The plane ride had been filled with a gay flight attendant flirting with Tristan, who took it with more grace than any other man ever could, and then the lady next to him accidentally spilled her cup of water into his lap. When the old hag leaned over to try and wipe at his crotch with her napkin, I smacked her hand away and made him do it himself. Shit. If I hadn't touched it yet, then I sure as hell wasn't about to let some stranger touch the promised land.
Tristan yanked the handle of my suitcase out of my hand and smiled sheepishly while walking quickly through the moving doors of the hotel. "Walk faster, I need to pee," he called out from his place two steps ahead.
He walked toward the front desk, dropped his duffel onto the floor, and settled my rolling suitcase against his thigh while pulling out his wallet to talk to the employee. I stood just a few feet behind him, looking around while he checked us in, taking in the seats and couches in the lobby. Tristan hadn't told me hardly anything about where we were staying, or what we exactly we were doing, and I didn't bother asking because he could have said we were staying at some hole in the wall motel with Big Lou working the front desk, vibrating beds, and tube televisions on the dresser for all I cared and I would have been fine.
"Ready to go up?" his husky voice whispered into my ear, so close to the skin I could feel the moisture from his hot mouth on me even after he pulled away.
I only managed to nod in agreement before I was walking right next to him on our way to the elevators. He had two keycards in his hand with the duffel pulled over a shoulder like a purse and his other hand was wrapped around my suitcase handle. "Do we have two different rooms?" I asked him, before I even realized that the words were on my lips. I had thought we were sharing a room.
Green eyes bore into mine while we waited for the doors to open up. "No, we're sharing one," he said, and a thick shiver of pleasure ran through my body. My whole being noticed that he didn't ask me if it was okay that we were sharing one, or even made excuses as to why we weren't in two different rooms. He was just telling me and I fucking loved it.
I was sure my face turned a shade of pink only found in nature on roses, but I could care less; my smile probably rivaled that of a person in a mental institution. "Okay."
The smile on his face that he gave me in return wasn't remotely friendly, I could tell by the look in his eyes and it made my armpits start to sweat. The elevator doors opened up that instant, breaking me out of the trance I was in as a result of that indecipherable smile. Moments later, he swiped the keycard and pushed the door open to reveal a spacious room with a king-sized bed set against the opposite wall with a big screen television facing it. The hotel was much nicer than any of the budget hotels I'd been used to staying at in the past, so I was happy.
"I'm going to jump in the shower," he said, dropping his bag onto the floor by the television and heading to the door across from the bed, which I could only assume to be the bathroom.
The door shut but didn't lock, and I opened up my suitcase to pull out my pajamas so I could shower once he was done. My skin had this super gross feeling from the airplane. I'd always believed that the recycled air in planes left residue on my skin, but I tended to imagine things sometimes, so I tried not to think too much of it. I realized seconds later that there was a problem— my pajamas were missing. The rest of my clothes were neatly packed away courtesy of Nicole, but the shorts, tank top, and sports bra I had set aside were gone. I don't know why I looked through my suitcase again, like the items would magically appear if I pulled everything out the second time but nothing was in there.
My phone was out and pressed against my ear faster than I could physically say, "Nicole," in my worst impression of a growl.
Two rings later, the sultry voice I recognized belonging to my favorite blonde was on the other line. "Hey asshole, what's up?"
"Did you forget to pack something in my bag?" I whispered into the phone.
The bitch laughed in response. "Oh, I didn't forget. Trust me, babe."
I groaned into the phone, looking through my suitcase once more. "Damn it, Nikki. Fine, I'll call you later."
A throaty chuckle answered me before she said, "Love you, Kat. Have fun."
I powered off my phone before I heard the dial tone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. There weren't any tank tops or sports bras in my bag. This was a disaster. I couldn't sleep with a normal bra on or anything with tight sleeves. Call me claustrophobic or whatever you will, but it was one of the few things I was picky about. Everything in my suitcase was too dressy to sleep in, so I was going to have to resort to asking Tristan to borrow one of his shirts and letting the girls hang out overnight.
"Were you on the phone?" Tristan's voice rasped from the doorway to bathroom.
I looked up and immediately wished that I hadn't.
I sucked in a breath so deep I was surprised there was any oxygen left in the room.
He stood leaning against the doorframe with a towel wrapped around his slim hips and nothing else… unless you counted the hundreds of water droplets that were coating the surface of his perfect, borderline pale body. How the hell was he so ripped? Why didn't he have the courtesy to dry off? Damn. I couldn't remember ever hearing him mention going to exercise at all, and there was no way that body was that good out of the result of just good genes. If it was, the world and higher beings were totally unfair. My eyes focused in on the deep V-shape of muscle that started high on his hips before disappearing underneath the wrap of white around him.
"Do you work out?" I spit out stupidly.
