16. Evie
I didn’t expect my first night in Aunt Myrtle’s to be with a bunch of guys, but I don’t hate it. It’s temporary and besides, this house is huge. There are enough bedrooms for everyone, enough space for us to spread out.
But also, there’s safety in numbers. I feel better knowing Tristan has his crew here because what happened earlier today gave me the willies. All Cole did was stare, but that was enough for me. I’ve never told Tristan this, because I’m afraid of what he’d do, but when I ended things with Cole in high school, he kind of stalked me for a while. It was mild, like leaving notes on my windshield in public places or showing up where I was hanging out with my friends. I didn’t like it, but I figured he’d quit once he found someone else.
But then one night, he came to my house really, really late. Daddy was on a business trip and Maribelle had gone off to college, so I was home alone. Cole jumped the gate and threw pebbles at my bedroom window like a romantic antihero, refusing to leave until I threatened to call the cops. He got the hint, but there were several times afterward where I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.
I’d already been taking jiu jitsu classes for a while, so I felt somewhat empowered, but that’s when I started carrying my Ruger. Daddy had gifted both Maribelle and me nine millimeters when we turned sixteen— hers had a purple handle, mine was turquoise—but I’d always kept mine locked in a case at home because I wasn’t into all that. Cole, however, made me think twice. There was a darkness in him that I’d glimpsed during our ill-fated relationship. Just because he’d never hurt me, didn’t mean he never would.
I moved on and thought he had too. But when I came home from college, the flirting started up again, touchy and teasing like it was all a funny game. Only it’s not funny; it’s creepy. The fact that his interest has lasted this long, especially unrequited, genuinely makes me wonder about his mental health. It’s not like he’s lonely—he gets around. I’ve seen him out at the bars, draped over unsuspecting girls who don’t know what’s simmering beneath that cocky charm. But he always comes back to little ol’ me.
The way he looked at Tristan today keeps running through my mind, like a scary movie I shouldn’t have watched. He hates him, I know. The night they fought was the first time I’d seen Cole explode in a long time and it’d scared me. Tristan might have beat his ass, which was both satisfying and a relief, but it’s been haunting me, too. Tristan humiliated Cole that night, and I can’t help but wonder if Cole’s been biding his time since then.
“Where’s the other cord?” calls Tristan, startling me from my thoughts. He’s in the living room with Finn, setting up the TV so we can watch Netflix. Timmy and Malachi went out for pizza and beer, but they should be back any moment.
“Which cord?” I reply from the kitchen, where I’m putting dinnerware into Aunt Myrtle’s dated, cherry cabinets. Well, I guess they’re my cabinets now. Maybe one day I’ll switch them out with something a little more modern.
“Never mind,” he says. “Found it.”
I smile to myself, closing a freshly filled drawer of silverware. He’s been at it since we got back earlier, unpacking boxes and helping me put things away. He even installed a security system. “I like having eyes everywhere,” he’d said, ordering additional cameras from the company’s website. I’d just downloaded the app, so I could “have eyes” too. “This house is pretty big, so it warrants more coverage. That front gate, especially.”
Tristan’s like a whirling dervish, stopping and starting and moving on to the next project before I can blink, but the fact he’s doing it for me makes my heart melt like ice cream on a hot day.
Tristan lingers in the doorway, snickering as I try to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to sleep on this queen-sized bed when all of my old sheets are full-sized.
“Shut up,” I laugh, giving up. “I didn’t even think about sheets.”
“You’re forgiven, seeing you’ve had about a million other things on your mind today.” He comes in, yanking off the fitted sheet and tossing it onto the loveseat in the corner. “Just use the flat sheets. No big deal.”
Ridiculous sheet situation aside, it’s a beautiful bed. Made of varnished mahogany and over a hundred years old, the slender posts and intricately carved headboard make it so unique. Unlike the cherry wood cabinets downstairs, I wouldn’t dream of altering this.
“Speaking of sheets, did you give the guys any for their beds?” I ask, looking at Tristan.
“Don’t worry about them,” he says, shrugging a shoulder. “They can take care of themselves.” I tilt my head, looking on expectantly until he nods. “I showed them that box in the hall. I’m sure they can figure it out from there.”
“Good.” Satisfied I’ve done as much as I possibly can, I kick off my flip flops and stroll over to the en suite bathroom. “If you need me, I’ll be in the shower.”
“Is that an invitation?”
My heart dips crazily. Tristan loves to tease and play. I know that he’s attracted to me, and he wouldn’t do anything purposely cruel, but it’s still hard to accept that he might actually feel some of what I’ve carried for so long. I don’t want to come across as clingy, so I’ve kept some distance today, keeping it friendly. Light. But then he says something like that and all I can think about is him fingering me in the garden.
