by Nana Malone
* * *
Synthia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. As seduction masters went, Tristan Dawson was a natural. The way he moved, the way he smiled. Even the way he ate. He’d been eye-sexing her from across their dinner table for most of the night. The way he licked tiramisu off that dessert spoon made her think of other things he could do with his tongue. To be the focus of that intense gaze was enough to melt her into a puddle. It didn’t help that every so often his gaze would slip from her eyes and flicker down to her breasts. And traitorous body that she had, her nipples would immediately pebble.
She hadn’t figured out how to get him back yet, but she would. And she’d make him pay. She bit back a laugh as she imagined herself from the ten-thousand-foot view. Was this really her? Sexy and fun and free. Not worrying about what was next, what would happen tomorrow? She liked the feeling. And it certainly wasn’t her to run around in a short dress with no panties on. There was something about him that dared her to be bold.
Maybe this was only for a few days, but she’d at least take part of that with her. A slice of pain stabbed her heart and she shook it off. She wasn’t going to think about it. She could enjoy this time and let it go. It was the best thing for her. Because getting involved with Tristan was sure to get her hurt. And she so wasn’t down for that. He was also the best kind if distraction. But she had to keep her eyes on the prize, she had a job to do. Xia was depending on her.
“A penny for your thoughts?” he asked. His voice was soft, coaxing. As if he knew what she was thinking about and wanted to lighten her dark mood.
“Oh, I’m just thinking about how to repay you for the little stunt at the hotel.”
His sexy grin was back in a flash and he leaned forward. “Who knew you were so impatient and hot for my body?”
She considered tossing her wine in his face, but that would be a waste of perfectly good wine. Of course, if he was naked, she could sip it off the grooves of his abs. Focus, Syn. Operation payback is in full effect. “Who said anything about impatient? I can wait.” She licked her lips slowly and deliberately, and then dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ve just been dying to taste you and I hoped I’d get the chance, but you cut us off before I could even find out. I was really disappointed.”
His eyes darkened to navy and he called the waiter over. “Check please.” He turned his attention to her. “We’re going back to the hotel. We can skip the concert.”
“But I really wanted to go. I love Coco’s music.”
Tristan ran his hands through his hair. “You’re killing me, Syn.”
“What was that I said about payback?”
The waiter brought the check and Tristan paid it without even looking at it. Bliss would be footing the bill anyway, but Synthia still wondered what that would be like. To not even look at the cost of something and get it just because she wanted it.
With her current job, things were easier and she’d certainly breathe a sigh of relief once Xia was out of school. But truth be told, she’d always worry about money. At this point it was a habit.
Tristan quirked his brow as he stood. “You ready?”
She stood smoothly and gave him a beatific smile. “Oh, I’m ready all right.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “You really mean to pay me back?”
“You better believe it.”
Tristan watched her like a caged animal and she bit the inside of her mouth to keep from smirking. He’d taken up post on the opposite side of the limo and she tried desperately not to flash him. How in the world did these starlets do it? As they pulled away from the restaurant, Tristan continued to watch her intently. She tried using his words against him. “Penny for your thoughts, Tristan?”
“You know what my thoughts are. And they include not leaving the hotel from the time we get back tonight until the flight on Monday.”
“Promises, promises.”
That muscle in his jaw ticked again and he turned his attention to look outside the window.
She tugged at the short skirt of her dress again. If she wanted to do this, then she’d better get to it. They only had thirty minutes to the show, and the limousine would arrive shortly. Syn pressed the intercom on her right. “Hey, Jake, do you think you could take the long way?”
Their driver answered in the affirmative.
She shifted herself forward and pushed so she could lean over him. This had never been her. She enjoyed sex as much as the next girl, but she’d never taken control before.
She kissed Tristan’s lips softly and he immediately wove his hands into her hair. If she let him, he’d take over and that wasn’t what she wanted...yet. She pulled back and he let out a frustrated groan. That was until she slipped his belt loop from his buckle.
Tristan snapped a hand around her wrist. “Syn...” It was part question, part plea. She ignored his staying hand and pulled down the zipper of his pin-striped pants, all the while not taking her gaze off his. “Yes, Tristan?”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, you know, something I’ve been curious about for a while now.” She slid a hand inside his pants, and his lids fluttered closed with a groan.
When she released the full, hard length of him from his boxers, she rubbed the smooth tip with her thumb. A faint drop of moisture escaped the head and he hissed, his hips bucking upward. “Oh, Syn.” Again, there was that hint of pleading.
When she wrapped her lips around him, he cursed and dug his hands into her hair. At first she wasn’t sure if he was holding her in place or if he was pulling her off, but she didn’t release him.
As she sucked him deep into her mouth, her hand slid down his shaft in a steady pace.
His skin was soft and hot and with every lick and slide, he coupled whispers of her name with dirty words of what he wanted her to do and how tight he wanted her grip, directing her. She was a more than capable student. She wanted him, wanted this. If she was going to walk away from this, she wanted everything with him for this slice of time.
His hand twitched and he held her still. She frowned and licked up the thick length of him again.
