by Katy Ames
He was so close, and he didn’t have a condom.
“Tessa, wait.” He grabbed her hips, hard. “Stop.” It took Tristan a few seconds to gather the air he needed. “I don’t have any protection.”
Tessa’s face fell instantly, and he wanted to scream. When he’d set up his makeshift home in the cabin he’d never even considered having a woman there. Let alone finding himself about to have sex with Tessa there.
“I’m not on birth control,” she said, her hips still pulsing, little, tiny movements, despite his punishing grip.
“I can’t—” Tristan shook his head, not knowing what to say. “We can’t—” He was clean. And, given what he knew about Tessa and their current position, he trusted she was too. But unprotected sex was out of the question. His family was so fucked up already, there was no chance he was risking an unplanned pregnancy on top of everything else.
“Shhh.” Tessa silenced him with a kiss. “I know. We can’t. We won’t. But we can do something else.”
Tessa lingered against his mouth for one more second before she pushed up. Using one hand, she adjusted them so that the length of Tristan’s cock was cradled fully between her lower lips, her heat and wetness surrounding him from his base to just below his head. Palms flat on his chest, she pushed down, gripping his hips with her thighs. They were wedged together tight and Tessa rocked once, slowly, stroking Tristan with her core.
Tristan’s legs locked and his back arched, his head sinking into the pillow as Tessa rode him slowly, then harder. Her hair was everywhere, the strands curled with humidity and sleep and sex. Her breasts bounced. Round, full, and tempting, Tristan could see the evidence of his fingers and lips on her flushed nipples. The sight of it made his cock grow longer, pre-come dripping from the tip.
Losing himself to Tessa’s rhythm, Tristan curled both hands around her ass, gripping her cheeks as she slid forward, then back. Coaxing, then following.
She was a force of nature above him. Gorgeous and powerful, her eyes were closed in concentration, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth, the crease between her eyes deepening every time she rubbed her clit against his head.
Sweat dotted her chest and his neck. They were barely breathing, every instinct focused on where they stroked themselves against each other. Tessa moved faster. Tristan’s hips rose to meet her, every time, the cot creaking beneath their rough efforts.
Tessa’s nails bit into his muscles. “Oh, fuck, Tristan,” she gasped. “You’re so hard. And feel so good against my clit. Fuuuuuck.” The words fell out of her mouth, thready and high-pitched as she got closer and closer to coming.
“That’s it, sweet Tess. Make yourself come. Use me. Use my cock to make yourself come.”
The tingling was heavy at the base of his spine. He was going to come, hard. And soon.
“Come, Tessa. Come for me. Come on me.” Tristan held down her hips as he surged up, angling just right so that he pressed against her clit. She was shaking, every muscle rigid as she got closer to breaking.
“So close. Tristan, yes! Don’t stop. I’m so close. So-fucking-close.”
Tristan repeated the movement, jerking up, dragging her hips down, his cock harder, longer, pulsing heavy between her parted folds and his sweat-slicked skin. They both just needed one more stroke, one more push, and….
Tessa shattered first, her back arching sharply, her mouth open, eyes closed as she came, her hair skimming his hands where he held her hips, shaking with pleasure.
“Tessa,” Tristan groaned as his own climax hit him. His cock jerked between them, hard, almost painfully, as his release flooded his stomach and chest. Pulse after pulse, the pleasure gripped him for what felt like forever. Tristan thought he was going to pass out. He felt high. Free. His lungs hurt, his muscles were sore, his heart was pounding. His body ached in a way it never did after being in the ocean. And his soul felt freer than it had in decades.
They stayed like that, locked in the rictus of pleasure, for several heartbeats. They were a mess, their skin slick with sweat and satisfaction. Slowly, Tessa collapsed against him. Their breathing slowed, feeling returning to their limbs.
“We’re a little gross.” She giggled against his chest.
“Fuck,” Tristan swore, his own rough laugh following. “We really are.” Their stomachs were practically stuck together and he grimaced. He doubted that was the way to make a good impression on his…. What was she? Friend? Girlfriend? What did he call the woman who’d given him the most mind-bending climax of his life without even really fucking him?
