“But . . .”
Fuck.
“ . . . CJ is right. You do look like hell.”
“Good thing I’m not trying to impress anyone,” I grunt, finally looking up. “Look, I’m doing the best I can. I’m sorry if it’s not up to your standards, but every project is on schedule, isn’t it?”
“You don’t have to answer to me anymore, remember? You’re the boss now. When I sold you this company I had no doubts you could handle it. Sure you’ve always been a pain in my ass, but you’re smart. Why you don’t let anyone see that is beyond me, but judging from the books, you are more than capable of running things around here.” He narrows his eyes at me, looking concerned. “But I also know what it’s like to have this job consume you if you let it, and I don’t want to see that happen to you.”
I think about how working here is the only thing I’ve ever been proud of—or good at—and how all it took was one afternoon with Hazel to turn it to shit. She tends to have that effect on my life.
“Trust me, this job isn’t the problem.”
“Well then I doubt you’re going to find the solution here, either. Why don’t you go home and get some rest. Take the time to deal with whatever it is you need to. I don’t want to see you put yourself or anyone else in danger by being too stubborn to admit it’s time to take a break.”
He claps me on the shoulder and I want to argue, but considering I’ve barely slept more than three hours a night for the past week, I really do need to get my shit under control. I need to find a way to forget what happened after the baby shower so I can move on.
In fact, I need to find a way to forget Hazel Blake altogether.
Eleven years ago
“Tell me something beautiful.”
“Something beautiful.”
She nudges me playfully in the arm. “Come on, pleeease?”
Even though I know she’s only asking something so ridiculous because she’s high, I can’t resist her begging. “Well what kind of beautiful thing do you want to hear about?”
“I don’t know. Tell me a love story.”
“Like Romeo & Juliet or some shit?”
“No, that one is too sad.”
“But that doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful. It might not end so well, but it’s still about two people who would rather die together than live apart. So yeah, that’s sad, but you can’t tell me that’s not also fucking beautiful.”
She gets quiet for a second. “I once heard this story about a man who was in an accident and lost his memory and couldn’t remember anything about his life. His wife never gave up on him, though, and he ended up falling in love with her all over again. I think that’s both sad and beautiful, too.”
“Shit, that’s even worse than Romeo & Juliet. I can’t imagine what kind of hell it must be to wake up one day and forget who you are. Or who anyone else is.”
“I bet you’d miss me if you couldn’t remember me.” She giggles.
I know she won’t remember this conversation in the morning. I answer honestly anyway. “Yeah, I would.”
We’re lying on our backs, looking up at the stars. A moment of silence passes between us before she sits up and rummages in her bag. “Take off your shirt,” she commands.
“Looking to take advantage of me?” I lift my eyebrows, but pull my shirt over my head.
“Now lie back.”
I do as she asks. “A guy could get used to this.” I place my arms behind my head and close my eyes.
She laughs and gets closer. Instead of her climbing on top of me, I feel a soft, scratching sensation on my chest.
I look down and see her scribbling something with a black permanent marker.
I try to lift my head to make out what she’s doing but she shields it from my view with her free hand. “No peeking.”
She bites her lip and seems to be concentrating really hard. Maybe I should be concerned about what she’s doing, but all I can think about is how sexy she looks while doing it.
When she’s finished she sits back on her knees and studies her work. “Perfect.”
I crane my neck and look down at my bare skin. It takes me a second before I make out what it says.
Hazel was here.
She puts her hand over my heart, tracing the lines she just made.
“There. Now even if you lose your memory, you won’t ever be able to forget me.”
I jolt out of bed, not sure if I should be grateful or irritated. It’s bad enough every waking thought has been consumed by Hazel, but when I finally get to sleep I have to dream about our past together, too?
I look at the clock: 1:47 a.m. Awesome.
I head to the bathroom and lift up my shirt to make sure there are no black marks there. You know, just in case.
