“Tessa?” Tristan tried to get her attention for the third time, finally nudging her arm when she still didn’t answer.

“Huh? Oh.” She glanced at him, still distracted. “Yes?”

“More fish?” He held out a plate of grilled butterfish that Grace had managed to get from Jo in exchange for a case of Mark’s favorite scotch. Given how it melted on the tongue, Tristan didn’t think it was a bad trade. Unlike Mark, who’d grumbled about it for the entire first half of dinner.

“Uh, no. Thanks.” Three words. Well, two words and one sound. That was as much as she’d said during the past thirty minutes. And about twice as much as the first thirty.

Something was wrong, and Tristan had no clue what.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yup. Fine.”

“So…that’s a no?” Tristan smiled at her, the half-curve almost easy now. Tessa’s eyes softened a little at his joke.

“Sorry. Just a little distracted.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“No.” She touched his hand before pulling away. “Well, actually.”

“Yes?”

“I wasn’t going to ask at dinner, didn’t think you guys wanted to talk about business. But there’s something I can’t stop wondering about.”

“What’s that?” Tristan was the one who spoke, but both Mark and Grace were looking at Tessa, too.

Tessa stared at the table, tucking a chunk of hair behind one ear, before looking up at him. “It’s a question about Hurst.”

Tristan’s stomach was suddenly in agreement with Mark. The fish had been an awful idea. “What about it?”

“It’s a pretty large company, right?”

“Very.”

“What sort of business is it?”

Tessa wouldn’t look him straight in the eye. Tristan shifted in his chair, the skin on the back of his neck crawling. He didn’t work for Hurst anymore. He didn’t want to think about his life there. Not at dinner with Mark, and Grace, and Tessa. Not when he finally felt like things were going well for the first time in fucking forever.

“Investment firm, mostly,” Mark jumped in from across the table, saving Tristan from having to answer. “It diversified a few years ago. They have some interest in pharma and tech now, but it is a big financial firm, for the most part.”

“Oh.” Tessa glanced between the two men. “So, no restaurants?”

“No,” Mark confirmed. “No restaurants.”

“Why?” Tristan interjected.

She peeked up at him through her lashes, the soft flush on her cheeks enhanced in the candlelight. “I, uh….” She trailed off, embarrassed.

“Tessa, seriously. What’s up?” Grace finally asked. Tristan caught her worried look and immediately turned back to Tessa. She stabbed her fork into her abandoned fish, shredding it into tiny white flakes. “You’ve been acting funny ever since this afternoon.”

Tessa puffed out a huge breath, catching the strands of hair around her face. “I just don’t know how to ask this without sounding crazy. Or like a stalker.”

“Probably best to just spit it out, then,” her friend replied. “’Cause you’re already skirting crazy territory.”

“Grace.” Mark frowned at her and she gave him a little shrug.

“What? She is,” she muttered before mouthing at Tessa, “You are.”

Tristan watched Tessa stick her tongue out at Grace, her anxiety fading as her friend teased her. When she looked over at him, her eyes had regained some of their spark.

“Okay, I’m just going to come out and ask. Do you know Stephanie Marsh?”

Tristan swallowed before nodding. “Yes.”

“Oh.” And the spark was gone.

“Do you?” He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.

“Yes.”

“How?”

Mark and Grace were silent, watching their exchange with a mix of fascination and confusion.

“She’s one of the owners of The Mill.”

“Ah.” Mark realized what Tessa was saying the same time the pieces came together for Tristan.

“And you worked at—”

“The Mill. Yes. I left there to come here.”

“Tristan?” Mark asked the question just by saying his name. Tristan gripped the table to stop his hand from flying to his neck. Mark knew about his relationship with Stephanie. Not that it was a relationship. It was fucking. Rather, it had been fucking. But there would be no fucking her, or anyone else, for that matter, ever again, if Tristan had his way. Just Tessa.

Tessa, who was watching him with a little furrow knitting her brow. And a sadness darkening those chocolate-brown eyes he loved so much.

Tristan didn’t want to talk about it. Hell, he was still figuring out how to talk about anything, let alone explaining to the woman he was dating about the woman he used to fuck. Which, God help him, had occasionally happened at the one place in the entire world that their paths had apparently crossed. But just because he didn’t want to talk about it didn’t mean he could ignore it.

“Tessa?” He intertwined their fingers. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t squeeze back, either. “Tell me why you asked.”

“I thought I saw you,” she whispered. “I did, didn’t I?”

It would be easy to say no. “Sounds like it’s possible. When do you think it was?”

“Just a few days before I arrived on the island. So, about two days before Mark and Grace left.”

Tristan thought back to his last trip to New York. It seemed like ages ago. In fact, everything before Tessa felt like a lifetime ago. A life he wanted nothing to do with ever again. But she was right. He had been in New York then, and he had seen Stephanie.

