I stammer on, praying they’ll help me. I need at least one of them on my side, or I know Tristan won’t listen to me. “Y-you have to stop Tristan. He can’t race tonight; I witnessed him doing shots earlier! None of these people will give it a second thought.”
Brent’s eyes widen, and his brow scrunches at my admission. The severity of potential consequences to come from his brother racing their dad’s car tonight, hits him as well. “Fuck. I bet he’s throwing a few back to calm his nerves. Tris has been a wreck about everything lately. Regardless, he’ll be careless driving Dad’s new car if he’s been drinking.”
“P-please,” I hiccup and plead with Cole. He’s the only one I know who can pull this race off in his brother’s place. Cole practically drives for a living, and the faster the car, the better, as far as he’s concerned. My worry increases with each passing moment closer to Tristan getting behind the wheel of a car. “You have to stop him.”
He shakes his head, his gaze apologetic as he meets mine. “He’ll never stop. I know Tristan, and he’s doing this to prove a point.”
“What point?” I cry, the tears spilling more freely down my face. I no longer care who sees me like this, or what they may think about it.
“That...he can win. For you.”
“Me?” I choke. “But I don’t want him to do this!”
Kids begin to file out of the ballroom, and no one needs to say out loud where they’re going. I know exactly why everyone’s all hyped up. They’re going downstairs to get a good spot to watch this godforsaken race start.
I keep trying. “We have to do something, you guys. I won’t be able to live with myself if he gets in that car and races, let alone when he’s been drinking. You both should feel the same way about it that I do. You’re his brothers.”
The two men trade a few stares, silently having some sort of conversation before turning back to me. Cole says, “We may be able to change his mind, but it’ll involve your help.”
“Anything!” I agree immediately. “Just tell me what to do.”
They do their silent look-talk thing again before Cole’s hands move to squeeze my biceps. “Brent will take you to find Tristan. You have to keep him distracted,” he orders. “You’ll need to be persuasive, especially if he’s been drinking. He may be too much too handle or try to ignore you.”
“Okay, I can handle that.” I nod like a bobblehead before asking, “What’re you doing?’
He winks, flashing me his signature Cole smirk. “I’m gonna go win that race, beba.”
Surprisingly, his words don’t upset me like the thought of Tristan in the car does. I’ve ridden with Cole several times and know that this is his element. If anyone can win, and do so safely, it’s this blasé Cajun boy from the Bayou in front of me. Rather than chastise or nag him on being careful, I offer him a timid, grateful smile and lean into him. Placing a chaste kiss on his mouth, I say confidently, “Good luck, Cajun. Go kick some ass.”
Cole flashes a confident, excited grin at me before nodding to Brent. He quickly runs off in the direction of the garage and array of luxury vehicles.
Turning to Brent, my expression becomes serious as I demand, “Take me to Tristan. We have to get to him before he has a chance to leave. You can lock me in the room with him if necessary, so he stays.”
“Let’s hope he hasn’t drunk too much already or else neither of us will be able to stop him. You’re aware that the four of us don’t drink often. When we finally do throw some back, we turn into a giant mess. Thankfully, you haven’t been around us to witness it yet.”
I follow Brent. With my smaller legs, I have to nearly run to keep up with his swift pace, as he takes off in a jog through the mansion. We make several twists and turns throughout the never-ending maze of hallways and rooms before we eventually find Tristan.
The buff guy’s standing in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the front of the property. He peers outside, scrutinizing the driveway currently occupied with various souped-up, posh sports cars. No doubt everyone within a two-hundred-mile radius brought their daddy’s fastest toys to race for that seventy-five-thousand-dollar prize. It’s pocket change to Tristan, but to some, it’s a hefty payday.
Placing my hand on Brent’s solid bicep, I press up on my tippy-toes and place a tender, firm kiss to his cheek. Whispering quietly, I thank him for bringing me to his brother. “I appreciate this so much, Brent. I won’t forget how you’ve trusted me and helped when I asked.”
