Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)

by Lilley, R. K.

  “Thank you. You saved my life. I’ve never had a hangover like that before.”

  “Let’s hope you never do again, either. How many drinks did you have last night?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied honestly. “But don’t get all preachy about it with me. I got bored when you left to hook up with what’s her name. I was just passing the time.”

  “Hook up with what’s her name? What are you talking about? I didn’t hook up with anyone. I spent half the night looking for you. Where did you disappear to, by the way?”

  I glared at him. “I went and danced with Jared, and when we came back, you’d disappeared.”

  His brows drew together and his eyes were stormy as he replied, “I disappeared looking for you.”

  I studied his face, looking for a lie, but strange as it was, I believed him, and it scared me how relieved I was that he hadn’t been hooking up. If I was this relieved that he hadn’t, just how hurt would I be when he finally did? I knew it was coming. He’d given me more than fair warning.

  “I have an idea,” he said, moving around the kitchen counter, and into the dining room.

  He opened up a drawer of the desk that ran along the far wall.

  “That sounds ominous,” I said, following him.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you like the last guy that you slept with?” Tristan asked me with an arched brow and a crooked smile, flashing those dimples at me. He used those things like a weapon.

  “My ex? Negative five, since I’m feeling mellow right now,” I said instantly.

  He nodded. “Exactly. The last girl I hooked up with threw a drink at another chick for smiling at me, and the one before that started nagging me about my drinking after we’d hooked up one time. Sex turns women into nagging psychos, and it turns men into straight-up assholes. Now, how much do you like me?”

  I wrinkled my nose at him. “Right this second? Well, this little speech is kind of annoying but I do kind of like you most of the time. I’ll give you a solid five.”

  He just grinned, not at all offended. I don’t think he would have known what to do with me if I wasn’t giving him shit. “Well, I give you a ten, which averages our friendship out to a solid seven, making you one of my favorite people of all time. I’d like to maintain our average, so I say we make a list.”

  He had actually gotten a pen and paper out, and I made sure he saw me roll my eyes.

  His grin just widened. “That’s what I love most about you. I never have to wonder what you’re thinking. It’s all right there on your lovely face.”

  My scowl just deepened as I saw what he was writing.

  ‘THE FRIENDS DON’T LIST’ –

  Because I like you too much to sleep with you

  I sighed loudly. “What is the point of this? We don’t need to write it down.”

  He straightened, giving me a look that made things low in my body clench in the most delicious way. His gaze was borderline obscene as he eyed me, top to bottom.

  He swallowed hard. “I need to. God, Danika, even your feet are fucking sexy to me, and I like you too fucking much to screw it up. I want to be around you. I’d be sad if you we didn’t see each other anymore, and I’m batting zero at the relationship thing. I’m a good friend, though, so yeah, I need a real clear ‘don’t’ list, so I don’t screw it up.”

  I smirked at him. “My feet, huh? My feet are really that sexy? You crazy horn-dog.”

  I didn’t want a relationship with him, either. I knew that it would mean the end of us as friends, but knowing that he found me that sexy made me warm all over. It didn’t make me feel dirty to have him look at me like that, it made me feel special. It was a novelty for me, to be sure.

  He laughed and nodded, giving me really good eye contact. “Yes. It’s a problem. I’m a man-whore, and you would tempt a saint. Let’s find a way to keep our friendship safe.”

  I liked that, liked that he valued my company more than my body. I nodded, finally giving him smile for smile. “Yes. That makes sense. Sex isn’t worth it anyway. It never leaves me with anything but a need for a date with my vibrator, and that’s if I’m lucky.”

  He groaned and slapped his forehead. “I need to get that image out of my head. That was cruel. Do you mean that your last boyfriend didn’t make sure you got off?” He asked the question like he just couldn’t help himself. I knew him well enough to know that he couldn’t.

  I laughed, trying not to make it sound as bitter as it actually was. “No. I’m saying that none of them did. They couldn’t find a clit with a map. Selfish pricks.”

  He ran a hand over his face, and it went a little slack before he looked at me again. “That hurts me deep in my soul, Danika. I wouldn’t do that to you. I’d make sure you came, first and last. I’d go down on you every time, if that’s what you like. I’d lick—“

  I held up a hand, giving him an arch look, though I was far from unaffected by his little speech. I wanted badly to see if he was really that good, but I shook myself out of it.

  He grimaced. “Sorry, sorry. That was out of line. You can’t tell me stuff like that. It makes me want to punch somebody and, well, do things to you that do not need to be spoken out loud. But it does prove my point about me needing a ‘don’t’ list.”

  I nodded. It was becoming apparent that we both needed one. “Yes. Don’t you worry about poor old me. I like my vibrator just fine. Better than any cock that’s ever come near me, in fact.”

  He closed his eyes, lowered his head, and held up one finger as though he needed a moment.

  I giggled, because I had been trying to torment him, and I saw by the oversized bulge in his jeans that I’d succeeded.

  I snapped my fingers at him. “Okay, okay, let’s get on with it. Get started with your list.”

  1. No sex, no making out, no kissing.

  “No getting off and thinking about you?” I asked. Yes, I was trying to torment him.

