So my elation was tempered with a tinge of disappointment. On the one hand, I got to spend one-on-one time with Tristan, real quality time. But on the other, there was no risk in this. It was all legit, above the table, nothing shady or illicit about an innocent college jaunt. And so I took a deep breath, smiling at him, still unsure of what I should be feeling.
“When are we leaving?” I chirped, trying not to let my confusion be seen.
Tristan just looked at me.
“Today, baby girl,” he said looking at his watch. “In fact, we’ll leave in thirty minutes if you can get yourself ready in time,” he growled, nodding at my tiny tank and booty shorts.
I just laughed. Clearly, Tristan didn’t know me very well.
“I can be ready and packed in thirty, no worries,” I said softly, almost trembling with excitement. Because I’m still a simple woman, I can throw things together in ten minutes flat, no need for a hot iron, curlers, bags filled with make-up or an entire suitcase of stuff. I was still low-maintenance to the core and a small duffel was probably enough for a weekend trip. And so I padded off, throwing a shy smile at him as I went up the stairs, heart beating swiftly at the thought of the weekend ahead.
After fifteen minutes, my bag sat in the foyer, ready to go. The small duffel was stuffed, sure, but other than that and a little purse, I had nothing else with me, all my things neatly folded, no extras. Tristan was impressed, his eyebrows shooting off his forehead.
“Fifteen minutes early too,” he remarked, looking at his watch.
I just laughed at him.
“Mr. Marks, I’m a simple girl, I can handle it,” I said. “It doesn’t take much to make me happy,” I shrugged. Tristan’s eyebrows just shot even higher, those blue eyes hard to read. Sure, he was probably used to women with a lot of baggage, but I wasn’t that either literally or figuratively.
“Here little girl,” he said, his voice rough, imbued with emotion that I couldn’t quite process. He took my duffel in a big hand and swung it effortlessly over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. “Let’s go.”
The alpha guided me outside, shepherding me with one arm draped low around my back. I tingled at the contact, body heating up a million degrees but then gasped when I saw the car. Because instead of the town car we always took, a gray Maserati was parked in the circular drive, low slung, the chrome oh so sexy, implying speed, power and intensity in one go. Holy cow, were we going to be alone for the drive?
Catching my thoughts, Tristan gave me a wink.
“Thought I’d bring her out for a spin,” he remarked casually. “I hardly ever get a chance to take out the Grey Lady, figured this was a good opportunity to see the changing of the leaves and all.
I paused because the trip was suspiciously sounding like a date again. Sure, we were visiting his alma mater, but driving up there together in his sports car, taking in fall colors, alone together for hours in the small cab? There were definitely romantic overtones, it wasn’t just my imagination.
So I got into the passenger seat breathlessly, curving my small form to fit into the bucket. I was just about to look up at Tristan and say something light and airy when I caught sight of his face, breath catching in my throat. Because the big man was watching me, eyes glued to my curves, the expression on his face torn, like he wanted me desperately but was also doing his best to keep things in check, keep things kosher.
So smiling slightly to myself, I merely swung my legs in while making sure he got an eyeful of my toned, tanned pins.
“Ready?” I asked demurely, my smile secretive and sexy.
And with a low growl, the big man revved the engine and we were off.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tristan
She was beyond beautiful, she was charming, magnetic, funny, and intelligent, all rolled into one curvaceous, tantalizing package. During the drive I’d hardly been able to tear my eyes from her thighs at first, those creamy white pins displayed in a sweet skirt that went up to there as she sat next to me in the tiny car. I was literally having trouble focusing on the road, dodging and swerving this way and that as I navigated the New Jersey Turnpike.
“Mr. Marks, you better pay attention,” she giggled. “I think that’s a cop car over there,” she gestured, nodding her head towards the back. And groaning internally, I caught a glimpse of black and white in the mirror. Because with the way I was driving, completely distracted, my body stiff as I shifted gears, yeah I deserved a ticket or three for reckless endangerment. But fortunately the cop car focused on a blue Mazda in the next lane and I was able to hold it together as they pulled off onto the shoulder, safe for the time being.
