by Kristie Cook
"Your silence concerns me," Tristan finally said.
"I'm sorry. I'm just…" I couldn't say it. "…ready to be wherever we're going."
He glanced at me. "Too much hesitation. That's not what you're really thinking."
I debated whether to just come out with it or push through it. I'd told him I trusted him. In fact, I'd just vowed tonight to trust him. I thought in silence for a while. What I ended up blurting out was not exactly what I'd been thinking.
"Tristan, when was the last time you were with a woman?"
He looked at me in shock and let off the gas. I thought at first he'd slowed down out of surprise, but then he made a turn off the highway. And he still hadn't answered me.
"You're not going to tell me," I muttered. "It's not like I ever thought I was the first. You've been around for…a long time."
"This is another subject we shouldn't be discussing tonight."
"I'm just curious."
"Why are you suddenly curious on our wedding night?" He sounded angry and his jaw muscle twitched.
He turned the car into a private driveway ending at a large house. The moon reflected on the water behind it and bounced off the house's metal roof. He parked. I didn't move. All I could see in the darkness was a two-story house with the front door on the second level and stairs and a deck in front of it. I stared out the window at the lattice that wrapped around the ground level.
Tristan turned to glare at me and I finally looked at him.
"I know you don't like talking about your past and I'm sorry I made you angry. It's just...I'm just…nervous," I finally admitted.
His face softened and he sighed heavily.
"Not for over twenty-something years and only when it was necessary. That was my old life, before… I hate that's how it is for us, but it is." He watched me for a reaction and I gave it.
"So, at least it's not the blind leading the blind," I blurted.
He laughed, apparently caught off guard. "You are so…different."
"That's what I've been told." I scowled.
He leaned over and kissed me, then murmured, "I have never made love ."
"That makes me happy to know I'm your first in that way." The butterflies only strengthened, though, and I sighed. "But it's not helping with the nerves. I seriously don't know what to do."
He gave me a strange look. "Who are you and what have you done with my Lexi?"
"Huh?"
"How many times have you started something with me and wanted to finish it?" His eyes danced playfully as his hand caressed my face and neck.
I smiled sheepishly. "A lot."
"So why the nerves now?"
"Because I know it's actually going to happen and I've had way too much time to think about it."
"Ah. Maybe you need to stop thinking then." He leaned over and kissed me again. "You know more than you think you do. You certainly know how to turn me on."
He brushed his lips against my neck and up to my ear. I shivered.
"That's you turning me on," I breathed.
"Good. That's how it starts, by the way." He kissed my lips before I could retort. "Stay here, I'll be right back."
He jumped out of the car and was up the stairs and at the front door so quickly, I was sure he flashed. He opened the door, pressed a code into the alarm system just inside, and flipped on a couple lights. I knew he flashed back down to me because he stood inside the doorway and then instantly he stood right next to me. I laughed as he bent over the car door and scooped me out, carrying me up the stairs and inside.
"The tradition is you carry me over our own threshold," I said as he set me on my feet in the small foyer. The smell of fresh paint and lumber told me the house was either new or recently remodeled.
"This is. Well, yours anyway." He took my hand and pulled me through a doorway into a fabulous kitchen open to a dining area and family room. He put his arms around me from behind and nuzzled his face against my ear. "My wedding gift to you."
He nodded at a small pile of papers on the counter with keys on top.
" What ?" Then I came back to reality. "You mean while we're here. This little trip, right?"
"Well, that, too. But I mean the house. It's yours."
"Tristan," I gasped. "A house ? Are you crazy ?"
He grinned and kissed my temple. "Thank you for being my wife."
I shook my head. "This isn't right. I didn't even have time to get you anything yet and you got a house ? You can't give this to me."
"Will you please stop being difficult on this night of all nights? Just relax and enjoy it, okay?"
I turned around and stared at him in disbelief. He cupped his hands around my face.
