Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)

by R. K. Lilley

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  DANIKA

  I mingled. It wasn’t my favorite thing, but this was the kind of party that called for it. The only people I knew at the function were in high demand, my boyfriend and Frankie, a famous TV personality, included.

  I was in L.A. for the weekend, coming to Tristan instead of him coming to me, for a change. It took me less than five minutes at one L.A. party to know that this was not the place for me. I’d thought Vegas was bad, but L.A .was the pretentious version of it.

  We were at some stranger’s house again, but this house was being rented out, and had actual art on the walls, and so the people thought that it had substance.

  I wound up talking to a freckled, red-headed model that had a great set of legs and a wicked sense of humor. We hit it off right away when she made some wisecrack about the house’s owner needing to hide all of the mirrors on account of all the cokeheads in L.A.

  “Do you know the band?” I asked her finally, making small talk. I didn’t figure many of the people at the party would actually know them, since they hadn’t finished recording their first album.

  “Oh yeah. Love them. The lead singer is smokin’.”

  I smiled ruefully, totally used to that. “He is that.”

  “He’s great in bed, too. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, with that one. Can go all night.”

  That had me controlling my breath, and steadying my voice, with effort. “When did you sleep with him?”

  She waved her hand. “Oh, ages ago. Years. Met him in a club in Vegas. We holed up for like two weeks, hardly even left the room, fucked each other’s brains out. Wouldn’t mind a repeat performance, but I hear he has a girlfriend now. Maybe I’ll screw their new lead guitar. He’s fucking hot.”

  “I haven’t met that one.” My tone was casual, crisis averted, though I knew it wasn’t a good sign that I still had doubts about the man that I loved.

  “Hmm, he is yummy, but it’s like a downgrade. Tryst was killer in bed.”

  Oh Lord, I thought, I don’t want to hear this.

  “We did everything there is to do to each other. The man is dirty.”

  I wanted to plug my ears, or hell, stab out my eardrums. Instead, I made polite noises, and tried to block her out.

  “First guy I ever let fuck me in the ass. We couldn’t get enough of each other. He wanted to do everything to me. And it hurt, because he’s got a big fucking dick, but I still let him do it. It’s hard to say no to a man that gives you that many orgasms.”

  I wanted to throw up, or even just find the will to walk away from this woman’s unwanted verbal diarrhea. She continued on, oblivious, “I even grabbed a friend one night to join us. I swear to God, he wore us both out.”

  “Excuse me,” I finally said, just walking away when she started to wax poetic about his tongue.

  I didn’t find the woman’s candid charm so charming anymore.

  I basically hid out after that, avoiding mingling, avoiding all human contact, just sitting out back on one of the free lounges, trying to enjoy the perfect weather, the gorgeous view, and the light ocean breeze.

  I failed.

  Instead, I stewed about what some random chick had told me about things that had happened before I’d even met Tristan. I knew it was pathetic, and I made a promise to myself that I was not going to turn it into a thing. Not a fight thing. Not a drama thing. Not a thing at all, because I’d known about his past before I’d ever touched the man.

  And still, I stewed. For some reason, my mind had fixated on the act he’d done with some random chick that he’d never even mentioned wanting to do to me.

  He’d wanted to do everything to her, she’d said.

  Couldn’t get enough of each other, she’d said.

  Tristan found me there hours later. I was still just staring out at the ocean, even though it had long since gotten dark.

  He hunkered down beside me, studying me like he was gaging my mood. I knew that didn’t say good things about me, that I was so volatile he had to constantly assess.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.

  I just nodded, not particularly wanting to talk to him, or even look at him. I hoped I was starting my period or something, something that could account for me being so moody, and wanting only to withdraw into myself.

  “You ready to go to bed? They rented the place out for the night, and they reserved this amazing room for us. The party will probably go on all night, but I feel like I’ve done enough ass kissing to get a pass on the rest.”

  I smiled weakly. “Sure.”

  “You feel okay? You look a little woozy.”

  “I’m a little nauseous. Lying down should help.”

  “Want anything to eat or drink? They’re well stocked here.”

  I just shook my head, standing up.

  He immediately draped his arm over my shoulders, leading me into the house. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much company for you. I turned around and you were gone, and then I didn’t have a spare second to look for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It was your party. You should get to do whatever you want.” I knew as soon as I said it that it sounded petulant, and I wanted to take it back.

  “Hey now,” he said softly. “If I got to do what I wanted, I’d have been with you all night, now wouldn’t I?”

  I didn’t answer, just feeling tired.

  “Did you meet anyone interesting?”

  I met a model that said you were the first man she ever did anal with, I wanted to say, but no good could come of it, so I managed to hold my tongue.

  “Yeah. Some entertaining people around here,” I said instead.

  “Are you upset? It feels like you’re upset with me.”

  “I just don’t feel well. A good night’s sleep will help.”

  We were laying down, the room dark, sounds from the party still drifting to us when he said, “I’d always rather have you tell me what’s wrong, instead of keeping it bottled up. You know that, right? Whatever it is, I’d always rather know.”

