After our enlightening talk on the front porch—who knew going for a run would cause Alexandria to open up so much—we snuck into the house and into her room, thankful everyone that were already inside was concentrating on the game play unfolding on the TV screen versus us.
“We could’ve been terrorists and they would’ve never noticed us,” Alexandria says indignantly once I have the door to her room shut.
“Right, like terrorists are targeting your house,” I joke as I turn the lock firmly into place. I want zero interruptions right now.
“Fine, not terrorists, home invasion people.” She pauses and I give her a look. “What? Those types of crime scare the crap out of me! You’re sitting at home, minding your own business when someone suddenly busts in and demands all your valuables. I can’t imagine how scary that would be.”
“Your home is invaded every day with Conrad’s friends,” I tell her seriously. It’s the damn truth. The living room is currently filled with five guys, three of them I don’t recognize. “Or Kelli.”
She makes a face. “Don’t mock Kelli. She’s frustrated.”
“Over what?” I settle on the edge of Alexandria’s bed and watch while she mills about her room, grabbing a hair tie as she piles her hair on top of her head and puts it into a sloppy bun.
I like it when she does that. I pretty much like it when she does anything.
“Steven. They’re still playing the I-don’t-like-you-but-I-do game.” She rolls her eyes. “They need to just do it and get it out of the way.”
“That sounds familiar,” I say with a smile, earning a slap on the arm for my efforts.
“You know my reasoning behind taking it slow,” she chastises, completely adorable. And I never think a chick is adorable. “You said you were okay with it.”
“I am. I swear.” My mouth goes dry when she reaches for the hem of her sweatshirt and lifts it up. And up, until she’s revealing her bare stomach and the sexy as fuck sports bra she’s wearing. It covers a lot but Jesus. Where did she get that thing? “What the hell sort of fresh torture is this?”
She tugs her shirt completely off and tosses it on the nearby chair. “What’s wrong with my sports bra?” She glances down at herself, even more adorable than she was before.
I wave a hand, indicating for her to come closer. She does as I ask, stopping directly in front of me and I reach up, toying with the little zipper handle with my index finger. “This. This is what’s wrong with your sports bra. It fucking unzips.” Right down the center. One tug and I could see everything.
And that’s all I can think about. Me, unzipping the bra slowly and revealing those perfect small tits with the rosy nipples. Spending the rest of the afternoon sucking on them, the both of us naked in her tiny bed.
Rolling her eyes, she bats my hand away and takes a step back. “What’s the big deal? So it’s a zipper.”
“A zipper that comes undone and offers me a glimpse of the promised land,” I immediately retort.
Alexandria rolls her eyes. “Are you calling my breasts the promised land?”
“I will call them the Statue of Liberty and Mount Everest all rolled up in one to prove to you how magical your tits really are,” I say solemnly.
She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “You are seriously unreal.”
I bounce on the edge of her bed, bracing my hands on the mattress. “How big is this bed anyway?”
“It’s a queen. So sorry it’s not a California king or whatever you have back at your place. Some of us peasants can only afford so much.” She sniffs and tilts her nose. Is she joking? Please God, tell me she’s joking. “I bet your bed is even custom-made.”
It is. The mattress and box spring are longer to accommodate my height. “You never complained when you were in it.”
Her cheeks turn crimson. “Do you always have to circle back to sex?”
“Where you’re concerned? Hell, yeah.” I grab her about the waist and pull her in between my legs, my hand sprawled across her butt. She’s wearing spandex black leggings that leave nothing to the imagination. As in, all I see are her long, long legs and her perfect ass. “A man only has so much patience.”
“Are you saying you’re giving up on me already?” She rests her hands on my shoulders just as I lean in and press my mouth against her bared belly.
“Never,” I murmur against her warm, slightly salty skin. I kiss her there. Gentle, feather-light kisses, again and again, doing my best not to miss an inch of skin with my lips. She trembles beneath my mouth, a shaky sigh leaving her when I lick the curve of her belly button.
“Tristan, what are you doing?”
I tilt my head back and she runs her hand over my hair. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I kiss along her ribcage while she tugs on my hair. I guess she wants me to stop? Why?
“I’m sweaty. I should take a shower.”
“No way. I like you sweaty.” I run my mouth along the edge of her sports bra, breathe deep her wildflower scent. Is it the lotion she uses? Or maybe her perfume? I need to ask her. But not now. “It’s your fault you know.”
“My fault for what?” She huffs out incredulous laughter when I look up at her, my eyes narrowed.
“Tempting me with your sexy zipper bra and your spandex.” I smack one ass check lightly, making her stumble. “You really think I’d be on my best behavior when you’re dressed like this?”
“If I didn’t like you, I’d take offense to that remark,” she starts, her voice firm. Did I just press all of her feminist buttons? Shit. I didn’t mean anything by what I said. “Women don’t wear clothing just to be objectified by men, you know.”
