Chapter 21
EVA
I twined my fingers in Tristan’s and stepped into my house. My father was working an overnight at the docks, and I wanted to do some damage tonight. I wanted to forget about everything, and I wanted to hurt them—hurt them both.
“Eva,” Tristan rasped and tugged me back for a hungry kiss. I melted into his arms, relishing the sweetness, the need that built in my core as he held me, hating how easily I forgot my anger when I was in his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You should be,” I murmured, and his eyes flicked to mine, golden and shining, as if he’d figured out that he wasn’t quite as forgiven as I was letting on.
I locked the door then led him up the stairs, never letting go of his hand, because as much as I wanted to hate him, as much as I wanted to hurt him, Tristan had shown up for me this week. He’d shown up for me since the first time we spoke.
I wanted to forgive him.
I wanted him back.
But I couldn’t take Cole, and they were a package deal.
When we reached my room, Tristan pressed me against the hallway wall, devouring me, our lips and tongues sliding together as we reconnected, famished, needy, fucking together again.
Cole leaned against the wall beside us, his blue eyes gleaming in the faint light. Watching, as commanded, but not touching. I wanted to reach out to him so fucking bad, wanted to heal the ache in my heart with his touch. But not as bad as I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me.
When Tristan finally pulled back, he smiled and nuzzled my nose with his. The tender gesture nearly broke my resolve, but I caught sight of Cole’s clenched jaw and remembered why we were here. Punishment.
Once in my room, I turned to face them both. Power thrummed through me, intoxicating and foreign. “Strip, Tristan.”
Cole’s sharp intake of breath filled the silence as Tristan obeyed. My mouth went dry at the sight of him—deep brown skin stretched over hard muscle, a faint trail of curls disappearing beneath his jeans.
“All of it,” I whispered.
When Tristan stood before me completely bare, cock already hard, precum beading at the tip, his piercings gleaming when the light caught them, I finally turned my attention to Cole. “Sit.”
“Eva—”
“Not. One. Fucking. Word.”
Tristan lifted my sweatshirt then moaned his appreciation as his hands encountered the bare skin of my hips. “So fucking gorgeous,” he murmured as he slid his hands up my sides to settle on my back so he could draw me to him and just fucking hold me.
I relaxed into his arms, leaning my cheek against his bare chest and inhaling his scent, relishing the warmth of his comfort. Tristan didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
Fuck.
I’d be as shitty and manipulative as they were if I went through with this. And I couldn’t bear that, couldn’t bear another stain on my soul. I already had so much to atone for.
I swallowed then did the right thing, even though it tore me in two.
“Stop,” I whispered, and Tristan immediately stepped away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, nothing but tenderness in his eyes. Yeah, using him was a shit move. Giving him hope was a shit move too. Giving myself hope was even shittier. Did I really think I’d be able to fuck Tristan and not hand him my heart again?
I looked at Cole, sitting in a plastic chair beside my flimsy desk, pretending like he didn’t care, but with every muscle in his body tensed like a predator waiting to spring, a visible bulge straining against his sweatpants.
“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed and ashamed of myself. “I wanted to hurt him. But—”
“But you’re not ready to forgive me,” Tristan finished my sentence for me. “You don’t want to use me.”
I shook my head, flushing with discomfort.
He slid a finger under my chin and tilted my face up to look at him. “You’re so fucking good, Eva,” he said, his voice soft with wonder. He paused for a long moment, and I waited for him to step away. Instead, he took a deep breath and said, “I want this.”
I shook my head. I didn’t like what doing this said about me as a person. I couldn’t fuck him and discard him, even if he deserved it.
“Use me, Eva,” he growled, not allowing me to look away.
His mouth found the sensitive spot behind my ear.
“I’m going to repeat this until you believe it.
I’ll take whatever I can get of you, however I can get it.
” I moaned as he nibbled on my neck then pulled back.
“You don’t have to forgive me tonight,” he whispered against my skin.
“I swear, you can go back to hating me in the morning. You can hate me now too. Just let me have you, I’m begging. ”
I searched his eyes, hunting for the lie. “You mean it.”
“Let me prove it,” he murmured, pulling me close so he could kiss my forehead. I melted as he held me, refusing to look at Cole’s intense stare just behind Tristan. “Let me show him what he can’t have, what he’s lost. Please.”
“What you’ve both lost,” I reminded him. “And what you cost me.”
