It’s wild and messy and it’s never felt more right.
I kiss him back just as hard, needing him to consume me, to fill me.
His mouth makes its way across my neck, down my breasts, branding me with every touch. He finds his way back to my lips and pulls me away from the door, his mouth never breaking contact with mine. We fall to our knees. Tristan reaches for my clothes while I reach for his. He pulls my yellow dress over my head. I pull his white shirt over his.
He kisses the spot below my throat while unclasping my bra, letting it fall away. He palms my breasts with his strong, callused hands. I surrender to him, arching into his touch, moaning and begging for him to fuck me.
Instead he stops.
He looks at me in the growing darkness, the sun barely peeking in the windows as it sets. Harsh shadows slice across his face and everything stands still. He stares at me, quietly and deliberately.
His body might be rough, but his eyes are gentle. He’s the only person to ever look at me like I actually mean something.
And for the first time I honor the silence. In fact, I welcome it.
Tristan’s left hand relaxes at my hip while his right slides behind my neck, pulling me close.
He’s still staring at me, silently saying more than any words ever could. The intensity causes me to inhale a sharp breath. The rise and fall of my chest pressed against Tristan’s makes me even more aware of how electric his bare skin feels next to mine.
He angles his face closer, but just when I think he’s going to kiss me he pulls back. He instead shifts to lay me gently on the floor. Once he makes sure I’m comfortable on my back, he oh-so-slowly trails his fingers from my neck down my sides and slides my panties down my legs. He pushes himself to standing and unbuttons his jeans, his eyes never once leaving mine. I watch as he steps out of his pants and rolls on a condom. I watch him kneel in front of me. I spread my legs to allow him to climb over me and he holds his weight on his hands. He puts his forehead against mine.
The sun has fully set and it’s just the two of us. Nothing else matters. Not where we are or who we used to be or what anyone else thinks.
“Did you mean what you said?” His voice is low and gruff.
“Yes.” I don’t have to ask what he’s talking about.
With my admission Tristan finally closes his eyes. He doesn’t say anything back. I can feel his body tense, but I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. He doesn’t move, and I’m gripped with an overwhelming fear that I just lost him. He’s not ready. It’s OK if he’s not ready to love me again. I just need to feel him. That’s where we make sense. It hurts to face the truth of all the pain I’ve caused, but it hurts even more to think of losing him.
I hold onto his shoulders and try to hold back tears as I whisper, “Tristan? Will you please fuck me? You don’t have to love me. Just please, take the hurt away.”
His eyes fly open and the previous calm is replaced by something else. An urgency. A need.
He digs his fingers into my hips before pushing quickly, deeply, and fully inside me. I cry out not from pain or displeasure, but from the shock of how complete I feel. They say two wrongs don’t make a right, but somehow we do. For as much as Tristan and I can’t be together, we’re made for each other.
I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face in Tristan’s shoulder, holding on to every piece of him he’s ever given me. I hold on to the hope that, despite all odds, this might somehow be a new beginning for us. I hold on to that hope because it’s all I have left.
In this moment we are everything—fear, love, history, pain—held together only by truth.
The kind of truth you can only tell in the dark.
The kind of truth that will change everything.
We humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
Tristan
Five Years Ago
“Here you go, son. I have to say you’re probably the youngest landowner I’ve ever met. Must be in a hurry to grow up or something.”
The real estate agent, Mr. Jenkins, hands me the final signed deed to the lot I just bought.
“Just excited to start my life and provide for my family, sir.” I reach my hand out to shake his.
“Family, huh? You’re not married or something, are you?”
I smile. “Not yet.”
I pull up to Hazel’s house and take a calming breath before getting out. I don’t want to give the surprise away as soon as she sees me.
Our relationship may not have been official up to this point, but that’s only because we’ve been stuck. We knew telling anybody about us would only lead to more drama, so we agreed that until we had a way out, we’d stick to our secret hookups.
For the past five years I’ve been working day and night at Charter Hill to save up money so we could have a fresh start. In the same amount of time, Ryan put himself through law school, Logan and Lucas started up some crazy venture capital firm, and, ever since her senior year, Hazel has taken an interest in photography. Even though we barely get to see each other and our patience has been tested, she’s managed to stay clean just like she promised. I knew she could do it if she really wanted to, and a part of me even likes to think she did it for me, too. For us. I’m so proud I could burst. It hasn’t been easy putting our lives on hold, but I can finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.
I finally have our way out.
I fold up the deed and put it in my inside jacket pocket, right next to the small velvet box already there. I try to contain my excitement as I let myself inside. Her mother is out tonight, so Hazel and I should have a couple of hours alone.
I head up to Hazel’s room but the door is closed. I knock and when Hazel opens it I can immediately tell something is up.
“What are you doing here?” She looks surprised to see me.
I furrow my brow in confusion. “I told you I was coming by, remember?”
She looks up as if trying to recall, then shrugs. “Oh, right. Did you need something?” She grips the door, sandwiching herself between it and the frame like she doesn’t want to let me inside. Her eyes dart back and forth and I notice her pupils are dilated.