"Think of it as an investment for our future. I just had to put it in your name for tax reasons…among others. Okay?"
I relaxed and smiled, knowing this was his area of expertise.
" Ours , then," I said.
"If you prefer…" He gave me a quick kiss. "Stay here while I get our bags and then I'll show you my favorite room."
It took him longer than I expected. I walked around the island kitchen with its smooth granite countertops and into the family room, admiring the perfection throughout. Everything was exactly the way I'd design and decorate it myself, if I had any talent at all. Sand-colored walls, sun-bleached wood floors and furniture, fabrics in cerulean blue, coral, aqua and shell-pink—the feeling of the beach brought indoors. A wall of sliding glass doors led out to a screened-in balcony. The darkness swallowed anything beyond except the water still reflecting the moon.
"Sorry," Tristan said, appearing in the kitchen. "I had to get an update."
I looked at him expectantly.
"We're fine. We can just enjoy ourselves. So, what do you think so far?"
I walked over to him and stood on my toes to kiss him. "It's perfect!"
He let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Good. Come on."
He took my hand and led me across the family room and through a door leading into a large bedroom suite. A big bed faced a small sitting area with a chaise lounge and more sliding glass doors. Everything was white except for splashes of jewel-tone colors, primarily amethyst, my favorite. It felt like a tropical island.
"I call it the Caribbean room," he said.
"I love it!"
"I hoped you would." He beamed, reminding me of a little kid proudly showing off his artwork.
"Oh! Tristan…did you design this house?"
His grin widened.
I stared at him in disbelief. "You're amazing !"
" You are amazing, ma lykita ," he said, taking me into his arms. "And for some reason I still don't understand, you are mine."
I placed my hands on the sides of his face, tilting it down toward me, and gazed into his sparkling eyes. "You don't need to understand. Just know ."
I pulled his face down to me and pressed my lips to his. The passion, pent up for the last several weeks, rose quickly in both of us. Our lips moved together longingly, kissing and tugging. Our hands caressed each other's faces and necks. I pushed my fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, separating my lips and welcoming his tangy-sweet taste on my tongue. I slid my hands down his strong neck, over his broad shoulders and along his hard chest.
As we kissed more fervently, his hand moved down my back, sliding between the bodice and the skirt and resting against the small of my back. His other hand caressed my neck and slid down slowly along the plane of my chest and back up. His mouth traveled over my chin and down my throat. I arched my back, lifting my chest against his lips. His mouth was warm and wet on my skin. His hand felt along the straps, up and around the collar.
"How do I get this thing off you?" he murmured desperately.
I smiled. "It's complicated."
I unhooked the choker and pulled my arms through the straps and then brought his hand to the hidden zipper in the back. The bodice fell to the floor. He cupped my breasts in his hands and my nipples hardened as he kissed and licked
, electricity surging everywhere he touched me, rippling across my skin. He rolled one tip with his thumb, while taking the other into his mouth, suckling and pulling it into a hard nub. My lower body squeezed as if there were a direct line from my breasts to my groin.
I frantically pulled his shirt off and my skirt fell next. He lifted me up and I pressed against him, running my lips and tongue along his smooth neck, tasting, kissing, sucking. He carried me over to the bed and gently lay me down.
"You are dangerously beautiful," he murmured, appraising me as he slid off his slacks.
Keeping my eyes from wandering, I looked into his eyes and saw no fire—just beautiful emerald green and sparkly gold.
"You're…okay," I said quietly.
"I am truly Amadis now. The monster is buried deeply…maybe gone forever." His smile faltered. "Of course, we do still need to be careful. You're still so very fragile."
My heart raced as he climbed onto the bed and lay next to me. He placed his hand lightly around my neck and kissed my mouth with renewed fervor. His hand glided down, over and between my bare breasts, along my stomach, around the curve of my hip and along my thigh, leaving shocks of electricity along the path. His hand encircled my calf and he hitched my leg over his hip, then slid his hand up the back of my thigh. My body warmed and quivered with both yearning and fright.