The woman who had unearthed something he’d kept hidden, locked away….
“Sorry.” Tristan was glad she couldn’t see the color on his cheeks. “I’ll get something to clean us up.” He shifted Tessa and slid out from beneath her, ignoring when she tried to pull him back.
There was a tiny bathroom in the far corner of the cabin. It was basic. Just a toilet and a small sink, with a dingy, uncovered light bulb that bobbed overhead. But it had running water. Tristan quickly wiped his stomach and sides clean before grabbing a towel for Tessa. For the first time since he’d moved in, he wished he’d stolen softer ones from the hotel.
Tessa was on her back, her eyes closed. She hummed as he gently cleaned her off, her hand playing idly with his hair as worked.
The wind had picked back up. The eye had passed, the second half of the hurricane ready to slam into the island. A tremor trickled through him at the thought that Tessa had been out there. Because of him.
“Stop thinking about it.” Tessa was looking up at him, her eyes drowsy with sleepy contentment.
“Hmm?”
“You’re thinking about me. And the storm. And you can stop. I’m here. Safe. With you. So stop thinking about it and come back to bed.” Tessa shifted, making room for him.
Tristan joined her under the covers, relaxing as she slung one thigh over his legs and wrapped her arm around his chest. They both sighed when Tessa nestled her head into the groove of his shoulder.
Tristan’s eyes closed. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be very bossy?” He felt her lips curve against his pec.
“No one would dare. At least”—she paused, placing a soft kiss to his skin—“not in the kitchen.”
Tristan huffed a laugh into her hair, his body blanketed in the most incredible warmth. “I’ll be sure to remember that. Next time.”
“Don’t get any ideas.” Tessa yawned.
“Me? Never.”
She was breathing softly against him, and Tristan fell asleep, the storm outside almost completely forgotten.
16
When Tessa woke up, she was alone. The cot groaned as she sat up. Light seeped through the cracks between the shutters and Tessa looked around the cottage.
It was a single room. Random pieces of furniture were scattered around. There was a low-slung chair in front of a shabby fireplace. A tiny table with a straight-back chair was pushed against the far wall. A threadbare carpet ended just shy of the uncomfortable bed, and a turned-over crated served as a makeshift table.
There were small puddles of light scattered between the slices that snuck in from outside. Tessa realized they came from battery-powered camping lanterns. The glow of one fell across books stacked next to the bed.
Tessa picked up the one on top. The spine was broken in, the pages well-worn. “The Odyssey?” She read the title out loud.
“It’s a classic.”
Tessa found Tristan watching her from the far side of the room, a plate of unidentifiable food in one hand.
“Yeah,” she answered. “Not the lightest reading material ever.”
Tristan glanced back at the stack. Tessa smiled when she saw an old-school spy novel now at the top.
“Now that’s what I call a beach read.”
Tristan shrugged, but Tessa felt a little thrill when he gave her a small smile. It was a wonderful sight. And her desire to make it wider was intense.
“What do you have there?” She
pointed at the plate.
“Food. Well, sort of. Pretty much the only thing I have here.”
Tessa got out of bed, relishing the way Tristan’s eyes tumbled down her naked body. She was pretty damn sure that look matched her own as she crossed to where he was standing shirtless.
“I am kinda hungry.” The plate was a jumble of crackers, pastries, and bagels that looked at least two days old. Tessa’s stomach growled, wishing it was bacon.
“Sorry. I don’t have a stove here. I don’t usually cook.”
“You don’t say,” Tessa teased, nibbling on a piece of stale muffin. It wasn’t bad, but Tessa could think of a few other things she’d much rather be eating.
A breeze slipped through the crack around the cabin’s front door and Tessa shivered. Tristan dropped the plate on the nearby table and grabbed the shirt that was hanging on the chair. He slipped it over her head before she could protest.
“Don’t want you catching cold, on top of everything else,” he said, his brow drawn down in concentration.