My stomach rolls.
“Are you fucking high right now?” I don’t wait for an answer before pushing the door open to reveal two guys and a girl sitting on the floor, along with a mirror and a rolled-up twenty-dollar bill.
I get a sick, sinking feeling that I don’t know who this girl is at all. It can’t be my Hazel—she promised. How long has she been lying to me?
I grab a small bag of white powder off the floor and stare at Hazel in disbelief. “I thought you told me you were done with this shit?”
Hazel crosses her arms defensively. She looks hollow and weak. “Maybe I just told you what you wanted to hear.”
I clench my jaw and stare down the three people still on the floor. I point to the door with my free hand and say through gritted teeth, “Party’s over. Get the fuck out.” When they aren’t moving fast enough, I yell, “Now!”
As they stumble out, Hazel tries to fight me. “It’s my fucking life, Tristan. I can do whatever the hell I want!”
“It was supposed to be OUR life!” I yell, unable to control my emotions. This only agitates her more in her drugged-up state, so I try to calm us both down.
I grab her hands in mine, stopping them from pummeling my chest. “Babe, please. Listen to me. You don’t need to do this. We can get out of here and start our own life together. It’s us against the world, right?”
I put my forehead against hers, trying to reach her. For a second she melts into my arms and I think I’ve got her, but just as quickly she’s pulling away.
“You don’t fucking get it! It’s not us against the world, Tristan, it’s the world against us.”
“We can get through it together.”
“Together? You think because we fuck once in a while we’re together? We’re nothing, Tristan. I’m nothing to you and you’re nothing to me.”
I search her face, looking into her cold, wild eyes. She’s just mad at me. She doesn’t mean it. “I love you. I’m in love with you, Hazel. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“You can’t be serious right now.” She laughs cynically.
I reach for the box in my pocket to show her just how serious I am.
I hold the black box in one hand, the white bag in the other. “You can choose which way you want your life to go right now, Hazel. But it’s one or the other. You can’t have both.”
She looks at me with an expression I can’t read. Her eyes are either sad or sorry and I hold my breath, scared shitless to find out which it is.
Her hand slowly lifts before grabbing the white bag.
We made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
Tristan
I wake up in a cold sweat. I haven’t had a dream about that night in years.
I look over and see Hazel sprawled across the pillow next to me.
The girl that finally said she loves me.
Maybe I just told you what you wanted to hear. I get that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I roll out of bed and leave the room, quietly shutting the door behind me. I find my clothes by the door where we came in last night and pull them on. I look at the clock—it’s 6:13 in the morning. Still early. I slip out the back door.
As I walk along the deserted beach behind the house I think about my life. I think about how I grew up and how my mom treated me like garbage, about how Logan and I were bounced around foster homes, feeling like we were never wanted. I think about meeting Hazel and growing up and falling in love with her. I think about the night she chose drugs over a life with me and I think about how much I hated her for it. I think about fucking countless nameless, faceless girls for the past five years. I think about how much I wanted to get back at Hazel the minute I saw her name flash on my cell phone, for destroying any good I used to have in me.
Do I love Hazel Blake? Fuck, I don’t know. Can you love somebody you hate? We’ve been through hell and back and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get some sick pleasure out of fucking her.
But last night? That wasn’t fucking, even if it’s what she asked of me. Our arrangement was supposed to be simple—sex and only sex—yet what we did suddenly feels very complicated.
The thing is, I don’t want to hurt her. Maybe a part of me did in the beginning, but not anymore. I can tell she’s different now and I want her to have her second chance. It just can’t be with me—I’m more fucked up than ever. This whole time I’ve been telling myself I never knew the real Hazel, but the truth is I know Hazel better than I know myself sometimes. And that thought terrifies me. If I stay with her I’m afraid I’ll lose myself again, only to give her the chance to break us all over again. I can see now how leading her on has only caused more pain. It’s time to man up and make amends for that. I was weak, to give into her temptation, and now I’m left to suffer the consequences. I need to end this so we can both move on.
Even if I wanted to, I don’t know how to love Hazel Blake. And if I can’t love her I need to leave her. For good this time.
Tristan
When I get back to the house Hazel is in the kitchen, awake and dressed in yesterday’s clothes. She smiles when she sees me and my chest fucking burns, making it hard to breathe.
“Hey, I was wondering where you were. I thought you abandoned me here or something.” She laughs playfully and moves around the kitchen island toward me, but I turn away like a coward. I can’t bear to see her look so happy—not if I’m the reason for it.
“Tristan? Is everything OK?”
She gently holds onto my arm and I close my eyes. Why does her hand have to feel so fucking good? My fists clench and I muster every single ounce of detachment I can.
I look at her blankly and blurt, “We need to end this.”
She furrows her brow and bites her lip and I hate that I still want to reach out and kiss it. Her arms fall to her sides and she stands motionless, staring at me in a way that says she is hurt, yet not surprised.