“That was close,” giggled Daisy. “You haven’t even been drinking.”
That was true. It was 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning, I hadn’t had anything alcoholic, there was no excuse for my lameass swerving except the continued closeness of my ward, heady and exciting. And the brunette was positively brimming with happiness, shooting me a bright smile as we continued up the turnpike into the shadowed, leafy woods of upstate New York.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” she murmured, nodding to the scenery outside. And lo and behold, but it really was dreamy, the forest dense but not gloomy this time of year, the towering trees, the greens taking on their first tinges of majestic reds, yellows and oranges. It was pure magic and I loved enjoying it with someone who appreciated this kind of thing. God knows women in my past would have been bitching about this or that, the long drive, their cramped legs, the sudden cold snap. But not Daisy. And as if reading my mind, she turned to me again with another sweet smile.
“Isn’t it amazing?” she murmured once more. “The trees change color because the chlorophyll in their leaves is degrading, the green fading to reveal the red and yellow pigment that’s been there all along.”
And I looked at my ward sharply, taking in her curvy figure with sudden surprise and a measure of respect. I’d never expected Daisy to know the scientific basis behind the fall colors, why leaves change from green to red, eventually shedding during the winter. But as if sensing my surprise, the girl nodded.
“Mr. Marks, I do read you know,” she said teasingly. “I’m not a science whiz but I read the New York Times and the Washington Post, they have popular interest articles on scientific phenomena, everyday life, all sorts of things. I’m not a dunce,” she chided sweetly.
And I nodded, taken aback, realizing how little I knew about my ward. I’d sensed she was smart but I hadn’t figured she had the kind of roving mind that would include pieces about popular science, the world around us. But the girl merely confirmed it.
“I’ve been a nerd for ages now,” she confessed wryly. “Straight A’s for years and years. I just got contacts this year, re-vamped my wardrobe but before that, I was pretty much a wallflower.”
And I nodded stiffly, a little ashamed. The fact is, I had no idea who Daisy was up until she moved in last year. I figured she was doing fine at the boarding school, no news was good news.
“But you’re popular now?” I asked, low voice growling.
“Kind of,” the brunette said slowly. “Since my body changed, boys are definitely more interested,” she admitted with a wry smile. “And yeah, I’ve made some female friends, girls who are in the cool crowd,” she acknowledged with a small frown.
“But isn’t that what you want?” I growled.
The brunette’s frown went even deeper.
“I guess,” she said slowly. “The thing is that even if on the outside I’m different, on the inside I’m still me. Maybe I’m not in the library as much but I’m still reading on my iPad or on my phone all the time. I’m just not as overtly nerdy as before, but it’s still there. You can’t change a lifetime of habits in a couple months,” she laughed.
And I grunted then.
“Honey, that’s great,” I said slowly. “Because I admit, I figured I was going to have to pull some strings to get you into Hudson but let me ask … what’s your GPA? Do you thin
k you might be able to swing it on your own?”
And here Daisy’s head fell back, revealing the elegant curve of her neck, the smooth slope of her shoulder as she laughed, genuinely tickled by my question.
“Tristan, the guidance counselor says that Hudson would be a back-up for me,” she said tossed off, a teasing smile on her face. “I know it’s your alma mater and all but with my grades and test scores, Ms. Levine says I’m likely Harvard or Stanford-bound, my choice.”
And my insides seized. On the one hand, I was blown away. Harvard or Stanford? Those places were harder to get into than the Pentagon on lock down, you had to be a certifiable genius to be admitted these days. But on the other hand, I wasn’t surprised. Daisy was perceptive, a voracious reader, articulate and intelligent, so why not? Hudson would be lucky to get her. I was fine with it, my ego could take it.