  I sighed, knowing there was a short timer on how long I could keep my feelings to myself. There always had been. “Do you ever feel like you can’t get enough of me, Tristan?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do you want to do everything to me?”

  “What are we talking about? I thought you weren’t feeling well.”

  “Not tonight. I mean, just in general. Do you ever want to hole up in bed for two weeks and not let me out?”

  I felt him shifting on the bed, then draping himself over my still form, his lips going to the top of my head for a brief kiss. “That sounds like a kidnapping. If this is you somehow asking how much I want you, you’re being silly. I want you to the point of insanity. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. Two weeks in bed? That’s nothing. I’d keep you in bed for the rest of our lives, if there were any feasible way to do that. And I don’t feel like I’ll ever get enough of you; I know that I won’t. Now what is this all about?”

  “How come you’ve never even tried to…?” I couldn’t even finish the sentence, not even in the dark, when I’d already embarrassed myself.

  “Tried to what? Lock you in my bedroom? Don’t think I won’t, boo, now that you just gave me your permission.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “No…that isn’t what I was going to say.” I shut my eyes tight, hating that I could never keep any stupid thing to myself. “I met this model tonight, and she said that you guys stayed in bed together for two weeks, and did everything. She said you couldn’t get enough of her.”

  I felt him stiffen. “Sweetheart, I haven’t touch—“

  “It was years ago, she said. She has red hair, freckles, and great legs. Do you remember her?”

  “Is it good or bad that your description doesn’t even ring a bell?”

  I didn’t know the answer to that. “I wasn’t fishing for information from her. We were just chatting and she came out with all of that,
and then went into detail about all the crazy things you did to each other. It just got me thinking.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  I slapped his closest body part, the shoulder behind me. “And I started to wonder if you’ve been holding back on me, if there were other things you wanted to do, that you’ve done with other women.” I had a thought. “She said you had a threesome.”

  He cursed. “We are not fucking doing that.”

  “No, no, I wasn’t suggesting we do that. It just occurred to me that you’d been a lot more wild before me, and that you might get bored with how much your sex life has toned down in our relationship.”

  His hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, and his voice when he spoke was cold. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s not the novelty of an act that makes a thing exciting, Danika, it’s the feeling behind it. I guarantee that if I had a threesome with some chick I don’t remember, it wasn’t because I couldn’t get enough of her.

  You’re the only one I’ve felt like this with, and it’s the most exciting feeling in the world. Nothing has toned down for me. Just the opposite. You’re making it sound like it’s not wild enough for you. Tell me, what kind of things are you used to doing?” He’d really worked himself up by the last sentence.

  I wondered briefly why I worried about being a jealous nutcase, when Tristan could always manage to top me. “Nothing. I’ve never been wild at all, and you know it.”

  “I know it? You just basically told me that the best sex of my life has been toned down for you, so I’d really love to know what you think can top this. What did skinny jeans do for you that I haven’t?”

  “Tristan, now you’re being silly. I wasn’t talking about me.”

  “Weren’t you? What have I neglected, Danika? I won’t bring a third party into this, but you said you weren’t talking about that. So what is it? What’s the magic formula that equals a wild sex life? You think variety does that? Variety comes from boredom, and I will never fucking share you.”

  He was getting angrier by the second.

  “I don’t understand how this got so twisted,” I said quietly, honestly baffled. “Why are you so angry? And I never suggested anything about us sharing.”

  “You brought up a fucking threesome to me! What am I supposed to think?”

  “You’re the one that had a threesome. Quit turning everything around on me!”

  “Do you have any idea how crazy you make me? And you call it fucking toned down? Do you know how crazy that makes me?”

  “That is not what I meant at all. Again, I wasn’t talking about me.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not the one complaining about our sex life, now am I? The only complaint I have is that I’m out of town too much. So tell me, what is it that we haven’t done that makes you think our sex life is boring.”

  I said, my voice stern, “I’m done talking about this. You’re getting too worked up.”

  “Well, that still sounds like an improvement over toned down.”

  He was pressing hard against me from behind now, obviously aroused. The hand on my hip went up to grab my breast.

  “You’re impossible,” I told him.

  He ignored that, inching my camisole up, caressing me, his mouth on my neck. “You make me insane, you know that? Here I am, thinking things couldn’t get any hotter between us, and you’re worried we aren’t wild enough together?” As he spoke, he was moving my panties aside, nudging hard at my entrance.

  He plunged in, entering me fully, but then just stopping, holding himself there. “Tell me what we aren’t doing? What’s not enough for you here?” He moved inside of me slightly to illustrate his point.

  When I didn’t answer, he pulled out almost completely, as though to punish me for my silence.

  I bit my lip, reaching back to grip him in my hand. I shifted him, dragging his tip until it was poised at my other entrance.

  “What the fuck?” he growled into my ear. “This something you been wanting? Was this what you did with skinny jeans?”

  If I wasn’t so turned on and embarrassed, I’d have rolled my eyes. “No. I haven’t done this before, though skinny jeans, bleh, I mean Daryl, was obsessed with doing it, I never let him. I never got the appeal. It sounds painful.”