“Of course. I told you, anything you need, I’m your man.” His fingers lightly brush mine, keeping it respectful in front of Tristan. “Want me to talk to him?” He chin-lifts in the direction of his brother.
“No, I’ll be okay.”
He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, asking, “You’re sure?” His apprehensive stare flicks between Tristan and me. The headstrong guy currently staring up at the stars hasn’t noticed us in the shadow of the doorway yet.
“Yes, I can handle this. I’ll distract him, and we’ll find you guys later. Please wait for Cole in my place, just in case I don’t make it downstairs in time for the end of the race.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Brent interrogates.
My head falls to the side, tilting toward Tris. “We have a lot to talk about. At least, I do.” If his judgment and decisions are going to be careless on account of me, then it’s time I speak to him about my feelings, about everything. I’m not looking forward to the conversation either. I’ve barely been able to say something to Brent, and he wasn’t the one who gutted me the worst out of the quads. Tristan and Axel, though? They put me through the ringer; not that it matters. They all lied and hurt me in that aspect, especially considering I was falling in love with them so quickly.
Brent nods, frown firmly in place as he presses a kiss on the top of my head. “All right. Text me if you need me.” He strides off in the opposite direction of the hallway we came from. With his beefy presence absent, suddenly the silence feels much more pressing than it did with him at my side.
With a deep breath, I recite a silent prayer in search for a bit of courage and step into the room. “Hi, Tris.”
Tristan’s deep in thought and doesn’t notice me until I’m a few feet away. “Kresley?” His head falls back a bit with surprise, and I offer up a small smile in greeting. “I’m going to race…want to come and watch me win?” He stands up straight, his initial emotions falling away as his mask of easy confidence falls in its place.
Shaking my head in disagreement, his look falters momentarily before he’s stepping toward the door. My hand lands on his thick forearm, making him momentarily pause. “Wait.”
“Hmm?”
“I-I need to speak with you.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his penetrating steel irises peer deeply into my own. I could get lost in his stare if the opportunity were presented. Tristan steps closer, his body intimidating in size and invades my space. His scent encompasses the air around us, making me dizzy with his presence. He’s got the aura that just draws you in to him, making you crave more than he’s willing to give.
“What could be so pressing you can’t wait to tell me later? If it’s more of your attitude or more of your hateful digs, then I don’t want to hear it.”
Exhaling, I tug his arm to follow. I sit on the closest couch, bringing him with me. We’re facing each other, our kneecaps pressed against one another. It’s as close as I can handle at the moment. I was falling hard for Tristan’s bossy ways when my entire world was rocked with the reality of their intensions. He doesn’t want to hear the digs I’ve been making lately, which is understandable. However, I didn’t want to hear his lies either.
“You hurt me.” I eventually manage to breathe the confession after a few awkward moments of piercing silence have passed.
“I can’t do this now,” he objects immediately and moves to stand.
My grip tightens on his arm and I attempt to hold him in place. I’m no fool; he’s m
assive and can’t be stopped by me physically no matter what I do. He obeys my unspoken request, pausing. I know then, that deep down, he wants to hear me and that he does really care about what I have to say. “Well, that’s too bad, Tristan. It’s either now or never,” I proclaim with false bravado.
The words surprisingly work, and he sits back in place, leaning back into the couch. “By all means, then, please enlighten me.”
He’s been acting carelessly all day like Cole usually does, but he can’t hide his true, refined personality. I’d hated it about him when we’d first met, but now I love the polished feel of him. He’s always so put together, his words well thought out and meaningful. He’s not someone who ever speaks just to hear his own voice. He’s sure of himself and extremely confident. It took some getting used to, but now I find it an exceedingly sexy part of him. Not only in his words and mannerisms, but it’s also in the way he dresses and how he carries himself in those fine threads. Everything about him screams, wealthy, spoiled playboy, and I love it.
“You hurt me.” I start off by repeating my earlier confession, not knowing exactly what to say to him. There aren’t strong enough words to describe how he and his brothers made me feel when I learned of their deceitfulness.
