by Pratt, Lulu
The way he looked at me was enough to bring me to climax, and remembering the intensity of his gaze was all I needed. Rolling onto my belly, I shoved a pillow between my legs, pressing down on my palm as my finger reached further.
Tapping along the lines of my g-spot, I heard myself cry out, calling a name that felt familiar. Although we’d just met, I wanted to cry his name, wanted Tristan to hear my pleasure.
My body rocked back and forth, thrusting against the pressure as my bud swelled with satisfaction. The erotic tension of our time together had carried over through the night, where Tristan invaded my dreams, to this mid-morning masturbation session.
Always commanding, I visualized him dominating me as I closed my eyes to focus. Pressing against the palm of my hand, I drove myself over the edge, slowing before I tipped over.
“Not yet,” I heard Tristan’s voice in my mind, certain I could not release until he allowed it.
Another moan. It was too good to bring to an ending. I wanted it to drag on as long as the morning allowed. Sliding a second finger inside, my body stretched to accommodate as my hips rocked forward, maintain a dreadfully slow rhythm.
“Yes,” I moaned as the pleasure built again. Waves of ecstasy crashed in my chest, a lightness rolling over me as my free hand found my breast, twirling at my hardened nipple. It was a sensory overload, one my body was thrilled to experience.
Working in unison, I brought myself back to the edge, clenching my eyes shut to remember every detail of his handsome face.
“Come for me, Ingrid,” he growled, and my body exploded with a euphoric release of tension I didn’t realize I’d been harboring.
“Ahh!” I cried as my legs rattled uncontrollably. The well-deserved climax left me panting as my mind returned to sane thoughts.
What in the world was I doing? Fantasizing about the doctor at the hospital? This was a part of some melodramatic sitcom, not my life. There was no way I was going to allow myself to fall for him.
Yet I’d been intrigued from the second he told me he didn’t do the ‘whole relationship thing,’ his eyes assuring me he was telling the truth. In fact, I doubted Tristan was the type of man to lie. He had no reason to. Impressing anyone was beneath him.
The longer I sat with it, the more my curiosity grew, wondering about the reason he was so against relationships. He probably had so many women fawning over him he couldn’t choose one. I could tell from the way he brushed the waitress off, he was used to women coming onto him.
Or maybe it was his career. It was no secret how committed he was. Who has a wall of trophies in their office? I didn’t even know doctors got trophies.
A small chuckle shook my shoulders as I imagined him correcting me, offended I’d referred to his prestigious awards as trophies. He’d probably make a quip about how he wasn’t some jock, but the smartest man on the west coast, or some other accolade he regularly recited.
Just then, my cell phone rang loudly, jolting me back to the present. An unknown number appeared on the screen.
“Hello?” I answered, rolling out of bed.
“Hi, is this Ingrid Stone?” a soft voice responded.
“Yes, this is she.” I perked with interest, trying to place the unfamiliar voice.
“Hi, this is Natalie. I’m the head hostess at Sins Lee. I was told you needed a table for this evening,” she spoke like she was reading from a script, very robotic.
Sins Lee was the new hottest restaurant in the city. Everyone wanted a table, and reservations booked up months in advance. I’d done the marketing for their grand opening party, because every business in LA had to have a killer party to announce their arrival. The owner loved the turnout. I even had a few celebrities stop in for a drink. He’d assured me there would always be a table for me, but I had doubted I’d ever be able to take him up on it.
It was also the kind of restaurant that didn’t even have prices on the menu. Hell, they didn’t even have a set menu. The Italian chef would pick the freshest ingredients from local farms and create unique dishes that changed nightly.
“Oh, yes. Is that possible?” I bit my bottom lip, bracing for the disappointment.
From my friends who had been, I’d heard how fabulous it was. Though a friend in PR warned me never to go if it wasn’t on the company, because the bill for her dinner for three had a comma in it.
The small marketing firm I worked for would never approve such an extravagant dinner, no matter who the client was. In fact, I was usually on the opposite end of wining and dining. People wanted my services and expertise, so I rarely found myself courting clients.
“Here we are,” the woman’s voice silenced my thoughts. “I can get you in at eight-fifteen. Is that okay?”
“Um, yeah… That should do,” I answered, unsure if that would work for Tristan. We hadn’t discussed a time, and I wasn’t sure what time he would leave the hospital.
After confirming the reservation and giving my details, I texted Tristan asking if he would be available at eight-fifteen that evening. Within seconds, he called.
“Hello?” I stood from the bed, twirling my hair around my index finger.
“Ingrid?” His voice was much smoother over the phone.
“Hey, I got a reservation at Sins Lee. It’s a–” I began.
“I love Sins Lee,” he said casually.
“You’ve been?” I failed to hide the shock in my tone. I didn’t take Tristan for the swanky restaurant type.
“Once or twice,” he was probably smirking, the thought of his lips made my stomach tighten.
“Do you want to go again?” I asked, pacing around the room.
How was I so nervous when he wasn’t even there? I hadn’t been so intimidated in person. But back then, I hadn’t brought myself to climax from the mere thought of him.
