees weaken, and he grinds his hard cock up against me.
He turns my head and puts his mouth to my ear. “Guess what, Anderson?” he whispers.
“What?” I smile.
“We’re not over ... till ... I say we’re over.”
He pulls off me and leaves. The door clicks, and my chest rises and falls as I stare at the back of it. A broad smile crosses my face.
Tristan fucking Miles.
I sit back down at my desk and get back to work, and five minutes later my door bursts open. “Are you serious?” Marley gasps as she closes it behind her. “What the fuck did I just see?” she whispers.
“Nothing.” I open my email. “Forget you saw it.”
“Claire Anderson. I demand to know what the hell is going on with that god.”
“He’s not a god. He’s just a random guy.” I hit my keyboard with force. Who am I kidding? He’s totally a god.
“And so how did it go from hating his guts to him groping you in your office?”
I continue typing. I can’t even look at her. “He may have been in France.”
“No way,” she says.
“We may have ... hooked up.”
“Holy hell.” She puts both of her hands in her hair.
“A little bit.”
“Ahh ... get the fuck out of here,” she cries. “Are you frigging kidding me?”
“I wish I was.”
“What happened?” she whispers as she leans in. “I need all the details.”
There’s a knock at the door. “Yes?” I call.
An employee named Alexander pokes his head around. “Don’t forget we have that meeting in five minutes.”
“Oh.” My face falls. I completely forgot all about it. “Yes, of course. See you in the conference room.”
Alexander closes the door, and I turn to Marley, who is waiting patiently for the details. “I don’t want to talk about it here. Let’s finish work early today and go to a bar for a staff meeting.”
She smiles mischievously. “Yes. We need to discuss Miles Media in great detail.”
Marley sits down at the bench table and puts my glass of wine in front of me. The bar is crowded and bustling with a four-o’clock rush. It seems everyone wants a drink before they head home.
I sip my wine, and Marley stares at me. “And?”
“And what?”
“Don’t you hold out on me, Claire Anderson. I need all the fucking details.”
I drag my hand down my face. “God, Marley,” I whisper. “It was like a movie.”
She listens intently.
“I got to the conference, and he was the opening speaker. I went to walk out, and he said, ‘Claire Anderson, sit back down.’”
Her eyes widen.
“Then we had banter for a few days, and I was still hating him. But surprisingly, he’s witty and funny.”
“I knew he would be,” she interrupts. “Smart guys are always witty.”
“Anyway, one night on the way back from dinner, he kissed me.”
She holds her hands up and dances on her chair.
“He wanted to come back to my room, and I said no and locked him out.”
“You idiot,” she gasps. “Are you fucking crazy? Have you seen the level of hotness of that guy?”
I raise my eyebrows and smirk.
Her mouth falls open. “Don’t tell me.”
“Yep.”
“And?” she gasps.
“Off-the-hook hot,” I whisper.
She grabs my arm and squeezes it hard. “You had sex ... with Tristan fucking Miles?”
“Shh, keep your voice down,” I whisper as I look around at the people surrounding us. “Yes. A lot of sex. In fact, I fucked his brains out.”
She puts both hands over her mouth in shock. “What the hell, Claire?”
“I know.” I sip my wine. “But then he came into the conference and said that he had to leave unexpectedly and said goodbye to the group and didn’t say goodbye to me.”
She frowns. “What? I’m confused ...”
“But then I got back to my room, and there were red roses and a card asking me to go to Paris for the weekend with him.”
Her eyes widen. “Fuck, this story is just getting better and better. Did you go?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes nearly pop from their sockets. “And?” she cries.
I shake my head, unable to believe this story myself. “It was incredible. We had the best time.”
“Oh my God, this is ...” She shakes her head as she tries to reconcile what’s happened.
“But today, he showed up unexpectedly, and I ended it.”
“What?” She screws up her face. “Why?”
“Oh, come on, Marley. We both know it’s not going anywhere.”
She stares at me.
“He’s young and handsome and a player. I’m in bed at nine o clock on Saturday night, dead tired. He doesn’t do long term, and I can’t really do anything else.”
“So?”