  He held up that finger that made me giggle again. He looked like he was thinking hard for a long moment, finally shaking his head. “Nope. Can’t do that. Sorry. It’s like saying I won’t get hard when I see you wearing a bikini. It would just be a lie. But I won’t torture you with the details, I swear.”

  I nodded, still smiling. Teasing just never got old with him. He made it so much fun. He made absolutely everything fun. “The same,” I told him. “I’ll try not to be too loud when I cry out your name as I get myself off.”

  He shook his head, looking pained. “So jacked up,” he muttered under his breath.

  After a long pause, he started writing again without another word.

  2. No getting jealous or complaining about who the other one is dating or hooking up with.

  “That goes for you too, right?” I asked archly. “No hitting guys in bars for looking at me funny.”

  “I didn’t hit him. I just choked him a little.”

  “Um, yeah, that sounds worse than punching. Not helping your argument.”

  He completely ignored that, writing.

  3. We can hang out whenever we want, but we won’t call it a date, even if we’re doing date-like things

  “Would oral be considered date-like?” I asked, just messing with him, as usual. I’d never been able to have sexual banter with a man that didn’t end up making me feel like shit. It was just the opposite with Tristan. For some reason, it made me feel warm and fuzzy every time.

  He sent me a twisted grin. “I’m pretty sure that would be breaking the no kissing rule.”

  “Pretty sure leaves wiggle room.”

  He gave me a look that could only be described as longing. “I do love the way you wiggle.”

  I giggled.

  He went back to writing.

  4. No nagging.

  “That counts for you, too. No telling me when I’ve had too many shots. That’s for me to decide.”

  He sent me an exasperated look. “Well, if you drink enough shots that you climb on the bar to dance, and some guy grabs you,
don’t nag me for beating the shit out of him.”

  “That sounds like a clear violation of rule number,” I pointed out.

  “That’s not jealousy. That’s me being protective of my buddy.”

  I rolled my eyes. It was a fine line.

  He started writing again.

  5. Always remember that we like each other too much to sleep together, and that sleeping together will ruin EVERYTHING.

  6. If the words ‘I love you’ are ever mentioned, it will be assumed that it is in a friendship type context.

  7. No talking dirty, or talking about dates with your vibrator.

  He sighed, immediately crossing #7 out.

  7. No talking dirty, or talking about dates with your vibrator.

  “That one is just no fun at all,” he explained.

  I giggled. Only Tristan could make me giggle.

  He sent me a warm smile.

  “I named my vibrator after you,” I told him with a smirk. “He’s small, but he makes up for it by working hard.”

  He straightened, moving a little close to show me just how small he wasn’t. I backed up to the edge of the table, and he followed.

  He gave me his sinful smile. “I’m big like this everywhere. Don’t make me prove it to you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Every guy says that. It would be refreshing to meet a guy that just admitted to being average-sized, or God forbid, small.”

  He shook his head. “You want me to do something crazy. I see your game now. Not falling for it.”

  I couldn’t hold back a smile, because I had been egging him on. The man was so outrageous, he’d do anything on a dare. I shrugged. “I’ll never know, but in my imagination it’s very clearly average, bordering on small. No way to change it.”

  He pursed his lips, his fingers going to the button on his jeans.

  I slapped my hands over my eyes, running away and giggling like a kid.

  He overtook me in seconds, picking me up easily. He flung me over his shoulder, heading to the back door.

  I knew where this was leading.

  “Put me down!” I screeched between giggles. “I just washed my hair!”

  “Every time you make me want to pull my dick out for you, for any reason, I’m throwing you in the pool. This is for the sake of our friendship, Danika.”

  I was already flying through the air before he’d finished talking. I heard him say Danika right before my head went under.

  The bastard.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  As though putting it in writing had somehow aggravated the situation, the sexual tension between us only seemed to get worse. Still, no one could say that we didn’t try our best to stick to that stupid list.

  I found myself at his mother’s house for dinner the next day, which I found strange, and a little surreal, but he was persistent enough to talk me into just about anything.

  She lived about forty-five minutes away, in one of the more rundown neighborhoods just east of the strip. Her house was big, but in rough shape at a glance, with huge chunks missing from the stucco, a disaster of a lawn, and two cars parked in the driveway that were missing tires.

  I shot Tristan a glance. “She has two full-grown sons. Why don’t you guys help her fix up the place?”

  He’d been about to get out of the car, but he paused at that. His brow furrowed. “It’s complicated. I’ve tried before, but her boyfriend takes it as an insult if someone else tries to make repairs to her house, even though he’ll never do it himself.”

  “He sounds like a winner,” I muttered, not quite under my breath.

  As always, I was gratified to hear him laugh. My lips turned up in a happy smile. Not everyone could appreciate my brand of sarcasm, and I relished the fact that Tristan seemed to find it endlessly entertaining.

  “He’s…difficult, but I try not to make any waves. I learned a long time ago not to get between my mom and one of her boyfriends.”

  I thought that was telling, and I sent him a sympathetic look as we made our way to the house.