“Yes. I was there. With her.”

“Oh. Okay. Good to know.” Tessa pulled her hand from his and dropped her napkin on the table. Looking at Mark and Grace, she said, “Thanks so much for dinner. This was fun. But I think it’s time I head home. Early morning, you know….” Tessa trailed off as she stood up from the table.

“Uh, okay,” Mark said, looking between Tessa and Tristan with an unreadable expression.

“Tessa, wait.” Grace reached out, trying to stop her friend. “You can’t leave yet. What about, uh, dessert?” Grace glanced around the table, looking for help, and everyone just stared back.

“Weak,” Mark muttered under his breath.

“Thanks,” Tessa finally said, sliding her abandoned chair back under the table. “But I get enough of that at work. Goodnight.”

Tristan watched Tessa walk up the path that wrapped around the side of the villa. An unfamiliar mixture of helplessness and uncertainty filled him. Had he fucked up? He didn’t know. He didn’t think so. But what the fuck did he know? He had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t date. He’d never had a relationship with anyone like the one he was developing with Tessa. And if he’d thought he didn’t know what he was doing before, he realized that he was absolutely fucking clueless now. So did Mark and Grace, going by their expressions.

“What are you doing?” Grace prodded. “Go after her.”

“Yeah?” Tristan looked at Mark, who just grinned. Fucker.

“Yeah!” Grace shouted back. “Go!” She jabbed her finger in the direction Tessa had gone. “Talk to her. Explain. Make it better.”

Tristan stood up, his napkin dropping to the ground. “How?”

“Christ, I don’t know.” Grace glared at him like he was the stupidest man on earth. “But you’re related to this guy.” She poked Mark in the chest. “I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”

“Oh, babe,” Mark sassed her with a wide grin. “Is that a compliment?”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, still frowning at Tristan. “Oh my God, what are you still doing here? I’m not drawing you a diagram. GO!”

Tristan blinked a few more times before running after Tessa.

Behind him, he heard Mark murmur, “God, I love it when you’re bossy.”

“Asshole,” Grace answered, her chair scraping against the patio. “And hey, Mark? Make sure you bring that chocolate cake in with you.”

* * *

“Tessa!” Tristan pressed his ear to her apartment door, hoping to hear movement behind it. “Tessa!” He knocked again.

There was a series of small clicks before the door swung open. The sight that greeted him had Tristan’s heart clenching and his dick hardening. Which didn’t really make sense but was an experience he was getting used to around Tessa.

She’d traded her dress for a loose, oversized T-shirt. Her hair was up in a messy knot. And her face was scrubbed clean, the pattern of freckles that crested over her nose begging to be kissed.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She retreated into the apartment and left Tristan to close the door behind him.

Tristan followed Tessa to the sofa, careful to keep some distance until he figured out exactly what was going on.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out as soon as he sat down.

“What? Why?”

“That wasn’t fair of me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Tessa slipped her hands under her legs, pinning them there as she rocked back and forth. She looked so small, so uncertain, and Tristan had an unexpectedly strong urge to haul her onto his lap and keep her there for the rest of the night. But since he didn’t think manhandling her was what Grace meant when she said “fix it,” he settled for placing his hand on the cushion next to her, within easy reach in case she decided she needed something to hold on to.

“Your life before. Of course there’ve been other women. I’m not crazy. I know you’ve had relationships before.”

“Tessa—”

“Just like I’ve been with other men before.”

Tristan’s hand flexed on the sofa. He wasn’t crazy either, but that didn’t mean he liked the idea of Tessa sleeping with anyone other than him.

“I don’t know.” She gave a little shrug, staring into the distance. “Something about you and Stephanie threw me. Hit a little close to home and got me wondering.”

“About?”

“What it would have been like if we’d met in New York. If we would’ve noticed each other. Gone on a date. If it would be a disaster, or if….” Her voice faded, the pinch between her eyes deeper.

Tristan gave up trying to keep still and locked one of her hands in his, giving little tugs until she turned to face him. “Tessa. Stop. There is literally no point thinking about it, because that’s not how it happened. We aren’t in New York. We met here. We did go on a date. Lots of them, actually. And, other than your incredibly fucking stupid decision to go outside in a hurricane, they haven’t been a disaster.”

Tessa smirked, relaxing a little. “Umm, have you forgotten about our first couple of dinners? Or the bread incident?” She tipped her head back, releasing a real laugh. “They were definitely disasters. No question.”

“No,” Tristan answered, his chest tight and warm and pounding a little bit harder than he thought healthy. “Learning experiences. They were learning experiences.”

“Really?” She didn’t look convinced.

“Really.”

“And what, Mr. Hurst, did you learn from those experiences?”

Tristan matched her smile with one of his own, loving how Tessa’s eyes softened as she watched his lips curve. “I’ve learned, Chef Armstrong, that when it comes to you, I don’t stand a chance.”