He laughed deep from within his chest, causing his abs to contract in a way that made them look impossibly better. "Everyday before work," he huffed out, grinning.
I nodded, because I didn't trust myself to respond with appropriate words and stood up quickly remembering my shower and pajama issue. "Hey, can I borrow a shirt or something to sleep in? I guess I, uh, left my pajamas at home."
He quirked an eyebrow but nodded. "Sure," he turned and dropped to his haunches to look through his bag.
A pair of black boxer briefs flew onto the bed and then a soft, old white t-shirt appeared being flung in my direction. I wanted to say something about the fact that he'd chosen a white shirt out of all the colored ones he'd brought with him, but I didn't and just smirked. His cheeks and ears blossomed into a light pink color at my expression like he knew I caught onto his bullshit, but he turned back toward his bag immediately while I headed into the bathroom.
The water was hot and relaxing while I washed and shaved away the nasty feeling on me from the plane ride. I slipped on Tristan's shirt to see that it was loose and long enough to barely cover my ass cheeks. Sure you could have seen my nipples through the material if you stared, but I'd already gotten undressed in front of him before so it wasn't a big deal. Right? After I pulled on my hot pink boyshorts, brushed out my hair and then teeth, I opened the door and walked into the room to find him sprawled underneath the covers of the bed watching the television. The room was lit only by the lamp next to him. His chest was still bare above where the comforter lay pulled up to pecs.
I smiled at him and walked toward the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers so that a good two or three feet of mattress separated the two of us. His dark head of hair lulled to the side to look at me. "Are you ready to go to bed so we can get up early?"
"Sure," I told him.
He turned off the television and reached over to turn off the lamp on the side table before the darkness engulfed the room. Only the noises we caused shifting under the covers sounded before his husky voice cleared. "Goodnight, Kat."
"Night," I mumbled out, rolling over so that I faced his side of the bed.
I closed my eyes and immediately envisioned Tristan's sopping wet body against the doorframe again while I fell asleep. It seemed that almost immediately once my eyes were closed, I was dreaming of Tristan possibly for the first time. He was leaning over me, like he had been the day before when we were talking about the reasons why he qu
it, but he was whispering dirty things into my ear and grinding against me. I kept calling his name with each dry thrust and even in my dream it felt amazing.
At some point, my mind started to wake up when the rubbing felt a little too real.
Just like at the end of my hot yoga classes, it seemed like every inch of my body slowly awakened, every nerve heightened to the heat and the cold that lapped against it. It started from the cold tips of my toes and slowly ran up my exposed calves and then thighs, which were pressed from behind by muscle, hair, and oh my god, something thick, hard, and long rubbing gently against my bottom. The blanket was kicked to the end of the bed so the cold air of the room washed over me, or technically us, I guessed, but it only caused me to revel in the warmth behind me that much more.
One of his hands was on my hip, already underneath the t-shirt and skimming the skin on my stomach. His mouth was nipping at my earlobe, alternating gentle flicks of tongue against the shell. I moaned, deep and hoarse like a wanton whore. I was still half asleep as his long fingers circled their way up my flesh until the tips brushed against my chest, causing me to buck against him, whimpering. Was it wrong to want him this badly? Despite the fact that Nikki and Josh were into casual sex, I was not. Every man I'd been with — the whopping three — had all been boyfriends and yet, I'd never wanted any of them the way I craved Tristan. He was my crack simply put.
"You kept saying my name in your sleep," he groaned into my ear. "Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"
Shamelessly, I pressed my back into his body, causing him to hiss. "I have an idea," I said, but my throat was thick and still full of sleep so it sounded raspy.
"It was the hottest fucking thing I've ever heard," he whispered before rolling me onto my back in a flash before his thighs pressed mine apart. It was so dark I couldn't see anything but the faint outline of his large frame hovering over me. Both of his hands were now on my hips, so I could only guess that he was on his knees between my legs.
"I hope this is okay," he murmured, and then gripped the edge of the shirt I had on, tugging it up so that it bunched underneath my chin.
Then I felt cold air brushing my skin before his mouth, with heat that rivaled lava, devoured me. "Holy shit," I panted and arched my back like I was trying to thrust more of myself into his mouth.
Despite the growl in his voice, his mouth was gentle but persistent as he sucked me into his mouse. His hands kneaded the skin on my ribs before I felt one hand glide down my side, leaving a trail of heat over my hip bone before cupping me through the material of my underwear. I couldn't think. I couldn't remember my fucking name when he started rubbing those fingers up and down my flesh, pressing deliciously right where I wanted him the most.
I bucked again, whimpering when he moved his mouth away to press against mine in a slant with a deep kiss. Just like his mouth on my breast, his kiss was slow and deliberate before peppering across my chin and down my throat, collarbones, and back down to the tender flesh that missed him. His fingers kept their slow rub up, down, circle, and then again. "I'm going to make you come, Kat," he said in the huskiest voice of all time.