  “So why do you want to do it now?”

  “Just something that chick said to me. I know it’s something you like.”

  “Oh, you know that, do you? You think I’m shy about telling you what I like? Is that the impression you’ve gotten?”

  I pressed back against him, trying to work his big tip inside. I could tell right away that it wasn’t going to be easy. “You did it to a stranger. I just think you should give me everything you gave to all those other women.”

  “I do. I give you everything. No one else got anything worth having from me. When are you going to get that through your head?”

  “What if I just want to do it? Are you really going to tell me you aren’t even a little bit interested in it?”

  “You know why we haven’t done it? Because for me it’s been the thing you do when you get bored with random pussy. That may sound harsh, but that’s how I see it. You want me to fuck you like this? I’ll do it. I’ll take you fucking sideways, if the mood strikes you, but don’t twist it for a second into something I wanted, or something I was holding back from you. And frankly, I think I’m too angry to fuck you like that right now. You don’t do that angry, or it might really hurt you, though it’s going to be damned uncomfortable either way.”

  I wiggled back against him, still trying to work him inside of me with no success.

  With a frustrated sigh, he pulled away. I lay in stunned silence while he strode to the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

  The shower ran for less than five minutes, and he strode out, dressed again, just minutes after that.

  I squinted into the bright light behind him that wouldn’t let me see his face.

  “I’m going back out to the party. I’m too pissed off to sleep right now.”

  He shocked me when he just left.

  I couldn’t sleep either.

  I didn’t last ten minutes, throwing on my clothes, and following him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DANIKA

  I found him talking to Frankie and Estella and a small crowd of strangers.

  I was a little confused about Frankie and Estella, since Frankie swore up and down that they weren’t technically dating, even though they were spending plenty of time together. Estella stood very close to Frankie, her body language revealing her crush at a glance.

  Frankie, on the other hand, stood very aloof, arms crossed over her chest, barely seeming to notice that the other woman was practically fawning over her.

  I moved into the small circle of people, slipping under Tristan’s stiff arm without a word.

  He didn’t so much as twitch, not sparing me even a glance. His arm was held stiff, barely touching my shoulders, in fact making an effort to avoid as much contact as possible.

  He was pissed.

  I leaned into his side, my hand going to his abs, rubbing at the hard ridges prominent under his thin T-shirt as Frankie explained her filming schedule with the small crowd of L.A. hipster people that I didn’t know.

  I watched in rapt fascination as Tristan’s other hand moved to mine, and pulled it carefully away from his body, keeping me from touching him.

  He was so pissed.

  Men were strange creatures, I thought. Crazy aliens, really.

  I waited a few minutes after he released my hand, then took up rubbing his stomach again, kneading at the firm flesh, working up his ribs to rub at one swollen peck. I was getting myself worked up by the time he grabbed my hand and slowly pulled it away. Again.

  I patiently waited him out, pretending to listen to the group conversation with interest, slowly bringing my hand up to rub his abs again. I knew for a fact that even a pissed off Tristan couldn’t turn me down for long. The last time I’d put h
im in a pissy mood, all I’d had to do was go braless for a morning to get him to completely forget about it. He tugged me away again. I waited him out. Again.

  The next time I slipped my hand under his shirt, rubbing directly against his skin, pressing my breasts into his side. It was taking him longer each time to pull my hand off, and this time it took him the longest of all, and I heard his breath hitch when he did it.

  I waited patiently, then began to rub him again, over his shirt. He just let me, and I knew I’d won. We’d had plenty of stupid fights, but I was determined that this was not going to be one of them.

  I continued to touch him, not looking at him, just pressing hard against him, my hand softly rubbing.

  I loved the feel of him like nothing else, his firm flesh flexing under my fingers. I dragged my hand up every hard ridge in his abdomen, then back down, over and over, working myself into a state, becoming needy for more. More skin, more privacy, just more. I used the heel of my hand to rub harder.

  Finally, my body wound tight, I turned my head the slightest fraction, and quickly, furtively, I bit softly into his chest, loving the feel of him under my teeth.

  I wasn’t quick or furtive enough.

  “Don’t mind us. Go right ahead and maul each other,” Frankie called out casually.

  I ignored her.

  She laughed.

  “Excuse me,” Tristan said in a hard, quiet voice. He extricated himself from me, turned on his heel, and strode away. I stared after him, a little dumbstruck. What the hell was his problem?

  Frankie moved closer, and spoke more quietly. “What’s up with him?”

  I shrugged, giving Estella a small wave where she’d remained standing, chatting with hipster number whomever.

  “How’s it going with Estella?” I asked her, changing the subject.

  Frankie’s expression became very neutral. “Who knows? We’re just hanging out. She’s hard to read, but I think she’s just curious about me. I am a curiosity.”

  “I don’t think that’s it. I think she’s into you. Like, really into you. What’s hard to read is if you’re into her.”

  Frankie didn’t look at all convinced. “I’m not investing myself either way. Like I said, we’re just hanging out. She’s fun to spend time with.”