“I appreciate the thought. But you can stop worrying about me,” she assured him. “I’m fine.”
Tristan picked up her bandaged hand where she’d rested it on his arm. He fingered the dressing, making sure it was tight and dry. “We need to change this.”
Tessa registered a dull ache in her palm but was far more focused on the one in his eyes.
“Hey.” She angled his face her way with her free hand. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you.”
“Thank me?”
“For saving my life.”
Tristan stumbled back, something dark flooding his expression. “No.”
“Yes.” Tessa gripped his shoulder so he couldn’t escape.
“No,” he repeated, stronger. “I’m the reason you were out there, Tessa. I’m the reason….” He blinked, unable to finish the thought. “I’m the reason,” he tried again, “you’re hurt.”
“No.” Tessa shook her head. “I’m the reason I’m hurt. You’re the reason I’m alive.”
Tristan winced, color leaching from his face.
Tessa wouldn’t let him look away. “I’m the one who decided to go out in the storm. That was all me.” Tristan started to growl and she stopped him, continuing, “And I’ll agree it was a stupid decision. But, stupid or not, I’d do it again.”
“Why?”
Tessa didn’t know how one word could hold so much hope, and so much trepidation. “Because…. You weren’t telling the truth, Tristan. Yesterday, in your room. You were lying. To us both.” She took his hand in her good one and squeezed. “Because no matter what you’re running from, in here”—she pressed their clasped hands to his chest—“you know we’re friends. More than that now.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I hope.”
“Tessa.” Tristan groaned her name before kissing her.
“I’d do it again,” she swore. “You run, I’ll follow. Again. In a heartbeat.”
Tristan swept her up in his arms, his hands gripping her thighs, her legs wrapped around his waist. He held her tight to his chest as he took her mouth in wide, possessive strokes. It was more than a kiss. It was a claiming. Wild and raw and untethered. Tessa tasted the same intense energy that she’d seen drive him out to open water.
“Tessa.” Tristan’s plea was part pleasure, part pain as he sank to the rough cabin floor, settling her across his lap, never breaking their kiss.
Tessa squirmed, getting as close to him as she could. He was hard and hot beneath her, solid and perfect. Tessa ran her fingers across the smooth stretch of his shoulders, digging deep every time Tristan’s tongue surged into her mouth.
He groaned when she stopped at the base of his neck, massaging the muscles there that were always so tense. The bandage on her left hand shielded some of his skin, but Tessa could feel the deep ridge that started at the top of his spine.
Tristan tensed, just as he had the night before, when she touched him there. Tessa was desperate to ask. To see. But he wasn’t ready. And if it had anything to do with why he was the way he was, Tessa wasn’t sure she was either.
But, unlike before, she didn’t pull away. Tessa opened her mouth, her lips and tongue soft, welcoming Tristan’s onslaught. His possession was fierce and focused. Tristan’s grip on her hips held her flush across his lap, his strength holding her down so she couldn’t even rock against him. Like he couldn’t stand for her to shift away, even a little bit, if it meant not touching her for one second. Tristan’s other hand held Tessa where her neck met her shoulder, his long, rough fingers wrapping around the base of her throat.
Tessa couldn’t ignore the way Tristan held her, like she belonged to him. Like he was marking ownership. And she couldn’t ignore the way his hands flexed, gripping tighter, every time she brushed the scar that cut down to the top of his shoulder blade.
Tristan rocked his hips up and Tessa gasped. He sucked the sound out of her mouth with another kiss and Tessa’s eyes rolled up, little pricks of light flashing behind her closed lids. Still, she didn’t let go.
Tessa spread her fingers as far as she could reach. She was so much smaller than him, her hand barely covering half of Tristan’s shoulder blade. Which made what she felt even worse. Because the deep groove at the top of his neck was only the start. The farther Tessa got, the wider the network of scars became.