Pausing in the doorway of the bathroom, I look back at him. Sure enough, he’s leaning against the wall, watching me with the sexiest smirk I have ever seen.
“It can be.” Turning to face him, I pull off my tank top and drop it to the floor. Tristan’s smile fades and then deepens again as he takes in my breasts. Good. Looks like I caught him off guard for once. Releasing my hair from its bun, I step back until I’ve disappeared into the bathroom. Silence. My stomach flutters in anticipation.
Leaving the door open, I turn on the water, letting it get hot as I strip out of the rest of my clothing. I’ve just started lathering up with my favorite lemongrass soap when Tristan’s blurry form appears on the other side of the frosted glass. My heart kicks, crashing frantically against my ribs as I hurry up and rinse off. As much as I used to obsess over him noticing me, I didn’t think he ever actually would. But now he’s here, and he hasn’t just noticed me. He wants me.
The shower door opens and Tristan steps in, his eyes darkening as they trail slowly down my body. I’m doing the exact same thing to him, but it’s hard not to shy from the scrutiny of his gaze when he looks like that . He’s even more beautiful than I imagined, radiating barely checked power and strength. An image of him in the ring comes to mind, his lean, muscled body moving in the choreography of the fight. And then that night with Cole and DJ, how instinctively he’d moved to defend himself … and me. Every part of him is perfect, even the parts that are scarred.
I’ve seen some of his tattoos, like the family crest on his right wrist—he got that when he was pretty young—and the full sleeves on his arms, colorful, cohesive dreamscapes of flowers and Roman numerals and Celtic symbolism, even a lion. Gaelic words run down the left side of his ribs: Tiocfaidh ár lá . I want to ask what it all means, what inspired him, but he bullies me back against the tiled wall and crashes his mouth down on mine.
Gripping my hips, he wedges one of his thick, powerful thighs between mine. I run my hands up his muscled arms and over his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his smooth, wet skin. He kisses me like he’s devouring me, leaving my lips for my throat and then the dip between my collarbones. Hooking an arm around my lower back, he pulls me into him, forcing my body into an arc like it’s offering itself to him, and he accepts, sucking my nipple into his mouth. My breasts are small, but they’re extremely sensitive, and hot pulses of pleasure throb through my body with every swipe of his tongue.
He continues down my body, dragging his lips and teeth over my stomach and thighs, until he’s on his knees. I stare down at him, panting, wet in every way there is to be. Staring up at me, he bites down on my hip bone, pulling my skin with his teeth as his fingers part the very center of me. “Did you ever think about this?” he asks, rubbing my pussy the way he did in the garden. Only this time his finger slips slowly inside, gliding up until it can’t go any further.
“I mostly thought …” I manage, swallowing as he starts to work his finger in and out. “About kissing.”
“What kind of kissing?” With a wicked smile, he lifts my leg to his shoulder and then licks my pussy so deeply that my standing knee buckles.
I let out a strangled moan, my hands slipping on the wall as they grapple for something to hold. Reaching around, he grabs my ass and holds me still. Kissing is exactly what this is like: French kissing, his tongue slipping and sliding up and down and in and out. He gorges himself on me, finessing me with his mouth until I’m riding his face. No one’s ever done it to me like this, like they can’t get enough. I’ll never recover from the crass things he’s doing to my clit.
“Give it up, Evie,” he coaxes, kneading my ass. He slides his fingers back inside me, thrusting them to the tempo of his tongue.
“Oh!” I cry, grabbing his head. I can barely hear him over the thundering in my ears as I hurtle at warp speed toward an orgasm that will for sure annihilate me. I come a second later, my cries echoing off the bathroom walls, hoping distantly that no one else can hear me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Just this.
Withdrawing his fingers, he rises to his feet as I sag, boneless, against the wall. “Not bad for a first kiss ,” he teases. Tipping my face to his, he licks into my mouth, giving me the taste of myself. It’s breathtakingly intimate, and intense, and it’s recalibrating everything I thought I knew of the mischievous boy with the sparkling green eyes.
His dick pulses against my belly as we kiss, and I reach down to touch it, pushing him back so that I can wrap my hand around it. He smiles, biting my lip, and I smile back, tugging him a little harder. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he warns, thrusting into my grip. But he plants his hands on the tiles a breath later, giving in. “That feels …” Groaning quietly, he lowers his face to my neck. “Don’t stop,” he whispers. “Don’t fucking stop.”