“Yeah, but you wear your sexy bras and panties just to drive me wild with lust. Don’t deny it, you know it’s true. You admitted it yourself a few nights ago,” I point out.
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, contemplating me. Her fingers are still in my hair, sifting through it carefully. As if it brings her joy to touch me. “Wild with lust?”
I nod. “Uh huh. And now this.” I reach up and toy with the zipper, giving it a little tug. It slides down easily, revealing gloriously bare skin. “I love zippers.”
She smiles, her eyes glowing as she watches me. “Really?”
“Definitely. Especially when I can do this with them.” I unzip her bra the rest of the way, the fabric falling open, revealing her breasts. My mouth goes dry. Will that always happen every single time? In that first breathtaking moment when I see her bare, just for me? Her nipples are hard, beaded points and I pull her in closer to my eager mouth, pressing a kiss in the spot between her breasts.
Her hand curves around the back of my head, holding me to her. “We shouldn’t…”
“Oh, we definitely should,” I interrupt, licking the underside of her breast and making her jump. “Unless you think I’m too sweaty?”
“I don’t think you broke a sweat the entire run,” she mumbles, sounding irritated.
Which only makes me smile. “Jealous of my superior athletic ability?”
She shakes her head. “Sort of. Not really. I figure I’ll benefit from it eventually.”
Mmm, she is so right. “You can benefit from it right now if you’d like.”
“I’d like that,” she admits softly.
I don’t say another word, just kiss my way across her chest, teasing her nipples with my tongue. Her breathing accelerates, as does mine. Her fingers tighten in my hair. Her stance gets a little wobbly when I pull a nipple into my mouth and gently suck. My hands never leave her butt, keeping her steady, not letting her escape, though I don’t believe she would try.
She tastes good. Like warm, fragrant, salty Alexandria. I curl my fingers into the waistband of her leggings at the exact moment she shrugs out of her sports bra, leaving her bare from the waist up. The spandex proves more trouble, the clinging fabric a struggle as I pull them down her legs, and I come face to panties with the sexiest little black mesh thong I’ve ever seen.
And I can see everything, each curling, dark blonde pubic hair that barely covers her mound, the dampness from her body sticking to the front of her panties. I suck in a breath, inhaling her musky scent before I glance up to find her head bent, hair tumbling forward as she watches me.
“You’re wet.”
She nods, nibbling on that lower lip again. “That’s what happens when you touch me.”
“Just one touch?” Leaving her leggings bunched around her knees, I skim my finger across the front of her panties. She sucks in a harsh breath, her eyelids wavering.
“That’s pretty much all it takes,” she murmurs.
“Hmm.” I trace along her slit, back and forth, pleased when the fabric grows wetter. Hotter. With my other hand, I push her leggings farther down, until they fall in a heap around her ankles, though she doesn’t kick them off. “You smell good.”
“Tristan…”
“I’m serious.” I press my face against her pussy and breathe her in. My dick twitches in response. “I love the way you smell, especially right here.”
A shiver moves through her. “You’re a pervert.”
“I am.” I pull away so I can smile up at her. “I’ve never denied it.”
She laughs, a nervous, tinkling sound. “I’m thinking you believe I should be okay with this?”
“Like you said, you do benefit from it. And I’m only a pervert for you.” I grab hold of the skimpy strings that stretch across her hips and pull. “Now let’s go ahead and get you naked.”
Oh, he’s a wicked, wicked man, smiling at me so casually, his face right in my lady business, his long fingers curled around my panties as he tries to take them off. Only moments ago he had his face right there, inhaling me. Teasing me with his fingers, and before that kissing and licking my nipples…
I didn’t plan on this happening. Really, I didn’t. I figured we’d go for a run as a way to work off some of that sexual frustration that’s been building up between us. But then I’d taken off my shirt, he’d caught one look at my sports bra and forget it. Our libidos kicked right back into gear and now here I am with my leggings around my ankles and my shoes still on, practically naked while he’s still fully dressed.
This might get a little awkward with the clothing logistics.
That smile is still locked on his face as he pulls my thong down, revealing me to him. He inhales sharply, his nostrils flaring, the smile fading as he drinks me in. A wave of arousal moves through me and I feel sexy. Powerful. That I can make him react so strongly without really doing anything but exist is a heady sensation.
“I want to taste you so fucking bad.” He holds onto my hips, his large hands enveloping them. I wait and watch with barely held breath, jerking against him when he nuzzles my sex with his nose. His mouth. He kisses me there, softly at first, then more persistent. Open mouthed kisses that feel so good I could faint. And when his tongue joins the mix, lapping at my damp skin, the whimper that escapes me is loud.
So loud he glances up at me, that wicked smile firmly in place once again. “You okay?”
I nod. “I still have my shoes on.”
Chuckling, he helps me with that, tugging them off my feet along with my socks, then taking off my leggings and panties until I’m naked in front of him. Bared to him, completely on display in the afternoon light, where he can examine my every flaw.