“You sure you still want to go upstate then?” I growled, shooting her a sideways glance. “We don’t have to if your counselor thinks you’re a shoo-in somewhere else, I don’t want to force you to tour a back-up.”
And here, Daisy shot me a soft smile before covering my hand with hers, her fingers resting lightly on mine on the stick shift.
“Tristan, I want to go anyways,” she said gently. “Because it’s where you’re from. You got your undergrad and MBA from Hudson, right? I want to see this place where you spent so many years, what it means to you.”
And my heart jumped because this trip had just taken on so many more implications. I’d planned it as a way to get some time alone with Daisy, to get us out of the house and into the public eye without seeming fishy, without letting on that I was torn, that I had ulterior motives in trying to spend time with my ward that went way beyond mere academic achievement. But things were changing so quickly, the world moving fast, and I could hardly process it, breath catching in my throat. Because with Daisy’s disclosure, I realized that this was most definitely a date. Daisy could get into Hudson hands down, no questions asked, she was a rubber stamp candidate. And yet the girl was here, in this car, because of me. Because she wanted to spend time with me, get to know me on another level, trying out our newfound compatibility.
As a result my body zoomed from about fifty to a million in a second. If I’d already been aware of the little girl in the car, then I was twenty times more so now. She was interested, she was aware, we were playing on the same level and while I’d previously thought I was in charge, taking the lead, everything under control, suddenly I realized that Daisy was a worthy opponent. Despite being eighteen, the brunette was smart, savvy, and knew exactly what she was doing.
So when we pulled up to a rest stop, I still wasn’t sure what to expect, still reeling from the revelations about my ward. I needed to clear my head, get myself together, but this was hardly the place. The rest stop buzzed with energy and I looked around the parking lot with dread, taking in the huge McDonald’s sign, the Red Robin and Arby’s. Not exactly a restful place, what with the lumbering SUVs and fluorescent glare.
But Daisy bounded out of the car, lifting her arms over her head in a big stretch while smiling at me brightly, showing a glimpse of midriff.
“Come on,” she laughed, teasing me, tantalizing me while those brown curls blew in the wind. “Race you inside for a Big Mac.”
And I watched as she scampered off, throwing me a cheeky grin over her shoulder. I was even more surprised when she followed up on her threat, biting into a huge burger, eyes almost closing in ecstasy as juice ran down her chin, savoring Mickey D’s special sauce.
“Oohhh god, this is so good,” she moaned. “I’m ready to come right now with heaven on my lips,” she added with a wink as I stared.
“What, you’ve never seen a girl eat before?” she grinned, cocking an eyebrow while dabbing at her lips with a napkin. It was such an amazing sight, the relish with which she enjoyed the juicy ground beef contrasted with the ladylike finish as she patted her lips. And I was mesmerized, totally, utterly fucking stunned with the amazing high-low combination of the girl. Most women I knew would have turned up their noses at Mickey D’s, demanded I take them to some highbrow restaurant somewhere, or just starved themselves until we got to campus. But not the brunette.
I paused momentarily, not trusting myself. But it came out anyways.
“I’ve never met a woman sexier than you,” I ground out, staring at her hungrily, wishing I could devour her right then and there.
And Daisy paused for a moment, the tension in the air palpable. Because it was the first time there’d been any verbalization that maybe this was more than just the physical, that we were branching out into new territory, that despite everything wrong about the situation, we were exploring a relationship. And to her credit, she didn’t try to play it off like she didn’t understand, laugh it off like a naïve little girl. Instead, she put her burger down slowly, deliberately.
“Are you sure?” she said quietly, looking into my eyes, direct, meaningful.
And I shook my head.
“Baby, I’ve never been more sure,” I ground out, taking her hand. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
And she shot me a dazzling smile then.
“Then I’m glad,” she breathed, “because me too. I’ve never been so sure of anything either, I want to see …,” she said, biting her lip.
“Want to see where this goes?” I asked, finishing her sentence as if we were in a mind-meld, a couple that had been together for years already.