It’s the sexiest encounter I’ve ever had, kissing Tristan as he fucks my hand. It’s hot and needy, and when he comes all over my belly, the water beating down on us, I wish he was coming inside me.
Tristan disappears after our shower. Something on his phone pulls him away, and I’m too tired—and, admittedly, satiated—to mind. Dimming the lights, I sink into bed, luxuriating in the feel of my clean skin on the clean sheets. Even if they are too small. I doze off wondering if we’ll still keep separate bedrooms after tonight.
Sometime later, I’m awoken by insistent hands pulling the blanket away and a wet, naughty mouth anointing my neck with kisses. Tristan slips into bed with me, curving his body around mine. “No more sleep,” he demands roughly, sucking lazily at the side of my neck as his hand finds my breast and squeezes. “Time to consummate this marriage.”
Pressing my face into the pillow, I giggle sleepily at his ridiculousness. But he’s relentless, and I want him just as much despite my sleep fog, so I acquiesce. Arching into him, I reach back and sink my fingers into his hair. “Where’d you go earlier?” I whisper, pushing my butt into his erection. “Wait, are you naked?”
“The real question is, why aren’t you naked?” Flipping me to my back, he brings my hand to his dick, letting me feel the smooth, hard shape of him again before shifting onto his knees. He peels off my shirt, eyes glinting in approval as he looks down at me. “What’s this?” He runs his hands over my bare skin, making me shiver. “No panties?”
“Not when I’m sleeping.”
“Not ever?” I shake my head, and a devilish grin lights up his face as he stretches out over me. “My kind of girl.”
Our lips meet, and I wrap myself around him, bringing him closer. I love him already, would do anything for him already. Daddy’s words, and even Maribelle’s, echo cruelly through my mind, reminding me that Tristan has ulterior motives and that at the end of the day, he’s all about himself. His family. But that’s not how this feels. Tristan might be ruthless at times but he’s also fiercely loyal, even to me. He’s proven that over and over. I kiss him as deeply as he kisses me, giving him all those years of longing.
So deeply that our bodies, intertwined in every way but one, act on their own. I don’t stop him when he starts to enter me, filling me in a way that far transcends the physical. “Evie,” he groans. There’s a slight sting, because it’s a tight fit, but it mellows into bone-melting pleasure as he fully seats himself. “Fuck. Hold on, baby.”
Pulling out, he leans over and grabs a condom from somewhere on the floor, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrates on getting it on. Then he sits, bringing me onto his lap. “You okay?” he asks quietly, his eyes just inches away.
I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“You trust me?”
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” I ask, not really wanting to hear if there is.
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’ll always be good to you.”
“Always?” I tug the hair at the nape of his neck. “You mean for the next year. We have an expiration date, remember?”
“I’ll be good to you no matter what.” He pulls me in until I’m so close all it’ll take is a slight shift. “Starting right now.” Squeezing my hips, he lifts me just enough so that I can bring him inside.
It’s deeper at this angle, and I sink down slowly, feeling every inch as he fills me again. “Oh,” I whisper, closing my eyes. Nothing feels better than this.
He trails his tongue over my throat as he starts to move, biting down on the juncture between my neck and my shoulder.
“You bite … a lot.” I gasp. “I like it …” I moan as his tongue lashes my pulse point. “A lot.”
“Can’t resist. You’re too sweet.” Chuckling darkly, he cups my ass, working me up and down, back and forth. I roll my hips, moving with him, meeting every stroke with one of my own. “I want to bite you everywhere.”
I laugh breathlessly, because I’d like that, too. We fuck for what feels like forever, until my thighs ache and our skin is damp with sweat. Tristan rises, putting me onto my back, and picks up the pace, driving into me so hard that the bed squeaks in protest. I lie spread beneath him, widening my knees as the first twinge of another climax ripples through my core.
“Maybe you should be mine for real, Evie,” he pants against my ear, his warm breath sending a shudder through me .
He’s so clueless. I’ve never wanted to belong to anyone as much as I do him. “I already am,” I say, and everything crescendos into a brilliant burst.
“Something’s going on with Maeve.” Tristan’s eyes track my hand as I choose a piece of mint chocolate fudge from the box between us on the bed. It’s so late it’s early, but I guess neither of us felt like sleeping after that spectacular hook-up. If you could even call it that. “She left all these cryptic texts earlier.”
I take a bite and feed him the rest, having mercy on him. “Is that why you ran off after our shower?”
“I went to get my bag because the condoms were in it.” He flashes a dimple. “And I wanted to hide the fudge before Timmy’s munchies kicked in.”
Snorting, I lie back on the bed. “If you think something’s going on with Maeve, why don’t you just call her?”