“It’ll be fun. Send me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. They’re really picky about arriving on time.”
“Okay, but when I text you, you don’t have to call back,” I teased. Talking on the phone was so old school, but my heart was racing from the intimacy of it.
“Ingrid, this two-minute conversation would have been a half hour of texting back and forth. I like to get to the point.”
I swallowed slowly, angered by how aroused I was at his boldness. “Is that so?” I asked, my words dripping with seduction.
“It is. See you in a few hours,” he answered bluntly, ending the call before I could say goodbye. Falling back to the bed, my heart raced with excitement, counting down the minutes until he picked me up.
Chapter 12
TRISTAN
THE NURSES’ WHISPERS were far too loud if they hoped to go undetected. As I walked through the halls of the hospital, it was clear I had never gone straight from work to a formal event. When I instructed my assistant to have my favorite Tom Ford tailored suit delivered to the office, the look of shock on her face let me know I didn’t get out enough.
Now, the stares from my subordinates only emphasized the notion as they stared, gawking like middle-school girls.
“Tristan! You’re looking good. Where are you headed?” Robert greeted me at the end of the hall. I was grateful for a distraction from the stares as I extended my hand to shake his.
“Going to that fancy restaurant Ingrid mentioned,” I heard myself whisper her name as I leaned in, worried colleagues would hear me. I didn’t need their gossip spreading like wildfire, thinking there was more to this than there was.
“Another date?” Robert’s voice was annoyingly optimistic.
“It’s not a date. This is where she wanted to go the first time, so I’m taking her,” I reasoned.
It was the same excuse I’d been giving myself since asking Ingrid if she could get the reservation. She said she wanted to go to a restaurant she couldn’t afford, and I was going to give her that experience she would never give herself.
Forget how much I’d been thinking about her, or the countless times I’d glanced at my watch throughout
the afternoon, counting down the hours until I could be on my way to see her. This was nothing more than me fulfilling a commitment, one I’d never intended on coming to fruition.
Ingrid was a beautiful girl. One I didn’t mind spending time with. But there was no way anything would come of our nights together. She was all about having a good time, enjoying the city of angels, while I was more interested in saving the angels who passed through the hospital. She couldn’t understand my world, and that was okay. We had different lives that could never merge.
“Well, I thought you two had already gone out once.” Robert’s tone was accusatory at best.
Pretending not to notice the group of staring nurses behind the reception desk, I turned my back, hoping for privacy. It was a strange request in such a close-knit community as our hospital, but the last thing I wanted was to pour gas on the flame.
“The type of places Ingrid likes to go to require time and a reservation,” I heard myself defending her, and the sound of my own voice felt like an alarm.
What was I hiding that I felt the need to make things appear to be something that they weren’t? I couldn’t help but to question my intentions. Did I want more from the meeting? I’d assured myself I didn’t before Robert’s question jolted me from my thoughts.
“Of course. Well, I’m sure you’ll have a great night. You look great. Enjoy yourself, Tristan. You deserve it,” he emphasized the last sentence as though I really needed to listen.
He’d been stressing the need for balance since he joined the staff. I wasn’t one to listen to such nonsense, instead choosing to focus solely on my profession. But Robert had a theory about how a family or social life made you a better surgeon. I still wasn’t sold.
“Have a good night,” I told him before heading out the door.
The night air was cooler than usual, and I welcomed the change in temperature. Los Angeles was too warm for my liking. Much like a mediocre employee, there was nothing spectacular about LA weather. It was never too hot or too warm. Often, I found myself missing the extreme summer and winter temperatures of Baltimore.
Driving through the city, my desire shifted. There were views LA offered that the east coast could never give you. From the winding hills to the breathtaking ocean views, it was a city that deserved the recognition, despite my fight to hand it over.
When the GPS alerted me of my arrival, I glanced around the quiet street, impressed. I’d expected Ingrid to live in more of a party neighborhood, renting an apartment or owning a luxury condo. Instead, she had a townhouse on a quiet street, away from the frat houses I’d anticipated.
After a brief pause, I walked to her door, ringing the doorbell after a deep breath. It didn’t take long for her to open the door, leaving me speechless.
Dressed in a figure-fitting black gown, Ingrid looked three inches taller. A high split exposed her thigh, and the dress accentuated every curve I’d missed on our first meal together. She was stunning, more than I’d expected.
“It’s too much?” She scrunched her nose nervously as she turned to welcome me inside.
“No, you look great.” I shocked myself with the casual tone of my voice.
Inside, I was anything but, wondering if Robert’s accusations were true. From the way I felt, I wondered if I did want more than I’d led on.
More than beautiful, Ingrid was sexy. Her body called to me, peeking through every opportunity as I took in her full breasts tantalizing me with the low neckline of her elegant dress.
Turning away from me, she slowly walked to the kitchen, offering me a glass of wine, which I declined. I didn’t need anything altering my judgment, because in that moment I wanted to take her without question.
