chapter twenty-one
He was starting to freak her out.
Sydney tried not to study him under her lashes as he competently broke down the empty pizza box and stacked the salad plates in the dishwasher. Since Becca wasn’t home, they’d decided to get takeout. They’d eaten at the counter and talked solely about work. He seemed calm again, as if that strange blowup on the site had never occurred.
Except Sydney knew something had changed.
Each word he spoke was accompanied by a glint of determination in those whiskey eyes. He seemed to be studying her, like a predator would assess his prey before striking. The air hung heavily with tension, but she couldn’t figure out what seethed beneath the surface.
Was it the ring?
The moment he’d slipped the three-karat diamond on her finger, she’d felt weighted down. Knowing the marriage was fake, it hurt to wear it, so she became used to leaving the ring behind in the velvet box. Working the site was a perfect excuse. He’d never noticed before. Was it because Paul had tried to ask her out?
The idea of Tristan being jealous thrilled her, but she doubted that was it. Probably more like a claiming territory sort of thing. Her mind spun with possibilities. She couldn’t keep dealing with the push/pull of this relationship much longer.
“Refill?” he asked, pointing to the bottle of expensive French wine he loved.
“Yes. Nothing like a great vintage with pizza,” she said. He poured her another glass. The rich aromas of blackberry and smoke rose to her nostrils. “It’s been a long day.”
“Becca loved the horseback riding. I’m glad you suggested we all go together.”
“Me too. But next time I want a horse that’s not named Bam Bam and doesn’t secretly want to try to kill me.”
“Why aren’t you wearing your ring, Sydney?”
She stiffened. Uh-oh. She should’ve known he’d get stuck on this issue. She kept her voice cool. “Does it really matter? I’m sorry if you took it personally, but it doesn’t make sense when I’m working at the site.”
He nodded and sipped his wine. Contemplated her words. “You didn’t wear it yesterday, either, when you were strictly at the office. Or at poker night. Where is it?”
She practically gnashed her teeth together in frustration. Damn him for pushing. “In the box. Where it’s safe.”
“I wear mine every day.” He lifted his hand. The ring flashed in the light—a dazzling gold with intricate carved ridges. Her heart dropped at the symbol of love and devotion for a couple who committed without doubt. Not like them. Not like a shotgun marriage performed seven years later because of a child. She buried the pain and concentrated on anger. It was so much simpler.
“Well, goody for you. Maybe you’re more careful than I am.”
“Have you changed your name legally yet?”
She glowered. She was excited Becca would have the family name, but it terrified her. How many times had she lost herself in the pursuit of Tristan Pierce? Having his name was a hollow victory without his heart. She tried not to squirm under his relentless gaze. “I’m waiting for Becca’s new birth certificate. It should come in the mail in a few more weeks.”
“And yours?”
“I haven’t had the time to go to the town office yet. It’s a lot of paperwork, and I’ve been busy.”
He propped his elbows on the counter and regarded her. “Hmm.” Slowly his finger tapped against the edge of the glass. The air lit with electricity, and she struggled for breath. He was so damn virile. From those lean muscles and tapered fingers to those carved lips, the man oozed sex appeal.
She snapped her mind into battle mode. “What does that noise mean?” she challenged. “You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe you’ve been busy. But I also believe you don’t want to change your name. I think you’re pretending we have a convenient arrangement and refuse to admit this will be a real marriage.”
“It’s not a real marriage! You made me do this.”
He lifted a brow. A flush hit her cheeks. Deep inside, she’d dreamed of marrying him her entire life. Of being his wife. Unfortunately, she’d gotten her wish in the completely wrong way. She’d tried to protect herself by keeping her distance, but nothing seemed to work.
Maybe it was time to change her plan.
Maybe it was time to go after what they’d both wanted.
“I think we tried it your way for a while and now we’re going to try it mine.”
His soft tone caused goose bumps to shiver along her skin. Her heart began pounding so loud, she knew he heard it. “What do you mean?”
A smile touched his lips. “I think you know.”
She got up from her seat. Poised for flight, she trembled, staring at him in half unease, half fascination. He seemed completely calm and in control of the whole situation. The air hung heavy with sexual tension. She regarded him with heavy-lidded eyes, knowing this was a turning point for both of them. Tristan intended to get her into his bed.