I shake my head and splash some water on my face. As I pat my skin dry with a towel I notice my reflection. Damn, I really do look like shit. Barely sleeping, showering, or shaving for over a week will do that to a guy. The last time I looked like this . . . well, I guess that would be about five years ago. Damn. Who the fuck am I?
My high-school self was right—losing yourself is the worst kind of hell.
I stare at myself in the mirror. Maybe this is who I once was, but it sure as hell isn’t who I am now. There is no way Tristan Sharp is going to lose himself over some chick. I made that mistake once before, letting Hazel Blake consume every part of me until she left me empty and lifeless. It took me a long time to learn not to give a fuck about feelings when it comes to women and I’m sure as shit not going to stop now.
So maybe I’m still attracted to Hazel. So what? That just shows I’m a normal guy reacting to a hot girl. There doesn’t have to be any sort of deeper meaning than that. It’d actually be weirder if I didn’t want to bone her. Sex is just sex.
And OK, there are about a million other reasons why I shouldn’t go there, the fact that her brother would rip my balls off and beat me with them being pretty high on that list. Ryan already hates me in any way that involves his sister, so it’s probably not in my best interest to fuel that fire.
But then again, I’ve always liked to live dangerously.
If I’ve learned one thing after being with the number of women I’ve hooked up with, it’s that sex is all about power, so if I let Hazel get in my head and mess with my ability to fuck, then she wins. And there is no way I am going to let that happen. As long as I stay in control I can prove once and for all that all I need to put this shit to bed is to get Hazel into one. That’s all I need to get her out of my system for good.
I tear off my clothes and jump in the shower, washing away all the dirt, sweat, and memories of the past week and a half. I shave and throw on a pair of clean jeans and a fresh black T-shirt. I grab my keys from the kitchen counter, hop in my truck, and head across town. Suddenly, I think I’m in the mood for pie.
Hey, if I can’t forget Hazel Blake, I might as well fuck her.
Tristan
I park on the deserted, dimly lit street in front of the Crown Diner. It’s one of those classic 24-hour joints with chrome fixtures, a black-and-white checkered floor, and a too-bright neon sign that flickers sporadically. Outside the club across the street, a few drunken guys stumble around. The thought of Hazel working here still bothers the shit out of me, but I don’t read too much into it. Hell, I’m freaked out to be here in the middle of the night myself. I don’t like the idea of any girl having to work here.
As soon as I walk up to the glass door I recognize the waitress behind the register. She’s leaning over the narrow back counter, refilling salt and pepper shakers, and even though her back is to me I can tell it’s Hazel.
My gut instinct is to turn right back around and get the fuck out of Dodge, but I know I have to get her out of my system if I have any chance of putting her behind me, so I instead force myself to focus on how great her ass looks in a pair of black yoga pants. Yeah, I’m a real martyr, I know.
I pull open the door and as soon as I’m inside Hazel
calls out, “Feel free to sit anywhere you’d like.” Without looking up she raises her left hand to motion around the empty restaurant, still pouring salt into one of the glass shakers with her right. “Do you need a menu or do you know what you’re in the mood for?”
“I happen to know exactly what I’m in the mood for.”
Hazel whips around, knocking over one of the salt shakers. “Tristan? Oh my God, what the hell are you doing here?”
Her hand moves over her chest. She looks shocked to see me. And maybe a little thrilled?
“I was in the neighborhood.” I shrug coolly.
She gives me a doubtful look, regaining her composure. “At three in the morning?”
“Is that what time it is?” I slide onto one of the bar stools at the counter and pick up a menu, pretending to look it over without a care in the world.
I can feel Hazel studying me. “I thought you said you knew what you wanted?” she asks in a playful tone.
I flash her a knowing smile. “It’s always good to keep your options open.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s amused. “What are you really doing here?” She rests her hands on the counter in front of me. I catch a whiff of that same damn citrusy smell and have to remember to keep my cool.
