After the Storm

by Katy Ames

  Tristan dropped a hand to the hem of her shirt and slowly dragged it up. He stopped just south of her hip, his eyes locked on hers.

  “I don’t know how we ended up here. I don’t know what stroke of fate brought us to this place at this exact moment in time. And, honestly, I don’t care.” Tristan dropped his mouth to her neck, his eyes never leaving hers. “Do you want to know why?”

  Tessa nodded.

  “Because I’ve never been happier. Fuck.” He laughed, the rumble echoing in the small room. “I don’t even know if that’s what this is, the feeling that fills me when I’m with you. When I think about you. Because, honestly, I don’t know what happiness feels like. I’m not sure I ever have. But this—” Tristan slipped his hand beneath her shirt and smiled—without thought, without restraint—when he met smooth, soft Tessa. “Whatever this feeling is, it tells me you’re right. Whatever impulse told you to push, to persist, to not give up on me. It was right. You were right.

  “I’m yours.” Tristan opened his mouth against her neck, savoring the shiver he provoked when he licked her skin. “I’m yours. You’re mine. And not one fucking thing in this crazy, infuriating, amazing world can change that.”

  Tessa folded, her neck dropping, her back collapsing against his chest as Tristan tasted her pulse at the base of her neck. He didn’t know how to explain it better than that. But he could show her.

  “Watch, Tess. Let me show you.”

  Tristan pulled her shirt off, revealing stretches of perfectly imperfect, beautiful skin in the mirror. She looked so small, so fragile against him. Soft curves against his hard lines. But Tristan knew better. Tessa, his Tessa, was a warrior. And it was time to pay homage.

  Tessa’s arms hung loose at her sides. Tristan lifted them and pressed her hands flat against the counter.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered, before stripping off his own clothes. He was hard. Shit, he’d been hard since before she’d let him in, his body begging for the thing he had to make sure she understood: She was home. Sanctuary. His safe place in the storm.

  Tristan started at her fingers, stroking up the fine bones of her hands, tracing the joints of her wrists, before moving higher. His long arms engulfed her delicate ones, the flicker of his muscles a stark contrast to her stillness.

  He kissed one shoulder, then the other. Then his hands were at her neck, circling, caressing, before dropping to her breasts.

  “Here,” he whispered, his left hand stopping above her heart. “I’d know this sound anywhere, surer than I’d recognize my own voice.” And he would. He’d memorized it nights ago, the whoosh and rush of her blood as it surged through her.

  Tessa watched his hands in the mirror. Tristan spread them across her breasts, her fine skin the single most glorious thing he’d ever felt.

  “Your breasts. They’re a perfect fit. Like my hands were designed for the single purpose of holding them.” He cupped her as proof, Tessa’s nipples peeking through the gap between his fingers, her hips shifting restlessly as Tristan used his advantage to tease. To tempt.

  “I dream about your breasts. And the little moans you make when I touch them,” he said, thrilling at the way her heavy breaths pushed them harder against his hands, the upper swells overflowing his grip.

  He gave her one more squeeze before roaming lower.

  Tristan trailed the tips of his fingers across the slope of her stomach, watching in the mirror as her nerves flickered and her nipples got even harder.

  “Do you have any idea how much I love touching you?” Tristan asked, stroking her hips. Tessa shook her head, her tongue sweeping across her parted lips as she pushed back into him.

  Tristan’s knees buckled when his heavy, hard cock sank into the crevice between her cheeks. A sudden rush of blood flooded his erection, the head swelling, and he had to stop and wait for the lightheadedness to pass.

  “You were saying?” Tessa taunted.

  “Tease.” Tristan bit the fragile skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and Tessa bucked, coaxing a drop of pre-come from his tip.

  “No more than you….” Tessa’s voice failed when Tristan skimmed the tops of her thighs. Goosebumps blossomed under the too-light graze.

  “Do you remember that time in the kitchen?” His thumbs dipped into the creases between her torso and legs.

  “Ahhh…umm.” Tessa’s head shifted against his shoulder. “Which one?”