“Damn, it, Syn, if you don’t stop, I’m going to—”
She ran her tongue over the tip again. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Oh gosh.” He eased his grip on her hair and Syn continued her exploration, bringing him to the brink again. This time, when his strong fingers knotted and tugged on her tresses, they guided the pace. And when he came, he murmured the word “Mine.”
* * *
The music from the concert blared and Tristan tried to figure out how in the world he could have been so stupid. Two days with her and he was attached. He had one day left with Syn and he sure as hell didn’t want to give her up. After what she’d just done to him in the limo, there was no way he’d ever be able to look at her and not think about her mouth on him. About the way she used her tongue to tease. About how open she’d been with him all weekend. That was the Syn he would see forever. That was the Syn he wanted to see. The one who was happy and smiling and teasing. This version of her made him laugh. Okay, sure, she still drove him insane, but in a completely different way. To go back to what they used to be wouldn’t work. He didn’t want to let her go. And that irritated him. This was supposed to be fun and no strings, and now he was adding strings? Come on, keep it together.
They had a private viewing box for the show. It was designed for a small group of six or so, but as it was, with just them, it seemed like a private concert. In the other viewing boxes, couples and friends and groups all danced and partied.
Syn laughed as she danced and Tristan wanted to remember her like this. With her head tossed back and a grin on her face and freedom in her eyes.
She moved against him and he fell into the beat behind her. Wrapping his arms around her, he held on tight. As she danced, the dr
ess slipped up and she tugged it back down. Every time another bare inch of thigh was revealed, he prayed for more, and then she’d just calmly pull it back down again.
Their waitress brought them a bottle of champagne. He tipped her well and asked for privacy. If he only had another twenty-four hours or so with Syn, he wanted privacy, and a lot of it. The way the viewing boxes were set up, there were ten on each side of the stage. Five stacked on top of another five. And each box had a small sitting area and a balcony. The stone railings came up to chest height on all sides.
While the DJ thumped a heavy hip-hop-infused pop beat, they danced and Tristan slid his fingertips just under Syn’s skirt. She paid him no attention, just continued moving to the beat.
He brushed her thick hair off the nape of her neck and kissed her softly. “I want to touch you.”
“I want to be touched. I wore this dress for a reason.”
In that moment, he realized that she played the game better than he did. She’d been weaving a web of seduction around him all night, slowly driving him mad. Now he was so desperate for her he might burst.
Tristan slid his fingers up her satiny inner thigh until he reached the apex of her thighs and the silken heat between.
When he slid a finger inside her, she grabbed the ledge. Down below, Coco belted out her latest hit and thousands of people danced and sang along. All the while, he slowly penetrated Syn, teasing her slick opening. Tormented himself.
She reached behind her and tugged on his belt. Knowing what she wanted, what she needed, what they both craved, he yanked his wallet out and grabbed a condom. With several swift movements, she had his erection out of his pants and he sheathed himself in seconds.
Syn held on to the railing and shifted her stance to make room for him between her thighs.
Tristan grazed his teeth against the nape of her neck. “What are you doing to me?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
And while Coco sang “I’m Yours” he drove into Syn. The sharp bite of ecstasy was quick to take hold. Would it always be like this with her? Would he keep wanting her this bad as if he’d never had her? With each slide home and retreat, he marked her as his. With the crescendo of the music and the thump of the bass, he took her and she took him until he didn’t know where she ended and he began.
Chapter 11
Synthia woke up with Tristan’s hand over her heart. For several long moments she just let herself enjoy being in his arms. As if maybe in an alternative universe she could just wake up like this and everything would be okay. And she could be happy and not have to do everything alone.
Tristan kissed her shoulder. “I don’t want to wake up. Let’s stay here and pretend we don’t have to go back.” Playing with a lock of her hair, he added, “I’m going to miss the Vegas cocoon.”
Thread by thread the fantasy began to unravel. Icy dread mixed with frosty admonishment crawled up her spine. Vegas cocoon. You knew better than to get attached to him. She’d known this was temporary, but over the past couple of days she’d thought—well, never mind what she thought. “I need to start getting ready,” she murmured. This was Tristan and this was a fling. Outside of this, they didn’t work. They were too different. This only worked now because it was in a suspended reality.
She shifted, but he only held her tighter. “No,” he whispered. “Not yet.” The unspoken words between them hung in the air.
Her heart squeezed. She’d let herself get too close. “Tristan...” She let her voice trail.
He nuzzled her neck. “Yeah, Syn?”
“You sure do hold on tight, don’t you?”
He kissed her neck and he loosened his grip a little. “Didn’t mean to crush you.”
Syn smirked. “If this was the old Tristan, I’m not sure I would believe you.”
“Mostly I just wanted to touch you.” His voice was soft, almost inaudible.
Deep emotion curled around her heart. He’d never told her that before. She wanted to believe him because, she realized, she never wanted to leave. She wanted to be in his arms. Wanted to believe that they could work. Don’t believe the hype, Syn. In bed, they were fantastic. But outside bed, it wouldn’t be possible. They were too different, and believing in that fairy tale could cost her this project.