Tristan’s brow rises. “Clearly.” He’s always so damn smug, even when I want to have a meaningful conversation.
“Look, I’m not good at this. Growing up in my family, we never talked about things that bothered us.”
“I have a feeling that’s how most families are, darling.”
Nodding, I agree. “Right, but you had your brothers growing up to teach you to work through things. I-I didn’t have anyone around to care enough to do those things for me or to even try. I don’t know how to open myself up to you enough without getting crushed all over again.”
“It wasn’t right, what we did, Kresley. We fucked up. In my defense, I was up-front with you once you found out about our plan.”
“Yeah, but then you also keep up the pretense of marrying me. Why? What’s the point of dragging it all out?” My voice grows in volume. “Did you enjoy screwing with me that much? You liked knowing you were ripping me apart inside and had that much control over another human? You just couldn’t stop yourself, huh?”
He scoffs. “Please. You’ve been doing your fair share of ripping us up since you moved in here. We’ve been walking on fucking eggshells, doing whatever we can not to piss you off or step on your toes, so you bolt again. You think it’s fun living like that? We constantly worry that we’ll push you away for good.”
My anger surfaces at his audacity to compare the bratty tantrums I’ve thrown lately to their devious, well-thought-out, devastating plan they’d had for me in place from the very start. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I stand up with a flourish and scream. He follows me up quickly. Getting to his feet, he towers over me, his body seemingly bigger than before. How do guys do that? Bulk up into monster size when they’re pissed?
I yell, “Screw you, entitled bastard!”
“That’s it! Finally!” he roars back. “Tell me how you really feel so I’ll stop tearing myself apart inside for what I did to you! Make me not care anymore!” he shouts and my cheeks redden, heat overtaking my frame. I want to put my hands around his throat and squeeze all while tearing his clothes off. It’s infuriating how turned on and furious he makes me all at once.
“You’re aching inside? Really?” I mock. “You know how I felt? I wanted to fucking die, Tristan!” I scream, and my traitorous tears overflow, spilling down my cheeks. My adrenaline spikes with my emotions going haywire. “I literally tried to jump off the balcony that day Brent brought me into the office! Have I wounded you so badly that you’ve tried to kill yourself?” I ask. “No, I haven’t, so fuck right off with your so-called guilt!”
He leans in, glaring as he brings his lips to mine, and he whispers, “I may not have tried to jump, but knowing you did...it fucking broke me. I died inside knowing that I pushed the woman I love so fucking far she’d rather die than fight me.” He swallows, his eyes growing wet before he turns away, and his words slap me in my heart. “Don’t ever stop fighting me,” he pleads.
“Oh Tristan,” I sigh and reach across to cup his cheek. His tortured gaze meets mine as I turn him to face me. “How could I be so blind?” I ask, and the moisture in his gaze falls—the tears a silent homage to the vulnerability he’s offered me. There was never a time I thought I’d see the strong man before me like this. I believed him deceiving me was the worst I could ever possibly feel. I was wrong. It’s nothing compared to witnessing him like this, pained inside and out.
“You love me?” I ask.
He affirms with a quick, eager nod.
Licking my lips, I jerk his body to mine. Tristan watches my mouth until he can no longer hold back, his lips meeting mine. It’s been too long since I’ve tasted his tongue. I’ve missed him and his powerful, selfish kisses. Day after day, I’ve yearned for their touches that I’d grown used to having.
Tris pulls back a mere breath away from me, just enough to speak. He acknowledges with his voice full of desire, “You thought it was all fake, but I’ve wanted you from the instant I saw you. I’ve loved you from the first time your bossy little ass stood up to me. You’re so fucking perfect; it drives me crazy.”
My lips lift into a smile, ready to gratefully argue with his words, but then he’s back to kissing me. My hands move to his neatly styled hair, yanking and plucking as his tongue caresses mine. He moves, his bulky frame pushing me to lie against the seat cushions. He follows until he’s positioned himself over me across the couch. Tristan’s hands move from my shoulders down over my back. He skirts along my sides to my hips and then finally squeezes my thighs. His palms are like a flame, setting me ablaze in their wake.