And she intended to be there.
But it couldn’t be on his terms.
She tilted her head, as if considering his words. She was not going to just meekly acquiesce to his primeval threats. The thrill of the game sent shivers of anticipation down her spine. “Maybe I do know.” She tossed him a challenging smile. “But I don’t think it’s going to happen tonight. Better to tell you that right now before things go any further.”
He placed his glass down on the table. Slowly rose from the chair and stretched with an animallike grace. “Maybe it’s best if I lay out the actual plan of the evening.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it neatly on the back of the chair. “First, I’m going to remove all of your clothes. I’m going to lay you out on the bed and spend endless hours tasting you. Touching you. Biting you. Licking you.” He unclipped his cuff links and laid them on the counter. “When you’ve come at least twice, I’m going to fuck you. First hard and fast. Then real slow. Until you weep and scream my name over and over.” He rolled his cuffs up his forearms. “Then I’m going to do it all over again until you remember to wear your ring every damn day.”
Her mouth was as dry as a barren desert. His dirty words caused a tsunami of sensation curling in her belly, fogging her mind with a gripping need that blasted away her defenses. Dear God, he was good. Already she craved to give in and to hell with a chase.
She fought to rally. Took a step back, her hands in front of her. “No. I mean it, Tristan. Stay away from me or you’ll regret it.”
“Too late. You’re my wife and it’s about time I claimed you as such. In my bed.”
She gulped for air. Whiskey-colored eyes narrowed in on her. He loosened his tie, unknotted it, and slid it off his neck. The red ribbon dropped to the floor in sheer seductive glory. Her thighs squeezed, and her panties dampened. Holy shit. She was soaking wet, and he’d only taken off his jacket and damn tie.
She glanced to the staircase, counting the number of steps necessary to get her to safety. If she moved fast, she’d be able to lock herself in the bedroom. That would show him. She prepared for flight, only to be distracted when he began unbuttoning that snowy-white shirt, unveiling a line of hard muscles and intriguing hair that traveled down his chest, over eight-pack abs, and disappeared under his slacks.
His lips twitched at her hungry stare. “You want this just as bad as I do.”
His arrogance took her breath away. She gathered her temper and flung it at him like a witch casting a spell. “I’m sure you’ll tell yourself that to justify forcing me.”
His laugh made her curl her hands into fists. “Oh, baby, this won’t have anything to do with force. In fact, I won’t be satisfied until you beg me.” He unbuckled his belt, slid it from the loops, and dropped it. The metal hit the wood floor, causing her to jump. “Do you remember how well you used to beg, Sydney?”
She raised her chin. Her nipples were tight and achy, pressing against the thin material of her shirt in a demand to be freed. Her core heated and softened, ready for him. “Maybe this time you’ll be the one to beg,” she threw out. “ ’Cause I’m done.”
“You’ve been driving me crazy for way too long.” He drew the tab on the zipper down slow. The hiss hit the air like bacon sizzling in a pan. “It’s time I take what belongs to me and teach you a valuable lesson.”
She seethed with frustration and arousal. “I’m not your possession.”
His eyes flared with a hungry, raw lust that kept her chained in place. He stalked her like a predator, and she moaned low in her throat. “Yes, you are,” he declared. “You’re my wife. You’re mine, whether you like it or not. The moment you said those vows, I owned that sweet body, and it’s time I show you who the real boss is around here.”
Did he really think she’d surrender that easily? She’d make him work for it. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
The dare hung in the air between them. His pants drifted over his hips and hit the floor. His erection strained against his briefs, and her mouth watered at the gorgeousness of his body, the hard strength standing before her. Toasty-golden skin covered with dark hair and bulging biceps and muscled thighs braced apart. He was David incarnate: proud and strong and graceful, and she’d never wanted him more in her entire life. And they were still in the kitchen? Why hadn’t she moved yet?
“Sydney?”
She blinked away the haze of primal lust. “Yes?”
“I’ll give you one chance.” He paused. His grin was slow and feral. “Run.”
Adrenaline hit. Heart racing, she dove for the stairs and scrambled up with speed but little grace. Fingers closed around her ankle, but she gave a frantic yelp and ran faster, bare feet skidding on the hardwood floor.
