Tristan #2
All I can think about is the feel of Chloe’s lips on mine, my hand on her thigh, the needy sounds she made.
For some reason, even though we’re literally going to be married in two days, our encounter in my office the other day feels like…
a secret, somehow. We’re the only two people in the world who know what transpired behind those doors.
The thought makes me bite my lip as memories course through my mind.
Beckett seems to notice the look in my eye. He nudges me, grinning, then gestures up to the girls on the stage. “Ladies, if you wouldn’t mind, I think my brother needs a little attention.”
“Beck, no,” I protest quickly. He must’ve thought I was looking at the dancers, not thinking about Chloe.
Ignoring my protests, he sets a stack of fifties on the table beside me. He rises to his feet and confidently strides toward the stage. The dancers, skilled in the art of seduction, shift their attention to him.
“He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” Beckett tells them, to hearty guffaws from the rest of my brothers. “He’s a big-time CEO, did you girls know that?”
The dancers murmur and shake their heads, eyeing me curiously.
He winks at one of them, a tall, slim woman with cascading auburn curls. “I think he could use a lap dance, you know? Something to take the edge off.”
She smiles, her gaze fixed on me, and says in a low voice, “Oh, I think I can handle that.”
“Seriously. Beck.”
“It’s your bachelor party, Tristan. Lighten up.”
The dancer approaches me with a confident smile, like she’s just won the lottery. She steps down from the stage, but before she can come near me, I hold up a hand to stop her.
“Sorry, I appreciate the offer,” I say in a cool voice before I can consciously think about it. “But I’m here to enjoy a drink with my brothers, not for… entertainment.”
Beckett raises an eyebrow, a teasing grin playing on his lips. “Come on, Tristan, live a little. It’s your last night of freedom!”
“You’re not married yet,” Dominic points out. “What’s the harm?”
The auburn-haired dancer presses closer, her lips parted sensually. Before she can touch me, I catch her wrist, holding her at an arm’s length so that she can’t make contact.
“No,” I say—mostly to her, but also to my brothers. “I know I’m not married yet, but I promised Chloe I would be faithful, and I intend to keep that promise.”
There’s a murmur among my brothers, and Gabriel gives me a subtle nod of respect.
The dancer shrugs and backs away, clearly not that bothered by the rejection.
I can feel Beckett and Dominic side-eyeing me, curious expressions on their faces.
It’s been a while since the five of us hung out, but there was definitely a time in my life when I wouldn’t have said no to a dance, and I’m sure they know that.
But no one comments further on it, and I don’t say anything about what happened between me and Chloe the other day or how something seems to have shifted between us. Hell, I don’t even know what it is or what it means, so I have no idea how I’d explain it to my brothers.
All I know is that my entire being had a visceral negative reaction to the idea of any other woman touching me.
As the night progresses, the atmosphere in the private room mellows.
The pulsating beats of the music are replaced by the comforting hum of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses.
It’s a rare moment of companionship between us, something that hasn’t happened in what feels like a very long time.
Beckett grins mischievously, leaning back in his chair. “You know what I just thought of?”
“What?” I ask.
“You remember that time at Mom’s holiday party? With the tree?”
The memory flashes in my mind, and I can’t help but chuckle.
Every year, my parents would throw a huge holiday party in the family’s manor house, and my mother would spend hours directing the lavish decoration of a two-story pine in the center of the foyer.
The Christmas tree was her yearly magnum opus, and she treated it with all the care of a priceless masterpiece.
“How could I forget? That was a close call.”
“I swear, that thing almost crushed me,” Beckett reminisces fondly. “Man, I must’ve been… what, fourteen? Fifteen?”
“How did that even happen?” I muse, shaking my head. “One moment, we were pretending to be civilized adults, and the next, we were like a bunch of rowdy kids playing tag.”
“Don’t pin this on all of us,” Dominic cuts in. “As I recall, Beckett was the main instigator.”
“Oh, please. You’re just saying that because I was always the easy target.” Beckett sips his drink.
“No, he’s saying that because it was true,” Reid says. “You were being a little shit—”
Gabriel clears his throat, a glimmer of amusement in his eye. “Blaming each other won’t change the fact that we were all involved. And don’t forget, Tristan was the one who bumped into the table first.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me? You were the one who stepped on my foot.”
Gabriel doesn’t deny it, just shrugs. “At least Mom never figured out who did it. I think we broke three of those ornaments, right?”
Beckett chuckles. “And then we just left the room and pretended we didn’t see it.”
“I think Dad knew,” Reid muses, a faraway look on his face. “I caught his eye at one point later, and I could’ve sworn he saw right through me.”
“Probably did,” I mutter, lifting my drink. “That’s classic Dad.”
Reid nudges Gabriel with his elbow. “Watch out, Gabe. Peyton might follow in our footsteps one day.”
Gabriel snorts. “No fucking way. She doesn’t have four brothers egging her on.”
“Hey, Gabe,” I start, my tone casual. “How’s Peyton doing?”
Gabriel’s expression shifts, a hint of pensiveness crossing his features. “She’s good,” he replies, although there’s a weight to his words. He opens his mouth as if to say something more, then hesitates.
Dominic, ever direct, doesn’t miss a beat. “Well, that’s not the whole story. What’s up?”