  Tristan chuckled, his chest rubbing against her sleek back. “When you yelled at me for taking the cake you’d made for Caleb.”

  “Um-hmm.”

  “You caught me completely by surprise. You looked so small, like I could pick you up and tuck you away somewhere. Like you couldn’t be a threat. But you were so angry.” Tristan laughed again. His eyes were fixed on their reflection, where his hands engulfed the tops of her thighs and the space between them. The longer he lingered, the hotter his fingers burned. “You started scolding me and, goddamn, Tessa, I thought you were so fucking adorable.”

  Tessa was staring at his hands in the mirror, her breath coming out in tiny puffs. But she still managed a frown. “I was not adorable. I was authoritative.”

  “You were.” Tristan nipped her shoulder, then soothed it with a long lick. Tessa’s frown deepened on a gasp, her hips swaying provocatively against him. “You were fierce. And pissed as hell. And you still took care of me.”

  Tristan met her eyes, the teasing replaced with something so much more serious. “I haven’t felt that in so long, Tess. Affection. Basic, warm compassion. Without motive.”

  He shifted, his arms tightening around her. Tessa’s body practically disappeared in his embrace. One hand cupped a breast, the other spanned her entire side. He held her tight, his words tickling her temple.

  “It started then. I tried to ignore it. Tried to fight it. Tried to tell myself it wasn’t possible. But you broke through. Sank in. Your kindness, your caring. Your warmth. Your patience. You wouldn’t let me run. And now….” Tristan’s voice caught, stumbling through an emotion that was still so foreign. “Now,” he finally managed, “you have me. Captured. Completely.”

  Tessa started to say something, but Tristan kissed it away. His hand cradled her jaw, tilting her to gain access to her mouth. Tristan kissed her slow and smooth, every shift of lips, every sweep of his tongue an echo of what he’d just said.

  They were both panting when they broke apart. Tristan could feel the tension that gripped Tessa, her body vibrating with the need that had been building and building.

  Tristan stared at her in the mirror. Tessa’s skin was flushed. The delicate muscles in her throat fluttered as she tried to catch her breath. Her breasts were round and swollen, her nipples tight points, begging for his mouth. Her hips rocked slightly, caressing him, whispering for attention. Her legs had parted slightly, opening for him. The promise held in that shadowed space had Tristan’s blood roaring.

  “Look at yourself, Tessa. Look at how absolutely breathtaking you are.” Tristan traced her, from neck to nipples, from navel to the nexus between her thighs. Tristan’s lungs were burning, every inch of his skin on fire, his cock throbbing. But he held back. Just a little longer. “Look at how you call to me.”

  Tessa’s eyes were unfocused as she followed his gaze down her body, a purely erotic sound slipping from her open mouth.

  Tristan groaned. Words were a jumble, his brain starting to short-circuit. He tugged her legs farther apart, making space for himself before grabbing a condom from the counter and rolling it on.

  Tessa’s hands scrambled against the granite when he parted her with a finger. A growl snagged in his chest when he felt how wet, how ready she was. They watched, together, as Tristan pushed deep between her thighs, slipping between her soft folds.

  “Look at how you welcome me, Tess.” Tristan brought his hand forward and circled around her clit, never actually touching it. The tendons in his arms flexed and Tessa watched, fixated. Her hips pivoted, her body mimicking his circular mov
ements on pure instinct. Each of her little gasps painted a puff of steam on the mirror.

  Tristan bent his knees and curled his body around hers. He needed to feel her, to press his skin as hard and as flush to hers as possible. His cock was squeezed between the luscious curves of her ass, every shift, every sway making him harder, longer.

  His wrist twisted again, his fingers making a slick sound as he traced her clit around and around. He was torturing her, and himself. His touch was firm but too light. His fingers so close but not close enough to give her the satisfaction her body was screaming for.

  Tessa’s head fell on a moan, her eyes squeezed shut as she twitched beneath him. “Tristan,” she pleaded, “please….”