“I did. It went to voicemail, but then she texted back and said she was on her way to the airport and that she’d call me when she landed,” he explains. “So, I called Lucky. He said Maeve was flying out to California to stay with her douchebag boyfriend a while, which is really fucking crazy.”
“Because he’s a douchebag?”
“Yes, but also because she’s a classical dancer, and ballet is her life.” He shakes his head, grimly eating more fudge. “I don’t get why she’d leave someplace as prestigious as the Boston Ballet when she worked so hard to get there.”
“The Boston Ballet ?” I gape at him, remembering a younger Maeve, always twirling around. Guess she really did follow her dreams. “That’s incredible.”
“I know.” He nods. “But this kid’s had a hold on her since we were at boarding school.”
“Why don’t you like him?”
Tristan shakes his head, eyes far away. “He’s a selfish little shit. Comes from money, thinks he’s amazing—but all he cares about is himself. Even Maeve—it’s like he cares about her because of what she is to him. Not because of who she is. You know?”
Yuck. “Sounds like Cole.”
“Now that you mention it, yeah.” Tristan frowns. “Same kind of energy.”
My stomach twists, and I push away the fudge. “He’s never … done anything to her, right?”
His eyes go flat. “He wouldn’t be walking this earth if he had.”
There’s a soft knock at the bedroom door. I shrink beneath the comforter, pulling it up to my chin, but Tristan rises and goes to the door in his boxers. Opening the door a crack, he looks out, whispering with whoever it is for a minute before coming back to bed, troubled.
Right away, a painful stone lodges in my stomach. Even when I forget for a minute, our circumstances always come back like a cough that just won’t quit. “What’s wrong?”
Striding over to the nightstand, Tristan snatches up his phone and taps at it. “Shit. It’s dead.” He looks around, eyes landing on the charger on my side of the bed. “Can I use that?”
“Go ahead,” I murmur, watching as he impatiently unplugs my phone and jams his in. “Did something happen?”
“When isn’t something happening?” he asks dryly, running hands through his hair over and over as he waits for his phone to come to life. When it does, he sits beside me, navigating to one of his apps and showing me the screen. It’s that surveillance video app, the same one he had me install on my phone today. I look closely at the black and white footage, unsure of what I’m seeing. “That’s not here, is it?”
“It’s the rental on Tybee,” he says.
I see it now—this camera must be mounted on the back deck, because it’s pointing toward the wooded area behind the house. “Why?—”
“Look,” he says, pointing.
My heart slams into my chest as two figures emerge from the woods, moving slowly through the darkness. They move out of the frame after a moment. “Oh, my God,” I whisper, a cold prickle of fear creeping over my skin. This is just like high school, when that asshole wouldn’t leave me alone. “It’s Cole. ”
Tristan’s head whips around, and he looks at me shrewdly. “You know for sure?”
“Who else would it be?” I swallow hard, trying to steady the wobble in my voice. “This the kind of thing he would do. The kind of thing he does .” Tristan searches my eyes until I look away. “Isn’t that why you still have surveillance on that house? Even though y’all left?”
He nods, watching the video again. “This isn’t the first time, you know.”
A sick feeling rolls through my stomach. “He’s been there before?”
“Not the rental.” He shakes his head. “I was still at the Airbnb in town when my phone went off one night. There’s always a feed running, but it only notifies me when motion is detected. I didn’t hear the notification tonight because my phone was dead.” A smirk makes its way onto his face, and he tugs at the blanket covering me. “Wonder why I forgot to charge it?”
I hold fast to the blanket, appreciating his attempt to lighten the moment. “Hey, don’t blame me.”
“I’m definitely blaming you,” he teases, one hand crawling toward me beneath the blanket.
“Tristan,” I laugh, tapping his phone. “Tell me what happened at your Airbnb.”
Withdrawing his hand, he sighs. “Some guys were lurking around the alley between my place and the house next door. They didn’t really do anything, but that shit didn’t sit right with me. I went downstairs when they moved off camera and saw them get into a truck and leave.” He looks at me. “This was right after that fight.”
Uneasiness infiltrates the contentment of my afterglow. “Is that why you moved to the house on Tybee?”
“Partly. I had a feeling it was Cole, that he might show up again.” He frowns, watching the video again. “And he did. It took him a minute, but he found me. Again.”
“I guess I’m not surprised.” I’ve always known Cole was capable of this. I’d just hoped he’d outgrown the creep factor. “He’s got eyes everywhere.”
“I figured.” Tristan nods slowly. He looks like he wants to say more, maybe ask me something, but he never does.