No time to look for a room. Her hand brushed the knob of their bedroom, and she flung it open, pivoting in one swift motion in an effort to shut the door and lock it behind her.
Too late.
He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her high in the air. She fought like a wild thing, desperate for escape, but he only laughed and held her easily, keeping her tight against his chest, then tossing her onto the bed.
She rolled to the left and feigned escape, kicking out with her right leg to connect with his shin. He pulled back for a few precious seconds. Putting all her energy into one last-ditch effort, Sydney bolted off the bed and launched herself into the air, ready to crawl into the bathroom to safety.
Midair, she suddenly changed course and found herself pinned to the mattress by a very hard, very pissed-off, very dangerous male.
“You’ve always been a pain in the ass,” he muttered. His forehead was damp with sweat. His bare skin pressed against every one of her curves, his cock wedged intimately between her thighs. Her breasts lifted and strained against her. “I’m so going to enjoy making you pay, baby.”
“Fuck you!” The stinging words were contradicted by her ragged breaths and hard nipples.
He made a tsking sound, golden eyes lit with hunger and the thrill of the catch. “I plan to.”
His mouth crashed over hers.
The moment their lips met, the fight drained from her body, to be replaced by a raw, savage need that heated her blood. She moaned, biting his lip hard, and he gripped her hair, holding her head still, as his lips ravaged hers in the soul-stirring kiss. All her promises and insults and defenses shattered with the thrust of his silky tongue and the intoxicating taste of him.
He wasted no time in tugging off her clothes, until she lay naked beneath him. His hair-roughened legs entangled with hers, holding every inch of her still as he kept kissing her, devouring her whole.
When he ripped his mouth away, she was panting. Her skin burned like fire. Eyes dazed, she looked into his beloved face and slowly reached up to cup his cheeks. “What are you going to do?” she whispered.
He pressed his thumb against her swollen lip. A shiver of fear bumped down her spine at the intensity in his eyes. “Everything.”
His fingers suddenly plunged between her thighs.
She cried out and arched under the delicious sensations of his fingers deep in her pussy. There was no finesse or seduction, just the primitive thrusts driving her upward in brutal determination to make her explode. She clung to his shoulders, barely able to hold on, his palm dragging across her clit as he pressed straight into her G-spot over and over until—
She came hard, her body seizing around him, sinking her teeth into his shoulder. He grunted in satisfaction, refusing to slow down, forcing her to milk out every last shimmer of her orgasm before removing his fingers.
Boneless, she blinked up at him.
“That’s one.”
“Tristan—”
He lowered his head and took the hard tip of her nipple in his mouth. Helpless to fight, she offered herself up to him, drowning in the intense pleasure of his wicked tongue licking, sucking, the sharp edges of his teeth raking across her nipple until she was swollen and so sensitive, it bordered on pain. He murmured in satisfaction and moved to her other breast, giving the same treatment, until she was hot and aching again, desperate for him to slide inside her channel.
“I love your breasts,” he growled. He blew air over her tight, wet skin and watched her nipples harden even more. “Do you know how many times I fantasized about unbuttoning those proper white blouses and cupping my hands over you? I dreamed you’d sit on my desk in your tight little skirt, bare breasted, just for my pleasure.”
“I used to have my own fantasies,” she whispered in his ear, biting his lobe, blowing gently.
“Oh, yeah? What about?”
“This.”
Taking him by surprise, she wrapped her legs around him and rolled, pinning him to the mattress. Sliding over his body, she pulled down his briefs, releasing his heavy erection. Her hair spilled over his muscled chest and she cupped him with both hands, stroking and squeezing, loving the feel of his hot, silky skin stretched tight over his hard cock. “Taking you deep in my mouth while you begged me to stop.” She lowered her head, her breath rushing over him in warning. “While you begged me to continue.”
Her name was uttered like a curse and a prayer.
She opened her mouth and took him deep.
His hips shot up as she pleasured him, sucking and licking, scraping her teeth delicately over the wet tip, then taking him back full between her lips. His fingers clenched in her hair and she sucked furiously, wanting him to slide over the edge. She hummed, letting the vibrations intensify his sensations, nails digging into his hips as she worked him closer and closer—
He flipped her back over in one neat motion, until she lay helpless underneath, blinking in confusion. “Hey, I wasn’t done!”