Even though we’re the only two around, I lean in closer so only she can hear. “Maybe I decided we should finish what we started in my truck last week.”
Without missing a beat, she tries to call me out. “So you’re here for a booty call? What, your giggly friend from the other week isn’t available?”
Damn, that’s the Hazel I remember: feisty as hell. I lean back, talking at a normal volume again. “I think we can both agree there’s some unfinished business between us. Can you really say you don’t miss me?”
Hazel smirks, but before she can answer the diner door opens and a tall, middle-aged woman with curly black hair comes rushing in. “Hey girly. Can’t believe I made it here in time. I stayed up way too late watching The Bachelor reruns and almost missed my alarm.” The woman heads behind the counter and begins tying on an apron. “I thought for sure I’d be late and Chet would dock my pay again.”
“I think you’re good, Nan. It’s been dead here so he’s been in the office all night watching something on the television back there.” Hazel moves away from me, takes an order pad from her apron and places it under the register.
“I’m sure I can guess what he’s watching.” The woman shudders. “Gross.”
Hazel laughs and checks the big clock on the back wall. “Good luck with him. I should get going so I don’t miss the bus, though.”
I interrupt as Hazel unties her own apron. “I can give you a ride.”
Both women look at me before Hazel raises a quizzical eyebrow. “You haven’t even ordered yet.”
“Turns out I’m craving something other than diner food.” I smile suggestively.
The woman puts a protective hand on Hazel’s shoulder while giving me a dirty look, but before she can say anything Hazel clarifies, “Don’t worry, he’s an old friend. Nan, this is Tristan, Tristan, this is my coworker, Nancy, but everyone calls her Nan.”
Nan puts her hand to her chest and lets out a sigh of relief. “Good thing. I was about to kick his perverted behind right out the door.” She turns her attention to me, giving me a skeptical once-over. “I don’t care how good looking you are, sugar, nobody messes with my girl here.”
“And what about you? I’m sure you have to beat guys off with a stick, don’t you?” I flash Nan my most charming grin.
She shoos the thought away as if I’m crazy, but by the way she blushes I can tell it’s helping to win her over. It’s true she’s not exactly MILF status, but every woman appreciates a little flirting. And if there is one thing that helps to make me feel like my usual, unaffected self, it’s definitely some shameless flirtation.
I stand up and notice Hazel seems unsure. She looks at me, then at the door, then back at me before asking, “Are you sure you don’t mind? I still have time to catch the bus.”
Am I sure? Fuck no. “I offered, didn’t I?” Realizing that sounded harsher than I intended, I follow up with a wicked smile. “If it makes you feel better you can owe me.”
“Mmm, honey if you don’t take him up on his offer, I might,” Nan cuts in and winks at me.
“Well look who no longer thinks I’m a pervert. Better hurry, Hazel, or you two will have to fight over me.”
Hazel laughs. “Just let me grab my stuff.” She disappears into the back for a few seconds before returning with a sweatshirt folded over her arm and a bag slung over her shoulder. “Ready?” she asks, nodding toward the door.
Isn’t that a good fucking question.
Hazel
“Ready?” I ask, not sure exactly what I’m referring to: leaving the diner or seeing what’s going to happen once we do.
Tristan nods, holding the door open. He leads me to his truck parked just outside.
To say I was surprised to see him at this hour in the first place would be a major understatement, but to have him basically proposition me for sex has me feeling all kinds of confused. When I saw him last he seemed quiet and distant, like we were practically strangers, but now it’s like we’re back to being friends. On the one hand I feel like something is up and I should ask him what’s going on, but on the other I can’t help but be grateful for anything he’s willing to give me as long as it means I get to spend time with him. And yes, I’m aware just how sad and desperate that makes me, but that doesn’t stop me, either. If there is any chance I might have another shot with Tristan Sharp, I’ll do whatever he wants.