“I want you,” I admit. “Badly.”
“I want you, too, sugarplum.” He adjusts between my thighs, grinding his hardness against my core. His groan clashes with my moan and his hands move, cupping my breasts through the skintight minidress Sam had me wear tonight. It’s all white and sparkles—made entirely of white sequins. She was trying to prove a point dressing me up in it tonight. She wanted me to project hot but also future trophy wife material. I thought she wanted virginal, but once I slipped the dress over my head, it fits like a glove. I’d say her pick has done it’s jobs when it comes to the quads.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he confesses.
His mouth strays from mine, his day-old scruff leaving behind a tingle. The slight burn’s a reminder of where his lips have been and brought me pleasure. He rains kisses along my jaw, down the sensitive flesh of my throat and pauses at my breast. Glancing up, his starved gaze meets mine, “May I?” he asks, his fingers brushing over the swell of my breasts.
I give him a quick, jolted nod, and he’s pulling the expensive stretchy material to expose my push-up bra. My boobs may be somewhat perky, but a decent push-up works wonders in the cleavage department, especially since I’m nonsurgically enhanced. He growls at the nude lacy contraption he’s sent me from France, before planting wet kisses along my bra line. He sucks on the generous tops of the round globes, leaving purplish marks in his wake. It feels amazing, his mouth making my heart race with each new caress.
“More,” I moan, as my hands move to his wide shoulders and squeeze. I want him to touch me everywhere.
“With pleasure,” he promises against my flesh and pulls the bra down under my breasts. My nipples stand hard, the peeks begging for his attention next. His tongue laves at the buds, the intensity making me squirm underneath him. He nibbles, and I gasp as my core throbs for something to fill it.
“Tristan!” God, we should’ve done this a long time ago. His pelvis pushes into me, his thickness scraping over my needy bud. “Oh, yes!” I breathe, and he does it again, rotating his hips. It’s not enough; I don’t want him to stop. Lifting my hips upward, my body seeks his and his tantalizing pressure.
Groaning, Tristan mov
es his hips. He drives his hardness into me again and again, his mouth never straying from my breasts. “You’re absolutely divine…Jesus,” he manages to get out while switching to torment my other breast with his love bites.
“D-don’t stop,” I order, as my core ascends to meet his length and he grinds against me. The wet apex of my thighs seeks him out even after he’s pulled back a bit. My legs move, wrapping around his waist and my dress rides up to my waist. Tristan’s hands land on my hips, his thumbs rubbing over my hip bones as I gyrate against him.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “I’m going to come in my pants if you don’t calm down Kresley.”
“Good,” I cry as spasms wrack my core. My body trembles as I cling to him, an orgasm hitting me. “Oh yes, God, Tristan,” I moan. My eyes roll back as I momentarily lose myself and whimper through the onslaught of throbbing tingles. His hips rotate, then he’s rumbling out a deep groan against my breasts, his pleasure reaching its peak.
“Mon cher,” he mutters in calm relief as we remain tangled. Our limbs cling to the other while our bodies happily meld together. The ambiance is charged and has me wanting to peel our clothes off to take it even further.
“Make love to me, please,” I beg. He sits back, his irises full of passionate desire. His fingers move to the many buttons on his black shirt, the long strength in them has me wanting to feel them inside me.
“I’ll give you anything you want, Kresley,” he concurs, licking his lips in anticipation as he takes in my disheveled state. “You belong to us; I’ll do whatever it takes to make you love us again.”
“I-I never stopped, Tristan,” I disclose, and his expression softens a bit in tenderness before pent-up hunger takes over.
Our time’s cut short when Axel finds his way into the open doorway. “There you are!” he proclaims, seemingly winded. “I’ve been running all over this damned place looking for you guys.”
Ugly Dark Truth Page 8