Silently, she nodded.
“We don’t have to talk about all the hurdles now,” she said, her voice halting. “I mean, I know this isn’t exactly the most traditional of relationships,” she said, alluding to the guardianship. “But for now, for today, I guess I just want to see,” she said quietly.
And I nodded, heart pounding in my chest. Who would have ever guessed that I’d be having a heart-to-heart, a “define the relationship” talk with a woman at a McDonald’s rest stop of all places? That I’d feel my world shattering only to come back together in an amazing twist, coagulating, re-attaching, taking on a whole new shape, a form that I never would have guessed?
But the unsteady thumps in my chest confirmed that it was true, that the most unlikely of circumstances really was unfolding, right here, right now. I was discussing with my beautiful ward the possibility of figuring something out, navigating the future together, exploring everything that could be, forbidden or not in the eyes of society.
And she smiled at me again, my heart almost cracking at the sight of the beautiful caramel eyes filled with light, happiness, with hope and promise for the future.
“We’ll figure it out,” she promised, putting one hand over mine, her small fingers entangling with my big ones. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”
And as I looked down at our clasped hands, I realized just how far gone I already was. Because my heart was already pumping steadily with renewed life, with excitement, with possibility … of everything that could happen with this amazing woman.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Daisy
I’m not sure when I became a woman to Tristan, rather than a mere girl. It happened sometime during the car ride, although it’s not clear exactly when. We were making conversation and it was so easy, so light, like we’d been friends forever, dating forever even, laughing, trading barbs, the talk free and easy. And I’d learned so much about him.
“Where are your parents?” I said curiously. “How come I’ve never heard anything about them?”
And Tristan glanced at me, smiling, even as he smoothly shifted gears, driving the Maserati, handling her curves like an elegant, purring woman.
“Why do you ask?” he asked lightly. “They’re around.”
I paused momentarily. I guess I didn’t know that much about my guardian. I’d always figured that he valued his privacy, that he was tight-lipped for a reason, that there were some shadowy secrets hidden away. So it was surprising that he opened up pretty easily, that Tristan was r
eceptive to the natural questions that would crop up during a developing relationship.
“But where are you from?” I pressed. “Where are your parents now? How come they never come to visit?”
“Well,” he drawled, pausing for a moment. “It’s not that they don’t come to visit, it’s that I visit them,” he said.
I sat back. Oh right, Tristan traveled a lot, he was often gone on non-stop business trips. I guess it wouldn’t be hard for him to stop off somewhere to drop in on his folks now and then.
“And so?” I asked, cocking my head. I was interested in everything about this man, unveiling his dark, mysterious secrets.
But he just threw his head back, laughing, revealing even white teeth. Teeth that had felt so good against my skin last night, his breath hot and heavy against my private parts.
“They’re in Kansas,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Just like Superman, I’m actually from Kansas.”
And I laughed with him. “So you’re Clark Kent, reporter extraordinaire, with Aunt Martha and Uncle Ben on the farm waiting for you back home?”
And he cocked an eyebrow at me again.
“Well, I actually was a reporter once,” he said. “Before I started Marks Holdings, I began at the bottom of the totem pole, just like anybody else, a cub reporter at … get this, Gotham News.”
And I almost laughed then. The thought of Tristan Marks as an entry-level employee, getting people coffee, running errands, pounding the pavement trying to get a scoop tickled me. He just didn’t seem like that type of guy, wearing nondescript khakis with a notebook and pen, hustling to get an interview, persuading people to talk.
But he nodded, as if sensing my disbelief.
“It’s true,” he confirmed. “I didn’t always wear thousand dollar suits, didn’t always wear wing-tips and drive Maseratis,” he said wryly. “Once upon a time, I was a farm boy from Kansas with an opportunity to attend school on a scholarship and I made the best of it. I went to KSU with every intention of coming out with flying colors, I’d worked so hard to get there.”
Claiming His Virgin In the Ring Page 47