"Please," I whined when his fingers started pushing aside the material covering me. "Please, oh please." I couldn't focus on anything but the parts of my body that were in contact with his. I couldn't think that we needed to talk. I couldn't do anything but beg.
He chuckled, sucking me a little harder into his mouth. "Tell me you're mine," he rasped against my skin.
Oh. My. Fuck.
Oh. My. Fuck.
I knew that this was totally possessive and territorial. I knew that it also wasn't the best time for us to have a talk about what could possibly define us, but fuck me. Who cared?
"Tell me, Kat. Tell me you're only mine."
I cried something that sounded like a noise a puppy made. "I'm yours… only… oh fuck," one long finger dipped between my heated flesh and I cried out again. "I'm only yours, Tristan."
He growled, sounding completely inhuman before sliding another finger in to follow the first. "I'm yours too, you know that?" he breathed against the sensitive skin on my chest and I felt my heart constrict. "I only want you," he groaned. Before I could even ingest his words, he twisted his wrist and flicked his fingers upward, brushing a spot that made me forget my name. I couldn't breath as his fingers twirled and brushed against me, making me whimper and cry out. "You're so wet."
Maybe it was his words but maybe it wasn't. When the heel of his hand started grinding against me, I cried out his name as the most delicious orgasm of my life made my toes curl and my vision literally go black. I'm not sure how long I laid there as a panting mess with my legs wide open and my underwear shoved to the side so my entire vag was out in the air, but it was the warm kisses to the side of my face that brought me back to reality. Tristan brushed his lips against my cheeks, chin, and then kissed my upper and lower lip repeatedly while I calmed down.
"That was—," I mumbled, feeling exhausted and warm again when the covers were pulled up over me. Tristan settled himself right next to me, draping a heavy arm over my bare stomach. His hips were pulled away from me just the slightest, but I couldn't forget the monster that had been pressing against my ass just minutes before. "Hey, do you want me to....?"
He chuckled, kissing my temple before he rested his head on the same pillow I had mine on. "No, I'll be okay," he said simply. His fingers brushed against my stomach, and I felt him shift just a bit to put his head on top of his folded arm. We were silent for only a minute before he cleared his throat. "Kat? I meant what I said."
I knew we needed to talk, but his words flirted through my brain. I was his and he said he was mine. It felt engraved into me already. I knew Tristan, and I was fully aware that he didn't say things just for the heck of it. "I did too."
"You'll be mine?" he asked in a voice so low I almost didn't hear it.
It shouldn't be so simple, should it? To just commit myself to someone?
I wasn't sure at all but it felt like it was with him. He bared himself to me, made his move, so didn't he deserve the same?
"That's all I want."
Chapter 49
The next day, I felt like I was living out one of those coffee commercials with the shy smiles that Tristan shot me from across the bed. As soon as I started blinking the sleep away from my eyes, I spied him in his shirtless glory holding up two cups of coffee in those amazing hands that I'd gotten well acquainted with just hours before. The smallest memory of the prior night managed to make me blush as I remembered his dry lips on the skin his shirt was now covering. Warm rays of sunshine slipped in through the cracks of the curtain over the window making it feel even more surreal. I probably looked like a hot mess with dried drool on my face and knots in my hair, but right then I could not have given less of a shit.
I was in bed with Tristan. My brain lit imaginary fireworks in celebration of the occasion.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," the rich, deep voice that had purred into my ear last night said. He handed me a cup of coffee over the bed covers, and then maneuvered his way over to rest his back against the headboard just a foot away from me. "We need to get going in an hour to make it in time."
I kicked the sheets off my legs, sat up, and smiled in his direction before sipping the coffee he'd handed me. It was just the way I liked it with four sugars and so much cream it made the normally dark color look milky. Glancing back and forth between my mug and the handsome face just to my right, my brain tried to cope and understand with what had happened just a few hours before. The sequence almost seemed dreamlike. Technically, it was something out of my dreams because it had seemed that we would never get to that point.
Plus, who gets to wake up with this type of perfection between their legs in real life?
I couldn't even get started trying to replay the fact that he didn't ask for me to be his, but rather told me. Sweet baby Jesus, I had never been one for liking possessiveness but the idea of being Tristan's
was just too fucking perfect. I would've settled for a simple, "I think we should date each other exclusively." The dreamy smile on my face must have given me away because I heard him snort. "What are you thinking?" he asked with a tinge of humor in his voice.
For a moment I debated whether or not to be coy and pretend like I wasn't thinking about where his fingers had been last night, but screw it. "Last night," I admitted with a waggle of my eyebrows.
The smile that spread across his face was the most brilliant thing I'd ever seen in my life. Solar panels be damned, Tristan's smile could provide enough electricity to support a small town. "Which part specifically?"
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