  Her throaty gasp broke him. Tristan picked Tessa’s hands up off the counter and pressed them to the glass. The angle forced her over, her breasts swaying as her hips jutted towards him. Tristan swept his fingers through her swollen lips again, the pressure harder. Tessa cried out and came up on her toes. Tristan grabbed her left hip, keeping her like that.

  “Stay,” he ordered. “Watch.”

  Tessa looked up. Her eyes were nearly black beneath her lids. Her cheeks were so flushed, so pink with arousal because of what he was doing to her, because of what they were doing together, that Tristan’s cock strained, begging for home.

  He gripped his shaft, angling between her thighs. At the first touch of his swollen head to her sensitive clit, Tessa gasped. Her mouth stayed open, soundless, as Tristan positioned himself at her entrance. He notched himself there before bringing his hand up, joining the other on her hips, holding her still.

  The world around them vanished, everything shrinking down to a tiny bubble. Just them, the brutal anticipation, the feeling like they were on the brink of a precipice.

  Then Tristan moved. Slowly. Entering her inch by glorious inch. Tessa’s eyes widened in sensual wonder as she watched in the mirror, his shaft disappearing into her.

  It was erotic, elemental, and the sexiest fucking thing Tristan had ever seen. The way her eyes glazed over, her fingers gripped the glass, her breasts swayed with the subtle movement, the way her legs flexed as he entered her. Tristan groaned, his body locking tight as he hauled back the orgasm that threatened to overtake him.

  He’d wanted her to watch. To see how perfectly they came together. How it was the rightest thing in the whole world. Even though he was big and she so small. Even though he was cold, sharp, hard and lost, and she was warm, and lush, and the angel hovering over his shoulder. They were a study in contrast. Bitter and sweet. And they were balance. One made better by the other. Two parts, one whole.

  Tristan held still, drawing on the strength that always brought him back from sea. He wanted to drive into her, to fuck her so hard, so deep, so that she’d never forget the feel of him filling her. But, first….

  Tessa was restless, desperate for movement, for release. Tristan lined her spine with a series of open-mouthed kisses before nipping sharply. Tessa’s eyes flew to his, locking on him in the mirror.

  He slid one hand to her front, watching in the reflection as he moved lower to where they were joined. Tessa did too as, with one finger, he traced the connection of their bodies. It made him lightheaded, his erection getting painfully hard. The light movement emphasized how powerfully they were locked together. He could feel everything. The plush wetness of Tessa’s body where she opened for him. The heavy, solid root of his cock, slick with their combined need. The thick vein pulsing with blood so hard, so fast, he thought it might rupture. It was messy, and beautiful. And she was the only woman he wanted for the rest of his life.

  “You’re it for me, Tessa.” His voice tumbled through them. From where he spoke against her neck to where they were sealed together, cupped by his hand. “This is where I belong. In you. With you. Always. I know it. In my blood. In my bones. In the hollow part of me that you filled and forced back to life.” Tessa was shaking in his arms, her face stark with pleasure denied, her eyes swimming with emotion so fierce Tristan thought he was going to fly apart. “You said….” His throat locked, his swollen head nudging the edge of her womb. “You said you wouldn’t be able to breathe. If I don’t come back. But I always will. To you. Because now, it’s the only way I’ll be able to live.”

  They were half lost before he started moving. Tristan surged forward, sinking deep before pulling out, only his tip inside her.

  Tessa’s neck was bent, her head down, her eyes closed, every sense given over to how he made her feel. Tristan turned every thought, every ounce of himself over to making love to her.

  He sank in, slow at first, memorizing how her tight sheath gripped him, then faster, when the clatter in his blood became more than he could bear. Their breaths steamed up the mirror, Tessa’s fingers making tracks through the condensation.

  Each pant was followed by a desperate gasp. Each groan a whimper for release. Tristan dropped her hips, red points marking where his fingers had been. He drove up, high, forcefully, covering Tessa’s breasts with his hands.

  Her nipples rubbed against his palms with every thrust. Her delicious breasts, her firm, supple ass; her soft curves were Tristan’s heaven. “I’ll never get enough of you, Tess. I’m addicted.” Another drive, another moan tumbling free. “For life.”

  “Oh, God, Tristan!” Tessa sobbed.