My hands ran along his bare chest for the first time in way too long, feeling its smooth planes and curves. They trembled as they moved lower, along his perfect lines, his muscles flexing under my touch. He hooked his thumb under the elastic of my panties and, with a slight jerk, tore them off.
We explored new places we'd never been and we both hesitated before reaching those parts that throbbed with frantic desire. He was hard and big in my hand, exciting and scaring me at the same time as I stroked him and he moaned. His tongue flicked at my nipple as his hand separated my legs, caressing my inner thighs and then between. A finger slid into me. A small cry of surprise and pleasure escaped my throat.
"You're warm and wet," he breathed against my breast.
I froze and looked at him, not knowing what to say, heat rising to my face. "Um, sorry?"
He smiled. "That's a good thing."
He rolled over on top of me, gently moving between my legs. He must have seen the panic in my eyes.
"You okay? You look…really scared." His voice was low, kind, gentle.
"You're just…um…" I blushed again. "…really big ."
I had a hard time imagining all of that inside little me .
A smile played on his lips. "Sorry."
I giggled, despite everything. "No, you're not."
He pressed down against me and ran his mouth across my cheek.
"No, not really," he whispered against my ear. He shifted and I could feel his stiffness pressing against me. "Ready?"
I stared into his eyes and nodded.
"I'll be gentle," he said softly. And he barely moved his hips, sliding slightly inside me.
OW! I bit my lip. He must have felt me tense because he didn't move. We both remained perfectly still, but I could feel him throbbing inside me. I also felt…something. I didn't think my body could heal that …that wasn't supposed to heal. But the pain subsided and I relaxed.
"Okay?" he asked, his eyes holding mine.
I nodded again. He slid in further and I gasped, but not with pain. He knew, too, because he continued slowly, an inch at a time, until he filled me completely. Then he moved, back and forth, in and out, slow at first, then faster. And harder. And deeper. Each stroke electrified me, sending jolts of pleasure throughout my body. My back arched and I clawed at him. I climbed quickly to my first ever orgasm. But he kept going and I kept coming, again and again, each one building on the previous one, bigger, better, higher, until I thought I'd fly over some unseen edge and into oblivion to never return again. And then he thrust himself inside me harder and deeper than ever and there I went over that edge, losing all control. Every muscle in my body contracted. My back arched. My head went dizzy with euphoria. I shuddered violently with a moan, squeezing him as he convulsed inside me.
He collapsed against me and we lay still for several moments, panting, our hearts pounding against each other's chests.
He finally rolled off and lay on his side next to me, running his fingertips randomly over my breasts and stomach. My body quivered as if I'd truly been electrocuted. We grinned at each other and I'd never seen his eyes sparkle so brightly. I knew exactly how he felt and wondered why people bothered with drugs when making love had to be the ultimate high.
Physically spent, I eventually turned onto my side, facing him, and pressed the full length of my body against his, our legs intertwining. We fell asleep naked in each other's arms. But not for long. I awoke to the tingling of Tristan's fingers running along my ribs and down my side.
"I'm sorry, but I can't get enough of you," he murmured.
"Don't be sorry. I'm all yours." I kissed him with a new hunger.
Knowing what to expect this time…wanting it desperately…I let my inhibitions and self-consciousness fall away. My natural instincts took over and the animal inside came out to play.
Chapter 24
Light filled the Caribbean room when I awoke only a couple hours later. I was snuggled up to Tristan's back, his arm thrown over my hip. I kissed his shoulders and ran my fingertips along his spine, hoping to wake him if he wasn't already. The air caught in my throat when I saw the marks all over his back.
"Tristan! What happened to you?" I cried, sitting up.
He rolled onto his back and they were all over his chest, too: long, purplish-yellow streaks like scratches but they were fading bruises. Larger bruises discolored his shoulders, ribs and hips. He glanced down at his chest and grinned.