He chuckled, moving down her belly. Kept her pinned down with two hard hands. “Witch.” His tongue dipped in her belly button, his teeth scraping across the sensitive skin of her hip, inner thigh, and around the landing strip of hair she’d left for him. “Get ready for number two.”
He spread her thighs wide, holding her open with his broad shoulders, and dipped his head. His tongue licked with a teasing insistency that made her crazed. Her clit throbbed for attention, but he refused, spending long minutes nibbling, sucking her labia, scraping his teeth over her swollen flesh until she writhed helplessly under him, desperate for contact.
“Tristan!”
“Ask me nicely.” Around and around his tongue circled, refusing to give her the pressure she craved. Her vision blurred, and she clenched her fists in the tangled sheets.
“No.”
He laughed low, pleased. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Oh, she burned. His tongue teased her with a ruthless determination, until the edge of pain and pleasure blurred. Her whole body clenched, kept on the precipice of falling apart, and she moaned deep in her throat, going halfway mad with need. “Tristan.”
“One word.”
“Bastard.”
His teeth scraped. His thumbs danced. “That’s not it.”
“Please.”
“Very nice.” He opened his mouth and sucked hard on her clit.
She exploded, jerking against his lips, caught in waves of sensation. His name came out on a sob. She was dying and he hadn’t even entered her yet.
She heard the tear of a wrapper. He knelt on the bed, sheathing himself with the condom, staring down at her with a fierce satisfaction that gave him the look of a conqueror. She waited for the shame to hit, her easy acquiescence the moment he touched her, but it was buried underneath the throbbing ache for him; to have him inside her one more time, to truly belong to him.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said in a husky voice.
He grasped her ankles, pushing her feet up. She reached out her arms to him, but those lips curved in a half smile, full of male triumph. “No, baby. I said the first time would be hard and fast. Remember?”
“But—”
With one swift motion, he flipped her onto her belly. Head spinning, she had no time to think or protest, because he dragged her to her knees, pushed her legs far apart, and entered her in one full thrust.
For a moment, she fought him. The burning stretch of her muscles as he filled her completely, buried to the hilt, shook her to the core. His hands gripped her hips, palms on her ass. Head bent over the pillow, propped on her elbows, she was suddenly, achingly vulnerable, open to anything he wanted to do, and she shook in a combination of thrilling abandon and crippling fear.
Then his head ducked, pressing kisses over her shoulder, his voice hot and steady in her ear. “Hold on, baby. I got you.”
Her body relaxed, accepting him fully, and he muttered a vicious curse. Then began to move.
He took her just as promised—hard and fast. Deep strokes that left her no place to hide, a show of domination that was primitive, sexual, and so arousing, she was shoved immediately to the edge of her next climax. Sydney pushed back with her hips, demanding more, and he gave it to her, reaching between her legs to pluck at her clit. She panted, arching, and he sank his teeth into her shoulder, throwing her over the edge.
This time, when she came down from her climax, she was on her back, staring up into his whiskey-gold eyes.
“I can’t get enough of you.” He paused. “I’ve never been able to get enough of you.”
The words ripped at her heart. With no barriers to protect herself, tears threatened, and she looped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his damp, hot skin. He pressed gentle kisses everywhere, stroking her body with slow, calming touches, bringing her back up step-by-step. His lips took hers, tasting, giving, cupping her cheeks with a tenderness that made her ache.
The final time, he made love to her with slow, drugging precision, refusing to rush. He kissed and licked every inch of skin, worshipping her. She explored on her own, reveling in the hard muscles of his biceps, nipping at his tight stomach, her fingers squeezing his cock, like silk covering hard steel. Time stopped, blurred, faded to nothing under the aching intensity of flesh melding with flesh. When he finally entered her, their gazes locked, their breath a mingling whisper. She hovered on the edge of the cliff, mesmerized by the carved features of his face, then fell into the heat of his gaze and said good-bye again to her heart, which had never been hers to begin with.
It had always been his.
She shattered into tiny pieces, and he held her the entire time. Her name was a groan from his lips, and then he pulled her tight against him, both of them seeming to be unable to break away from the searing contact of skin and bone and flesh. Without a word, she closed her eyes and fell into sleep, already knowing sex had changed everything.