Tessa’s smile faded. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“What?” Wait, she was happy a second ago. What’s going on? He was so completely confused.

“Tristan,” she sighed. “I think I might have pushed you into something you didn’t actually want.”

“What?!” Okay, now he was getting pissed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Just what you said. You didn’t stand a chance. I decided you needed a friend. And I decided that I wanted to be it. I didn’t ask you. I didn’t even give you a chance to say no. I just pushed and pushed and pushed until you agreed. And, after hearing about Stephanie, well….” She sighed again, all of the fight leaving her. “It made me realize that maybe I barged into somewhere I didn’t belong.”

Tristan threaded his fingers into her hair at the base of her skull, tipping her face up to his. “I really, truly don’t understand what you are trying to say.”

“Jesus,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. She gripped his wrist but didn’t pull away. “Do you remember what you said to me the day before the storm?”

Tristan groaned, not wanting to remember any of the awful things he’d said that afternoon.

“I do,” Tessa continued, not waiting for his answer. “You asked if I thought I could bully you into being my friend. If, let me see if I remember this right, I thought you were a fucking pet that could be trained with fucking treats.”

Tristan winced, hating the words even more when she said them. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“You did,” Tessa said, completely calm. “I mean, you were lashing out. Frustrated, angry, whatever. And maybe you didn’t intend for it to come out as harsh as it did. But you meant it, Tristan. You believed it. You can’t pretend that isn’t true. Because”—her voice dipped, regret and sadness shading it—“you were right. We bullied you. Me, Grace. Even Mark. We decided you needed something that you hadn’t even asked for. Like you were some sort of child, and we knew better.”

Tessa laughed, a hollow echo of the sound that kept him warm in even his darkest dreams.

“The thing that makes it so hard,” she said, forcing herself to continue, “is that it is what I want. So much.” Tessa shifted on the couch, uncomfortable. But she didn’t look away. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. Nothing even close. It’s friendship, yes. I am your friend, Tristan. Always. But it goes way beyond that.”

Tessa rested her face in his palm and Tristan held his breath. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she relaxed into him. “I think about you all the time,” she confessed. “I count down the hours until I know I’m going to see you. And I constantly hope that I’ll catch a glimpse of you sooner. I think about what your favorite foods might be, or what I can bake that will make you smile. Even just a little.”

Tristan shifted closer on the sofa, unable to keep his distance. He needed to feel her, to hold her, to tell her that she didn’t need to say anything else. That he was already hers. That he was starting to realize he always would be.

“I think I understand why you swim out there. I think I’ve understood since the first time I saw you. Whatever made you come to this island, it makes you get in that water. Makes you think about getting as far away as possible and, maybe, never returning. But I watch you, Tristan,” she whispered. “I watch you and I always will, because I need to make sure you come back. Because I don’t think I’ll be able to breathe if you don’t come back.”

Tristan felt something wet touch the tip of his thumb. He sucked in a breath when he realized what it was.

“Tessa.” Her name felt like a prayer. A benediction. And he couldn’t understand how his heart felt full and joyous even though he was sure that hers, in that second, was cracking.

“I think of you as mine, Tristan. Mine.” Her voice wobbled. “Like there’s never been any room for argument or doubt. Like there was no chance that any other person, any other woman, could claim you. And I guess I just realized that maybe I was wrong. That, if given the chance, you’d want something else. Someone else. And I think,” she whispered, “I think it broke my heart. Just a little.”

Tristan’s brain was a mess of words and emotions and secret hopes and he didn’t have a clue where to start. He’d spent so long not saying a word to anyone. Not about anything important. So he didn’t know how to convince the woman in front of him that she was right. He was hers. From the top of his thick skull to the bottom of his trigger-happy feet, he was, without any question, Tessa’s.

Tristan didn’t have the words. But there was another way to convince her.

“Come.” He stood and tried to pull Tessa with him, but she didn’t budge. Her eyes were bleak when they met his.

“W-wait,” she stumbled, looking away. “There’s more. Other things I need to say. That I need to tell you.”

She started to slip her fingers from his and Tristan couldn’t stand the desolation on her face. He needed to make her understand. He needed to show her.

“Later, Tess. Whatever it is, it can wait. Right now, I need you to come with me.” She was hesitating, uncertain. Tristan nudged her into agreeing with another soft tug and a heartfelt, “Please.”

Tessa followed him into the bathroom. Tristan left the overhead lights off and flicked on the little accent lamp she’d placed in the corner. Tessa watched, confused, as he moved them in front of the mirror, turning her to face it.

“Look,” he directed, meeting her eyes in the reflection.

Tessa nipped at her bottom lip but did as he said.

“I don’t know what to say to convince you.” He cupped her chin, refusing to let her look away. “I’m not good at explaining things, Tessa. Shit, I’m not good at most things that involve other people. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

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 movements 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.