As I approach the truck Tristan gets close, brushing past me to open my door. It’s still dark and the early morning air has a chill, but I don’t think that’s why goose bumps suddenly flush my entire body. I climb into the passenger seat and wait anxiously for him to move around to the driver’s side. He gets in, secures his seatbelt, and pulls onto the road.
“Thank you for taking me home,” I say, needing to break the silence.
“Sure that’s where you want me to take you?”
I angle myself as best I can with the restraint of the seatbelt to face him. As much as I want this to be like old times, I need to know where his head is really at. “What was with all that stuff you said at the diner? Were you just messing with me?”
His eyes flick over to me before focusing back on the road. “Do you really think I came all the way out here at this hour to mess with you?”
I think about it for a second. “I don’t know, Tristan. I don’t know anything about you anymore.”
“There isn’t much to know.”
We’re both quiet for a moment before he sighs and adds, “Sure, we’ve been through some shit together. That’s life, though. I have no interest in bringing any of that up, but spending time together made me remember there was at least one area of our relationship we were good at.” He raises his eyebrows with a knowing smirk. “Come on, haven’t you wondered what it would be like to get me in the sack again after all this time?”
I could try denying it, but really, what would be the point? “And if I have?” I suck in a breath.
His voice is low, yet light. “Then what would you say to satisfying both of our curiosities?”
Without giving myself a chance to think I command, “I’d say pull the truck over.”
Tristan looks at me with a mixture of surprise and lust and stops the truck a few feet off the side of the road. We’re on a dark, secluded street and, considering the time, I doubt many cars will come through this way. But still, the thrill of possibly getting caught mixes with the thrill of what I think is about to happen and makes my heart drum inside my chest, the vibration shooting down between my legs, leaving me wanting and wet.
Tristan leans over the center console, getting so close that I can smell his clean and earthy scent. I still remember when he would come to see me after working all day at his construction job, dirty
and smelling of sweat and soil. It’s a scent that is so distinctly Tristan that I can’t help but be consumed by it.
His lips ghost over mine. “This is just sex, Hazel, for old time’s sake. Nothing more. You can handle that, right?”
His brown eyes blaze into my green ones and I swear he can read every single thought racing through my mind. I’m not sure I can handle anything when it comes to Tristan Sharp these days, but I do know I don’t want to have to think about it right now. My desire overtakes all judgment and I feel myself nod. Tristan whispers, “Good,” right before his tongue slides down my neck.
Suddenly it’s like we’re back in high school. No words are needed as our bodies fall into a familiar rhythm, except what I remember as slow and unhurried now becomes fast and frantic. Within seconds the driver’s seat is pushed back and I’m straddling Tristan, as everything else becomes a blur.
Fingers tugging through hair.
Teeth scraping against skin.
Hands ripping off clothes.
Warm breath.
Soft moans.
He grips my hips and I grind against him, desperately craving a release. I feel him beneath me and his hardness is the perfect contrast to my wetness. Leaving our shirts on, we both readjust to slide my pants all the way off. Tristan pulls his down just enough to free his rock-solid cock before reaching in the console to tear open a foil packet. I don’t have time to think about how many vehicular hookups he must have in order to warrant a car condom stash, because in one swift motion he’s sheathed and pushing into me as his fingers dig roughly into my skin. I welcome the mix of pleasure and pain.
They say you always hurt the ones you love, and we’ve definitely had our fair share of both. Right now the awareness of the past is colliding with the uncertainty of the present and I can’t tell if it’s going to hurt or heal us.
My body feels like it’s on fire as we move faster. With each thrust I feel another piece of me getting caught up in the storm that is Tristan Sharp. He brands me with each rough touch, his hands scouring every part of my body. His mouth finds my ear and he is hard and commanding as he grunts, “Can you feel me, Hazel? I want you to feel me everywhere.”
Sick Pleasure (Crazy Beautiful Book 3) Page 5