  She was so fucking tight around him, so close. Pulse after pulse of anticipatory pleasure raking her, driving him on.

  Tristan kissed her neck, long, slow caresses at odds with his punishing thrusts into her body. He could feel the scream that was building in her beneath his lips.

  “Touch yourself,” he groaned. “Touch yourself, my sweet, sweet Tess. Feel how absolutely fucking amazing you are.”

  Tessa dropped her hand, her eager fingers landing on her clit. Tristan’s teeth clamped around her earlobe, the answering spasm of her inner muscles around him punishing.

  “Christ, Tristan,” Tessa gasped. “I’m so close. I want to come for you. Please, please…. Make me come.”

  Tristan lost his mind. The need on her face, the demand of her body. The love in her words. The trust in her voice…. It broke him and remade him all at once. And drove him into her so fast, over and over, that they were flying.

  “Tessa!” His pleasure ripped her name from his chest. Tristan couldn’t stop saying it. “Tessa, Tessa,” again and again, his voice hoarse, mixing with her keening cry as she shattered, drawing him higher, tighter, until Tristan swore he was touching her heart.

  They fell against the counter in a pile of limbs. Tristan was able to scramble enough thought that he looped an arm around her, preventing her from getting crushed between him and the hard surface.

  They stayed like that for countless minutes. Pulses slowing, sweat cooling, the tremors of their orgasms flaring a little softer, a little further apart, until they could breathe again.

  Tristan blinked when he heard Tessa groan.

  “You okay?” He suddenly remembered the bruises he’d made on her hips. God, he’d been crazed. And a little rough. Tristan was suddenly terrified that he’d hurt her.

  “Yeah,” she managed with a little laugh. “I just don’t think I can walk.”

  “Me neither. But give me a second and I’ll see what I can do.”

  It took longer than a second, but eventually Tristan shifted them apart and cleaned them up before swinging Tessa into his arms and carrying her to bed. They collapsed. Tristan sank onto his back and tugged Tessa so she was curled into his side, her head pillowed on his chest.

  Eyes closed, he found her face with his hand and tipped her up for a kiss. It was slow, sweet. Soft. Nothing like the intense, hard sex they’d just shared. But the meaning was just as clear. Take me. Keep me. I’m yours. Always.

  21

  First, it was the shift in the bed. Then Tessa heard the ringing. It was loud and irritating. And entirely too close.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Tristan mumbled, his arm hitting the bedside table next to hi
m. After some more banging and a curse, the noise stopped.

  She turned over when she heard Tristan mutter something.

  Dawn was peeking through the curtains. It was early, just about to be morning. Tessa grumbled. Her day would start soon, but the last thing she wanted to do was get out of bed. She was so happy there. Warm, peaceful. Her body was a little sore from the night before, but in the most wonderful way.

  Tessa curled her legs up under the covers and smiled when a tingle pulsed between them. She might be worn out, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to make love with Tristan again. Because she was sure it had been just that. Their connection, their shared emotion had been fierce. Unstoppable. The kind that melded her heart and body together, any feeling she experienced for him in one instantly enthralling the other.

  Her self-doubt, her anxiety—Tristan had obliterated them with an intimacy so powerful Tessa could still feel it in her toes.

  Ah, but you’re forgetting the guilt, aren’t you? You were going to confess. You were going to tell him everything and you didn’t. You took his love freely, Tessa, and you couldn’t even give him honesty in return.

  That bitter realization had Tessa jolting up at the exact moment she realized Tristan was no longer on the phone. And that every muscle in his body was rigid.

  “Tristan?”

  “It wasn’t my phone.”

  “What?”

  “The call I answered,” he said slowly. “It wasn’t my phone.”

  “Oh.” Tessa gripped the sheet to her chest, hearing the hint of warning in his voice. “Who was it?”

  Tristan didn’t answer. Instead, he got out of bed and pulled on his pants. Each movement was sharp, jerky. Tessa saw his hand clench before he brought it to the back of his neck and crushed down. Panic flooded her. Oh, fuck.

  “Tristan? Who was it?”