"You."
" What ?"
He lifted my hand and placed my palm against one of the bruises on his ribs. It was the perfect size. The bruised streaks matched the width of my fingers. The blotches on his hips were as wide as my thighs. I stared at him in horror.
"Looks like I wasn't the only one we should've been worried about." He laughed.
I threw my hands to my face to hide my shame. "Oh, I am so sorry !"
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him. I was afraid to touch him.
"They only look bad because we did it so many times, but they don't hurt," he promised. Then he lowered his voice. "Besides, I kind of liked it. Actually, I really liked it."
I pulled myself away to get a good look at his face. He grinned. Mom was right. I rolled my eyes. And that's when I noticed the cracked and chipped headboard and a dent in the wall above it. I eyed Tristan.
"I don't know who did what, but I don't think anger is the only emotion that brings out your strength." He laughed and squeezed my thigh. I cringed—I had my own bruises.
We lay in bed until our stomachs growled and decided to take a shower before we ate. That's when I first felt, and then saw, the mark on Tristan's chest, right over his heart. I didn't know how I missed it before, perhaps distracted by all the bruises. This wasn't a bruise or a scratch. It had a design, dark red and slightly raised. I traced my finger over it and looked into his eyes.
"I've never noticed that before," I said.
He didn't answer, but he traced the birthmark over my own heart. It had always been faint, just slightly different pigmentation from the skin around it. Now it was also raised and pink. They had the same strange design…and now I realized it was the same design embossed on that envelope I found in Mom's office several months ago.
"What does it mean?" I asked.
"Sophia never told you? It's the mark of the Amadis family."
I remembered the burning, tingling sensation under Rina's hand when she held it right there. Her other hand had been over Tristan's heart. My breath caught.
"Rina branded you?"
Tristan chuckled. "It's always been there, underneath. You brought it out."
"Huh." I felt
mine with my fingers and then went back to his. I couldn't help but kiss it.
We made love in the shower, trying not to break the tiles—six didn't make it. It was better than I ever imagined, and I'd dreamt about the scene many, many times. The water rained down on us…Tristan held me securely, my legs wrapped around his waist…. Mmm…much better than any dream.
After the shower, as I rummaged through my bag for something to wear, I remembered the condoms. I placed the box on the counter.
"We should be more responsible," I muttered.
Tristan pulled a box out of his own bag. "Yes, we should."
I laughed. "Do you think we have enough?"
"We can always get more…."
We eyed each other. I was instantly in his arms again.
"Maybe we should let this new round of bruises heal first," I said, placing my hands on his chest.
"Mmm…I guess you're right." He gave my butt a playful squeeze. "I need to feed you anyway, keep your energy up."
Mom had packed me two sets of clothes, a bathing suit and the box I knew contained lingerie. Not knowing our plans, I decided to just not get dressed yet and wrapped the soft, thick towel around me instead. I padded out to the kitchen, where Tristan poked around the refrigerator.
"There's food in there?" I asked, surprised. I sat on a barstool at the island.
"I had some brought in. Not a lot, but we can get more if we stay."
I watched him with awe—he wore only shorts and it wasn't just his muscles that held my eyes. His tanned skin seemed to glow . I tore my eyes away and glanced down at the house papers in front of me. Something caught my interest. The owner's name was not mine. Maybe I did misunderstand .
"Tristan, who's Katie Andrews and why does her trust own this house? I thought…"
He placed some green grapes and cheese on the counter and turned to the pantry. "If you did some real digging through several attorneys' offices, you might be able to find that Katie Andrews is an alias for Alexis Ames. Hopefully, though, you wouldn't."
"Why'd you do all that?" I asked, impressed. I got up and found glasses and filled them with ice and water.
"Because there are certain people who don't need to know you own this house. I had it built for you and no one can take it away from you." He gathered the food in his arms. "Let's sit outside."