He flinched then pressed his lips together before nodding. “Yeah, all that too.”
This was so fucked up.
And I wanted it so fucking bad.
Finally, I nodded.
Tristan’s shoulders sagged with relief. “That’s my good girl.”
I snorted. “No. I’m not your good girl, not today.”
Tristan’s answering smile was sweet and soft. “Yeah, you are. Nothing’s gonna change that.”
He cupped my cheeks in his hands and kissed me, his lips moving over mine in a gentle dance that was more seduction than hunger.
Tristan swiped at the tear sliding down my cheek then licked it off his thumb before crushing me against him in a fierce hug. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. “I promise.”
He couldn’t promise that. He couldn’t do anything about Jed Carter’s insatiable need to destroy the team—to destroy Alek and his son. He couldn’t do anything to save my father or myself. But he could make me feel better now. He could help me forget.
I reached for the waistband of my sweats, but Tristan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble that made my knees weak.
“Let me, kitten.”
My hands fell to my sides without conscious thought.
“See? That’s my good girl,” he murmured. “So perfect, letting me take care of you.”
He knelt as he pulled my pants down my legs, his lips brushing my hip bone as he helped me step out of them. My chest tightened at his reverent touches.
“Tristan—”
“Shh.” He rose slowly, trailing kisses up my body as he went. His mouth found the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Let me.”
Before I could ask what he meant, his hands were at my panties, sliding them down over my hips and my calves with the same worshipful care. When I stood naked before them both, Tristan’s sharp intake of breath eased the pressure in my chest.
“Fuck, look at you.” His voice was rough. “Every inch of you is so goddamned gorgeous.”
“Pretty words won’t fix this,” I managed, but my voice was breathless.
“They won’t,” he agreed as he guided me backward until my legs hit the bed. “But you deserve them anyway.”
I sat, and for a moment, I hated the way my body looked, the way my fat rolled at my stomach in this position, until he dropped to his knees and stared at me with reverence in his eyes.
“Let me worship this perfect body. Let me make you feel so good, you forget your own name.” Tristan’s hands settled on my knees, his thumbs gently stroking over my skin, leaving fire in their wake.
A whimper escaped my throat before I could stop it.
“That’s it, kitten.” His hands pushed my knees apart, and I let him, helpless against the command in his voice. “Wider. Let me see this pretty pussy I’ve missed so much.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Cole shift in his chair, palming his cock through his sweatpants, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. The knowledge that he watched, that he could see how easily Tristan unraveled me, should have made me feel powerful.
Instead, it made me ache for everything I’d lost.
“Look at me, Eva.” Tristan’s thumb traced along my inner thigh, making me shiver. “Not him. Me.”
When my eyes met his, the intensity there stole my breath.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, settling between my legs. “So soft, so perfect. I dream about this pussy, kitten. Every fucking night. And then I wake up hard and desperate for you.”
Tristan leaned closer, his breath hot against my core, warm air ghosting over my slick folds. I trembled, my hands gripping the sheets as he gripped me tightly, his fingers digging into my thighs.
“Already so wet for me. Fuck, I can smell how much you want this.”
He slid his tongue through my folds with aching slowness and groaned, the sound vibrating through me.
“Taste so fucking good,” he praised between licks. “So sweet and wet. This pussy was made for my mouth.”
He worked me methodically, his tongue exploring every sensitive spot. When he reached my clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, I arched off the bed, crying out with the intensity of my need.
“That’s it,” he praised. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
He worked me with his mouth and fingers, praising me between strokes of his tongue.
“Taste so sweet, kitten.”
“So fucking responsive.”
“Absolutely drenched for me.”
Each word sent heat spiraling through me, but it was the devotion in his voice that undid me, like he was worshipping me, and my body was the altar.
When he slipped a finger inside me, I gasped at the intrusion.
“So tight, kitten. Gripping my finger so hard.” He added a second finger, stretching me as he pumped them slowly. “Can you take more? Can you take what I want to give you?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Please, yes.”
He curled his fingers inside me, finding those nerves that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
“There you are,” he murmured smugly, working that spot until I was writhing beneath him. “So fucking perfect, aren’t you, kitten?”
I couldn’t form words, could only clutch at his shoulders as he dragged me higher and higher. Behind him, I heard Cole’s ragged breathing, the quiet rustle of fabric as he shifted in his chair.