Never mind the warmth she felt in her heart when she was with him. She wasn’t going to let him hurt her. She couldn’t. It was time to take this experience and lock it into a deep box far away. She wasn’t going to let this affect her. Vegas cocoon. She wasn’t going to let him hurt her.
Syn rolled over and kissed him softly on the lips. “I think it’s time to return to the real world now.”
His gaze searched hers. He frowned but whispered softly, “Okay.”
* * *
This was a mistake. Had been a mistake. He’d been a fool to think this thing with him and Syn would be some casual get-each-other-out-of-their-systems fling. Now it was Monday morning and she’d slid out of bed an hour ago.
And just like that, they were back to normal. As if this had never happened. As if he’d never gotten to see this side of her. She was once again the enemy. Well, he hoped not. Even if this situation was merely temporary, he didn’t want to be on the attack with her. They had to find a way to coexist, didn’t they?
After a cold shower designed to wake his brain up and to cool his libido, he’d dressed quickly and gone looking for Syn. Her usual pencil skirt and blouse combo were back. Paired with some do-me pumps that he hadn’t seen before. Gone was the loose, flowing hair he’d seen since Friday. The characteristic bun was back in place. And the sweet, sexy makeup was gone. Instead she’d gone back to her usual red lips and a cool attitude. “Any chance there’s coffee?” Oh, great, that was the best you could offer.
She whirled to meet his gaze. Her expression was all soft parted lips and surprised wide eyes, as if she hadn’t expected him to be awake so early. He hadn’t had much choice. Once she was out of bed, he hadn’t been able to sleep.
“Good morning. Yeah, um, there’s some coffee. Room service brought it up a few minutes ago.”
Her tone was cordial but distant. His Syn was gone. “Thanks,” he muttered.
She shifted in those killer heels of hers. “I wasn’t sure if we were heading over to the airport together or not. If you’d rather go separately, I can—”
He ground his teeth together and shook his head. “No, together is fine. I’ll grab a to-go cup and we can head out now.”
“No rush. The valet already came to collect our bags.”
Hell. This was almost worse than the dreaded eggshells he’d been hoping to avoid and the battling war gods they’d once been. “For heaven’s sake, Syn, can we talk about this?”
She rolled her shoulders. “Sorry. I know this is awkward. I clearly didn’t think this out. I have no idea how to act around you now.”
Tristan sighed. “Okay, how about we act normally?”
“Well, have you forgotten that normal for us includes shouting and eye sex?”
His dick twitched. Down, boy. “Okay, normal but without the shouting. I don’t want this to be weird and awkward. Maybe we could even try being friends.”
She relaxed her shoulders. “Friends...you say that like it’s easy. We couldn’t manage friends before and now you think that we’ve seen each other naked, it’ll be any easier?”
She did have a point there. “Not exactly, but this overpolite shit is going to kill me. Not to mention it’s a dead giveaway.”
Her eyebrows snapped down. “Pardon me for not knowing the etiquette. This was your idea, remember?”
Tristan sighed. “Yeah, I know, I just—”
There was a knock at the door. Synthia inhaled. “Looks like our car is here.”
Synthia’s stride was as brisk and direct as always a
nd the pencil skirt hugged her ass just right, giving him a spectacular view. He didn’t want it to end like this. Once in the elevator, he turned to her. “Syn, are you okay?”
Her gaze was flat, without any of the fire of before Vegas and missing the heat of the past few days. “Fine. This was the agreement, right? We go back to normal, whatever that is, now. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”
She didn’t meet his gaze. “Look at me.”
She didn’t comply. Instead she kept her eyes glued to the lit floor numbers. The elevator slowed and dinged and the doors opened. Immediately Tristan assumed proper elevator positioning, sliding around next to her and looking straight ahead. Like her, he also held on to the back rail for support. As people filed in they were pressed closer and closer together, their fingertips nearly touching. That span of an inch separating his index finger from hers might as well have been the Grand Canyon. The tension twirled around them, thickening and swirling. On the first-floor pool deck everyone filed out, leaving the two of them alone. Tristan stared down at their fingertips. She met his gaze. Her almond-shaped dark eyes blinking up at him. The decision was already made for him. If this was the way they were going to be with each other, he wanted one more taste before he had to let her go.
When he wound his arms around her waist, her eyes rounded in shock. “Tristan—”
He didn’t let her finish the thought; instead he kissed her. The spark that flared between them flickered and his blood rushed. Her response was instant. She groaned and slid her hands into his hair. Her tongue glided against his and he shuddered.
Tristan pulled the pin out of her hair, moaning as her heavy tresses fell over his fingertips. Synthia melded her body to his, arching into his caress.
When the elevator dinged again, she staggered back. He reached for her, but she stepped just out of range. Her chin tilted up and just like that, the mask was back. When she stalked out at the next floor, he didn’t stop her.
Chapter 12
Ten days, twelve hours and twenty-two minutes since she’d returned from Vegas and Synthia still hadn’t recovered from the storm that was Tristan Dawson. She couldn’t turn around in the office without seeing him, and forget about sleeping because every time she closed her eyes, there he was, taunting her.
