32. Tristan
32
TRISTAN
L ights explode through me as her lips crash against mine. Every logical thought empties out of my head, and I slide both hands through her hair and kiss her back so possessively that she gasps into my mouth.
She locks her hands behind my neck, holding me tighter to her as her tongue brushes against mine. I slide one hand down her side. A moan escapes her as I caress her curves and slip my fingers underneath her shirt. She whimpers and a shudder ripples through her as I trace my fingers up her bare stomach.
The sound of that whimper, and the feeling of her warm body underneath my hand, makes my cock ache with need. Fuck. I want to rip her clothes off and fuck her until she’s moaning my name and begging me for more.
My fingers trail along the top of her tiny shorts, caressing her sensitive skin.
Another shiver of pleasure rolls down her spine, and she tightens her grip around the back of my neck while she kisses me like she’s starving .
I slip my hand down between her thighs and brush my knuckles against her clit through the fabric of her tight pants.
She trembles and whimpers against my lips again.
My cock is painfully hard.
I fucking love how she reacts when I touch her. How her body trembles with pleasure. How I can draw these incredible sounds from her. It’s absolutely intoxicating.
Sliding my hands down to her hips, I grip them firmly while I kiss her hard and possessively. She answers by drawing her own hands down my chest and then tracing them over my abs. Pleasure pulses through me.
It’s so intense that I can barely see straight. I need her. I need her naked underneath me. I need?—
Reality snaps into me, and I jerk back, breaking the kiss.
Fucking hell, we’re outside. In public. Right around the corner from my gym which is full of other men. No matter how badly I want her, I’m not going to fuck her here.
Elle blinks in confusion, looking both dazed and disoriented from the abrupt end to the kiss. Then her gaze darts from left to right, taking in the alley around us, and heat sears her cheeks as she too realizes where we are.
I wait for her to straighten her clothes and fix her hair so that it’s all perfect again. But to my surprise, she doesn’t.
Strange emotions swirl inside me as I watch her.
My chest heaves, and pent-up need still pulses through my veins. I know that I should take a step back and put some distance between us. But I just can’t make myself do it.
Elle draws in a breath as well, and then raises her hand to her lips.
A sharp stab spears through my heart as she stares up at me with those big brown eyes while she brushes her fingers over her lips where mine were mere seconds ago .
“Why did you protect me in there?” she asks.
The question jolts me out of my stupor, but I still have to scramble for a reply.
Why did I protect her? Because the thought of someone hurting her made me want to paint the walls with blood. Because the thought of someone else putting his hands on her made me want to hear bones break.
“Because you’re mine.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
Elle’s mouth drops open, and her hand falls back down to her side, as she stares at me with wide eyes.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. That didn’t come out right.
“Because you’re mine to torment,” I quickly amend it to. “Mine to threaten. No one else’s.”
Her face takes on an expression that I can’t quite read. Tilting her head to the side, she holds my gaze with soft eyes. “I meant what I said earlier. I really am sorry. I’m sorry that I was a stupid rich girl who didn’t understand that my words had devastating consequences.”
My chest constricts as another sharp jab of pain pulses through me.
Because I can tell that she means it. She truly means every word.
I can’t get my tongue to work, so I only manage a nod in reply.
A small smile blows across her face briefly.
Indecision flashes through me.
Maybe this is enough. Maybe she has suffered enough now. She has paid for what she did. Not in the way I expected but still in several different ways. And she has apologized. Maybe my vendetta is finished now .
“You’ve gotten me arrested once,” I begin. “And I’ve gotten you arrested three times. Plus a kidnapping. I think it might be time to offer a truce.”
She jerks back a little in surprise. Blinking, she stares up at me. “You’re offering me a truce?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My mind circles through the memories of what she looked like in her dorm room when her father told her that she was a disappointing failure who would be disowned unless she restored her perfect image. Emotions twist inside me like snakes.
“Because if I say that I know what it’s like to live underneath a mountain of pressure and to hide behind masks, you also know exactly what I’m talking about,” I reply at last. My gaze remains locked firmly on hers. “Don’t you?”
Another pulse of shock crackles across her features, and her mouth drops open. She doesn’t know that I overheard her conversation with her dad the other day, so she has no idea that I know that she grew up feeling almost the exact same thing as me.
That stunned expression remains on her face as she at last presses out, “Yes.”
I nod. “I figured as much.”
“But… how did you?—”
“Do you want the truce or not?” I interrupt, because my heart has started to act strangely and I need to get the hell out of here.
She flinches at my hard tone, but then nods desperately. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Good. Then we’re done. You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. We’ll both just continue on with our lives as if we had never had the misfortune of knowing each other in the first place.”
It must be my imagination, but I could’ve sworn that she almost looked a little disappointed for a second. But then she just lowers her gaze and nods.
An overwhelming urge to place my fingers under her chin and tilt her head back up flashes through me with such intensity that my hand is already halfway there before I realize what I’m doing.
Yanking my hand back down, I spin on my heel and simply stride away instead.
I need to leave before I do something that I will regret.
Because it doesn’t matter that Elle understands me in ways that few others do. It doesn’t matter that she understands what it’s like to always have to perform perfectly. It doesn’t matter that she understands what it’s like to constantly have to hide parts of yourself underneath masks suited for a specific audience. Doesn’t matter that she understands exactly what it’s like to feel trapped. What it’s like to not even have control over your own life. And it certainly doesn’t matter that I feel drawn to her like a moth to a flame. That my body craves her. That my soul craves her.
Because she is still the reason that I’m trapped in crippling debt to Rob Bracken, which will impact my future for years, if not decades, to come.
And I’m not sure if I will ever be able to completely get over that.