I could see from the lust in her eyes that she wanted me, but it was wrong. She may not have been my subordinate, but Ingrid was far from my equal at the hospital. I would not question my integrity for anything, even if it was dressed in the finest threads.
“You look nice,” she grinned as she walked to me, holding a small, black, sequined purse.
“As do you,” I nodded, grateful she couldn’t see my smirk grow into a smile as I followed her out of her small house.
“Did you get lost?” she asked without turning around. “I know it can be hard to find me from Melrose.”
I hated how unaffected she was by me. Any other woman would have been blown away for me to show up at their place in a tux. As I thought of it, I realized it was a scenario that had never happened. It was a first. One she didn’t care about, opening her front door without a care in the world.
“No, I found it without issue,” I assured her.
“Without issue?” She finally glanced over her shoulder. “You’re such a professional, Tristan,” she smiled.
The night was cool and dark. Ingrid’s street was lined with street lights, and it appeared every house on the block had their front porch light on. I was impressed by her community. It was more than I’d expected for her.
“Is that a bad thing?” I countered.
“Not if you can turn it off.”
“Do you think I can’t?” I wondered aloud as we walked down the few steps to my car.
Ingrid stopped, turning around to stop me in my tracks. Her full lips pierced together as her bright blue eyes scanned my body. Starting from the top of my head, she glanced down to my feet and then back to my eyes before she came to her conclusion.
“Only time will tell,” she finally answered, turning on her heels before continuing to the car.
Chapter 13
INGRID
STARING ACROSS the center console of his expensive sports car, I was a bit taken aback by Tristan. After our meal together, and the subsequent daydreams that followed, I thought there was no way he could be more handsome. But now, dressed in what was undoubtedly a tailor-made suit, I pressed my knees together to contain my desire.
Even more striking, he drove casually, his jaw relaxed as he made his way through the lit streets of the city. Memorizing the details of his profile, I was lost in the curve of his chin when he turned, looking at me with deep curiosity.
“What are you thinking about?” he wondered aloud.
My instinct was to lie, but that just didn’t feel right with Tristan. Besides, I wanted the answer to the question lingering in my head, and he was the only one who could give it to me.
“Why are you so anti-relationship?” I rushed the words before I could stop myself.
“What?” he huffed, quickly stealing another glance at me before returning his attention to the road.
“Last night, you told me you don’t do relationships… Like, it was a rule or something. I want to know why that is,” I explained.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” he said. This time he did not turn to look at me.
“Did you get your heart broken?”
“No,” he frowned.
“Did you break someone’s heart?” I pushed on.
“No, Ingrid,” he smirked, keeping his eyes on the road.
“I know how guys can be – making monogamy as difficult as surgery,” I said, watching his smile spread as he stopped at a traffic light, turning to give me his full attention.
He didn’t look like a relationship type of man. Tristan had an elusive characteristic about him that was intriguing at best, and I would guess addicting at worst. Every question that typically had a short answer was a key for him, opening a new side that I wanted to know more about.
He wasn’t shutting down my line of questioning, and for me that was as good as encouragement. When his thick lips split, I perked with attention, hanging on to every syllable.
“I have never cheated on anyone,” he finally answered.
Now I wondered if he was the one lying. There was no way a man as good looking and successful as him could not have a wandering eye. My ex-boyfriend wasn’t half the man, and yet he found it impossible to be faithful. Tristan smiled, watching my reaction, which only made me doubt him further.
“
Are you lying to me?”
“Ingrid, I have no reason to lie to you.” His smile was gone.
The light changed and again his attention returned to the road as he turned down the street I knew we were heading to. With only a few minutes left in the car, I refused to leave without a complete answer.
“So, you’re telling me not one of your ex-girlfriends have a horror story about your wandering eye?” I narrowed my eyes, ready to detect any deception.
“I’ve never had a girlfriend,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow.
It was like how my father used to smile when he’d tricked me, proud when I finally discovered the game he was playing. Tristan was only going to give me as much information as I specifically requested. Digging with him had to be precise and intentional.
“So, you’ve been anti-relationship your whole life?”
“I guess you could say that,” he shrugged.
He was not understanding how bizarre this was to me, that much I could detect. He was far too nonchalant for what he revealed. Sure, he was a busy man with a flourishing career, but everyone had time for a relationship, so I wasn’t accepting that as an excuse.
“It can’t have anything to do with your work. I know plenty of surgeons who are happily married, and you must have had a little free time in undergrad,” I said, thinking aloud more than I was continuing my interrogation.
“I never said it had anything to do with work,” he corrected me with a tilt of his head. He was reminding me of the unspoken rules. I had to ask the right question, however bold it was, if I wanted a straight answer.
“What made you not want to be in a relationship, Tristan?”
I knew I had asked the right question when he turned to me with disappointment. It was clear he’d hoped I wouldn’t find the courage or words to ask about his rule specifically.
“Why do you always ask such deep questions when we’re in the car?” He scrunched his eyebrows together as we waited to turn into the circular driveway of the restaurant.