  “I can relate to that,” I told him quietly. “My mom once tried to kick me out of the house because I told one of her boyfriends that he wasn’t my dad.” I swallowed, finding it hard to tell him the story, for some strange reason. It wasn’t as though it was a sensitive subject for me. “I was eight at the time.”

  He stopped and grabbed my hand, a world of understanding in his eyes. “I see more and more why we took to each other so quickly. We’ve been through a lot of the same things. It’s…nice to have someone that just understands.”

  I squeezed his hand, losing myself a little in his golden eyes. “It is nice.”

  It felt like we shared a moment of perfect understanding, but it was short lived, as the front door opened, Jared poking his smiling face out.

  “Hey!” he called out. “The food is ready. Good timing. Get in here.” He popped his head back inside, rather reminding me of Ivan for a moment.

  I liked Jared, but I didn’t quite get him. He could be like a carefree kid at times, and almost too intense at others. I felt like I was missing some piece of the puzzle where he was concerned. He was so much easier than Tristan, in ways, but he worried me more, though I couldn’t have said just why. One thing was certain; neither men were a puzzle that I expected to solve any time soon.

  Tristan let go of my hand, which left me feeling a little bereft. I could admit to myself that I loved it when he held my hand. It made me feel so connected to him, for such a small contact.

  He didn’t leave me like that for long, his hand moving to the small of my back in a light caress that nudged me forward with him. “You’re going to love my mother, but more than that, you’re going to die for her enchiladas.”

  The house we walked into was crowded but colorful, the walls painted brightly, but a little too cramped with furniture and knick-knacks.

  His mother was a surprise to me, for several reasons. She was young, or at least she looked very young. She could have maybe passed for Jared and Tristan’s older sister, rather than their mother. The biggest surprise by far, though, was that she was very obviously Hispanic, with a thick accent. I’d always just thought of the brothers as big white boys.

  “Mama, this is my friend, Danika. Danika, this is my mother, Leticia.” He accented the name in a way I’d never heard him speak before, immediately showing me a touch of his Latin side.

  I blinked, thrown for a bit of a loop.

  Leticia was beautiful. There was a very obvious resemblance between the three of them. Their features all had a similar, striking cast, thought her eyes were black, and her skin was a few shades darker. Her thick black hair fell in heavy waves to her mid-back.

  She gave me a smile, and it was lovely, but I noticed that Tristan must have gotten those dimples of his somewhere else.

  She hugged me like family, kissing me on both cheeks. “So lovely to meet you, Danika. You may call me Mama, if you like. I never get to meet any of the girls Tristan spends time with. You must be special.”

  I caught Tristan shaking his head out of the corner of my eye.

  “I wonder why I never bring any girls here…Really, Mama. Don’t embarrass her.”

  “If she chooses to spend a lot of time with you, I doubt she’s easily embarrassed,” Leticia shot back.

  I thought she had a good point.

  “Dinner’s getting cold,” Jared pointed out from the doorway that led into a divine smelling dining room.

  The table was small, but loaded with food.

  “I’ll do clean up, Mama,” Tristan said, pulling out two chairs from the table, and nodding his mother and I into each, “since I missed helping out on all the prep.”

  “Gracias, mijomiho,” she said, shooting him a very fond smile.

  “Brown-noser,” Jared muttered, from his seat directly opposite of me. I shot him a wry smile for that one. It’s like he’d read my mind.

  Tristan sat to my right, and for some crazy reason, I felt his big hand squeeze
my knee after he sat down. I shot him a rather shocked glare, and he removed it just as quickly as he’d placed it there, his expression completely innocent. If he wanted to play the teasing game, I thought I had a distinct advantage. I wasn’t the one that needed to jack off in the shower five times a day.

  I shook myself out of that distracting thought process as everyone began to dish out the food. Leticia had a heaping serving on my plate before I could tell her it was too much.

  The cheese enchiladas already had my mouth watering when Tristan spooned some black beans and rice onto my plate, and Leticia followed it with scoops of fresh pico de gallo, guacamole, and sour cream. Mother and son were tag-team overfeeding me, and I kind of loved it.

  Leticia blessed the food, and I dug in eagerly. The first bite of the enchiladas had me closing my eyes, and I didn’t even try to stifle my moan of pleasure. Enchiladas were my favorite, and these ones were a perfect combination of…everything. I thought it was the sauce that made it so perfect.

  Tristan’s big hand squeezing my knee again was what it finally took to get me to open my eyes. He was staring at me, and the look in his eyes was downright sinful. I swallowed, my jaw going a little slack with want as the hand on my knee caressed me, moving just a touch higher. I was wearing shorts, so it was skin on skin, and more than a little distracting.

  I quickly snapped out of his little spell, glancing at Leticia and Jared. I was vastly relieved to see that they weren’t paying attention to us, instead digging into their own food with gusto.

  I took another bite, shooting him a glance. He was still rubbing my knee, and for some asinine reason, I wasn’t pushing his hand away. Even more asinine, my left hand moved to cover his under the table, rubbing over his knuckles softly, then harder. I thought about touching him way more than I actually touched him, and so when I did, it always seemed to escalate way too fast. His hand was moving higher, and my own traitorous hand was only encouraging it, kneading his fingers harder into my thigh.