Some were thinner than others, fine threads that intersected with deeper, sharper lines. Tessa whimpered into the kiss when she reached what must have been the epicenter of the injury. The divot was deep, a crater that cut into his rock-hard muscle. Tristan shook when Tessa flattened her palm against it. The wound had healed ages ago, the thinly stretched skin smooth with age. But, old or not, the injury was raw and tears burned behind Tessa’s lids as wave after wave of emotion poured through the big, strong man beneath her.
They didn’t speak. Tessa didn’t even know where to start. But they kissed, endlessly. Tristan drank from her mouth like it was the source of his next breath and the very reason to keep breathing.
Tessa accepted every stroke, every bite, every sweep of his tongue, every push of his lips. Throughout it all, she held on tight. Her inner thighs gripped his hips, his jeans rubbing against her sensitive skin. She kept her arms looped around his shoulders, one hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck. And the other pressed, simply, firmly, against the ragged skin on his back.
Time passed. She had no idea how much. Slowly, their kisses softened. Tristan’s chest rose on a deep inhale and he feathered light pecks along the corner of her mouth. They both ignored the salt that stained her cheeks, where the tears that Tessa hadn’t been able to stop had dried.
“We need to get back,” Tristan whispered.
Tessa just nodded. She didn’t want to leave the cabin. Less than twenty-four hours ago she hadn’t known it existed. But, now that she did, she wanted to stay. It was rough and shabby and nothing like the hotel or her apartment. And it was where Tristan lived.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. The hurricane’s passed.”
Tessa focused on the world outside the little room and realized he was right. The rain had stopped and the wind was gone. The light piercing the windows was brighter. Sunlight. Not the cold gray from before.
“I have to check the damage. See what needs to be fixed.”
“Yes,” Tessa sighed, shifting in his lap and ignoring how his hard cock called to her where it pressed into her thigh.
Tristan leaned back, his lips angled in what Tessa realized was humor. “You gonna get up?”
“Just a second,” she complained, not at all ready to leave the warmth and comfort of her perch. Then a question punctured her hazy brain. “Tristan?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you leave?”
“Leave?”
“Before the storm. Why didn’t you stay at the hotel? Why the hell did you come out here?”
“Oh.” Tristan looked away, his jaw locked tight. “Honestly? I didn’t think
about it. After you left, I couldn’t stay in that room. I went for a run. A long one. When I was done, I came here.” Tristan glanced around the cabin. “It isn’t the sturdiest place, but it’s solid enough. I knew it would weather the storm. It’s survived plenty before. And….” He trailed off, unable to meet Tessa’s eyes.
“And?” Tessa tilted his face to hers. She hated the shame she saw there.
“I couldn’t go back to the hotel. I was so cruel to you, Tessa. I’m so sorry.” Regret lined his stern, gorgeous features. “I should never have said the things I did. It was awful.” He hauled in a deep breath. “I was awful.”
Tessa studied him. “You definitely were an ass.”
“I was.”
“Glad you can admit it.” Tessa smiled softly, tracing the corner of his mouth with one finger. “Can I make a request?”
Tristan groaned when Tessa followed her finger with the tip of her tongue. She really wasn’t playing fair.
“Yes.” It was more of a moan than a word.
Her brown eyes locked on his blue. “Next time, just talk to me. I know you’re getting used to this having-a-friend thing. And I’ll be the first to admit that you pull off the whole mysterious, moody vibe really well. Like, really, really well.”
Tristan chuckled, despite his cautious expression.
“But it won’t work. Not between us. Not now that we’re….” Tessa stopped, unsure what to say.
“Not now that we’re sleeping together?” Tristan supplied.
“Are we? Sleeping together?”
“Yes.” It reverberated with conviction. “Yes,” Tristan repeated. “We’re sleeping together. And”—he nipped the bottom of her chin—“doing a lot more, I hope.”
“In that case,” Tessa continued, her eyes warm but serious. “Just talk to me. You don’t have to explain everything. Shit, you don’t have to explain anything. At least, not right away. But don’t lash out. Don’t push me away. And, please, don’t leave. Don’t disappear on me like that. Not again.”