What feels like several long minutes pass before she speaks softly, with a single tear running down her cheek. “I don’t want there to be an end to us.”
Gutted.
Wrecked.
Ruined.
Every piece of my heart shatters at the pure and simple truth pouring from her, but I steel myself, knowing that we need an end if I want her to have a new beginning. “There is no us. I made it perfectly clear that the only thing we’ve been doing is fucking.”
I suddenly regret ever having wished any sort of revenge on Hazel. It’s like I see myself standing back in her room, except this time it’s me choosing the white bag over the black box. The pain might be the same either way, but at least my choice isn’t selfish. I’m doing this so she can finally move on.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
I expect Hazel to walk out at my harsh words, but instead she stands up straighter and shakes her head. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying to both of us.” More tears are falling now, but she remains strong as she pulls her dress off over her head, followed by everything underneath. Her eyes never leave mine as she removes every last barrier between us and stands exposed in front of me. “If this is the only way you’ll talk to me then here I am, Tristan. This is me, naked and ready to tell the truth for once. And the truth is I love you. I’m in love with you, Tristan, and I always will be. I don’t know how to be me without you. And I know you love me, too. We’re wrong for each other in all the right ways. I need you . . . and you need me, too.”
Now I know without a doubt that I’m a stupid, selfish bastard, because it’s not Hazel’s well-being that keeps me from wrapping her in my arms and making all her hurt disappear. It’s my own fear that while I might be able to take her pain away, mine would only twist deeper. I don’t know how to love you, Hazel, and I’m afraid I might lose myself again if I try. That’s the real truth.
I bend down and pick up Hazel’s clothes. Her bravery and openness is about to shatter every bit of my resolve and I can’t bear to face it. I really am a fucking coward.
“I don’t need anybody, Hazel. You had your chance but you chose drugs instead, remember? We ended the second you made that choice.” My voice is ragged and sharp as I shove her clothes back into her arms to cover the things I don’t want to face anymore. I take my keys out of my pocket and drop them on top. “You can take my truck back. Keep it, for all I care. I don’t want to see you anymore.” I can’t see you anymore.
I turn and leave and I don’t look back. If I do, I’ll see just how much my words destroy her.
I guess that’s the thing about knowing someone so well—you know exactly how to hurt them in the worst way.
Tristan
Five Years Ago
When Hazel makes her choice there’s nothing left to say, so I simply leave. I wish I could say I made it all the way back to my car without looking back, but then I’d be an idiot and a liar.
Instead I decide to build a house.
Or start to, at least.
I spend every single day visiting the spot I bought, and I truly believe Hazel will come back to me. Will come back to us.
I do this for three months before realizing there is no fucking point. She’s gone and she’s never coming back. I wasn’t enough to change her.
I wasn’t enough, period.
So I smash my hammer through what was supposed to be our future kitchen wall and I pray on my fucking knees to any god that might listen to make me forget Hazel Blake ever existed.
Tristan
Like some sort of cruel, sick joke, the day I end things with Hazel at the beach house is the same day I find out my mother died.
An overdose. Too much of a drug she knew she couldn’t handle, but also couldn’t live without.
You’d think saying goodbye to both of them would feel like a fresh start, but hones
tly I feel . . . unfinished.
These women may have burnt and broken me, but they also shaped me. Every action and every word has carved out a piece of the man that is Tristan Sharp. Without them, he wouldn’t exist.
So how does he move on? How does he leave them behind?
“You ready?”
I look up from the spot on my living room carpet that I’ve been fixated on for hours. Or maybe it’s only been minutes. Who the hell can tell anymore? Logan is standing there in a black suit that matches mine, looking sad, but not as lost. He’s accepted our mom’s faults a lot better than I have, but I know this is hard for him, too. I’m lucky to have him around to hold together the pieces I’m not ready to handle.
He really is the better brother. Don’t tell him I said that.
I push myself off the couch and nod, even though I’m not sure how ready I am.
Logan pulls his black Range Rover into the church parking lot. We climb the big, stone steps leading up to the ornate wooden doors, but before we cross through I hesitate.
We used to go to church when we were little—one of the few things consistent between our mother’s house and the various foster homes we lived in—but God and I haven’t exactly been tight lately.
Don’t get me wrong; I have faith. I think. I believe in something, I’m just not sure exactly what.
I used to pray my mom would get better. Then I would pray for Hazel to get better. When neither of them did, I prayed to forget them, and we all know how well that worked out. It’s hard to believe you’re much good in this world when your life has been filled with unanswered prayers. I’m not even worthy enough to listen to, in God’s opinion.
I think about all the questions Hazel has asked me over the past few weeks. She listened like she actually heard me.
A bell tolling above snaps me from my reverie. Logan claps his hand on my shoulder and guides me over the threshold. In the lobby, he dips two fingers in the fountain of holy water and makes the sign of the cross on his forehead, chest, and shoulders. I do the same, out of respect, but I feel like a fraud.
Sick Pleasure (Crazy Beautiful Book 3) Page 13