“So fucking beautiful,” he says reverently, skimming his hands along my hips, my outer thighs. I stand on shaky legs, inhaling deep as I desperately try to keep my shit together.
With him like this, I feel so damn vulnerable. And it’s been a long time since I’ve experienced this, and never this intense. I’ve kept myself closed off for so long, hidden in the shadows, trying to reestablish my footing. I told myself from the start I shouldn’t get involved with a guy like Tristan. He’d make me feel too exposed, too raw, too…everything.
And now here I am. Naked. Raw. Exposed. Vulnerable. He’s got his hands on me, his mouth on my skin, worshiping my body, making me feel so good, so wonderfully, deliciously…
Alive.
“You’re shaking, angel.” He touches my hip with his fingers, drifts them down, through my pubic hair. “Do I make you nervous?”
I nod, my throat too dry to speak.
“Why?”
I shake my head, not wanting to answer.
“You make me nervous too.”
His quiet confession makes my head jerk in surprise. I glance down at him, my eyes wide, my lips parted though I still can’t talk. He nods in response, leaning in to drop a kiss to the very top of my right thigh, his warm mouth lingering on my skin like he doesn’t want to stop. I shiver at the tender gesture.
“It’s true,” he murmurs. “You overwhelm me. My feelings for you—I don’t understand them.”
I run a hand through his soft hair, silently encouraging him to go on.
“You’re too good for me, you know that?” He tilts his head back, our gazes meeting. His blue eyes are so dark, that familiar turbulent storm raging within them. “I’ll probably end up only hurting you in the end.”
I flinch at his choice of words. The end. Who wants to hear that, especially when what we have is only beginning?
“You consume me, Alexandria,” he continues, his voice rough. “I spent all night with you and the next day all I could imagine was when I would next see you again. You haunt my thoughts, my dreams. I don’t think like that. I never think like that.” He shakes his head, looking almost irritated. “You’re the first woman that’s ever made me feel like this. Though I tried to deny it.”
He did?
“I tried to tell myself I didn’t need you, but fuck it.” He rises to his feet, almost intimidating as he stands so close to me, his hands still on my hips, his body radiating heat. He’s all I can see, hear, feel. “I want you, Ali. I want you so fucking bad it’s killing me to just play around with you or whatever the hell we’re doing. When all I really want to do is get you in that bed and fuck you until the both of us can’t see straight.”
Oh. My entire body goes weak at his words, the fluttering in my stomach making me jittery. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, all thoughts of wanting to take this slow in order to protect myself flying right out the window.
“I can’t make you any flowery promises. I can’t say that one of us or the both of us won’t get hurt at some point. But I’m—I’m fucking desperate to be inside you.” He releases my hips to hold my face, tilting it up so I have no choice but to stare into his blazing eyes. He hesitates, I see his Adam’s apple move when he swallows and wait for whatever he has to say next. “I just want to feel close to you,” he whispers, his admission pulled from somewhere deep. “I want to look you in the eyes when I enter you for the first time. And I want to be the one you hold onto when I make you come.”
I throw myself at him. There’s no other way to describe it. I fling my body at his and he grunts, his arms going around me, catching me before I fall. I find his mouth, my kiss desperate, his all consuming. He kisses me like he’s putting all of his heart and soul into it, his mouth, his tongue hungry for mine. I rub all over him, trying to climb up his body like some sort of crazy woman and he steers us toward the bed, collapsing on top of it and taking me with him.
“Baby. Baby, slow down,” he whispers, but I can’t. I want him too much. He’s laying on his back, me sprawled over him and I meld my mouth with his, kissing him long and deep. Never wanting it to end.
The things he says to me, the meaning behind his words, the soulful tone of his voice—he knows just how to crash through all of my defenses. Makes me wonder why I wanted to wait when I can have him, all of him, right now.
“I want you naked,” I tell him after I break our kiss, sliding down his body so I can shove up his T-shirt, pull on the waistband of his track pants. Our hands are everywhere, bumping into each other as we make quick work of his clothes so the both of us are finally bare. Our legs tangle as he rolls me over, his hips thrusting against mine as he kisses me, his tongue keeping rhythm with his movements.
I run my hands over the smooth expanse of his back, his muscles bunching beneath my palms. He pulls away from my mouth to kiss my neck, his hands cupping my breasts, thumbs playing with my nipples.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he mutters against my neck. “But I don’t have a condom.”
Shocked, I shove at his shoulders so he has no choice but to lift away from me. “Are you serious? You? Tristan Prescott, the player of all players, doesn’t have one condom?”
He actually looks embarrassed, even downright bashful. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to take it slow. I was trying to abide by your rules.”
I touch his cheek and he returns his gaze to mine. “There are no rules when it comes to us.”
His brows go up. “Is there an us?”
“I think so,” I say slowly, my heart knocking against my ribs. “Don’t you?”
Tristan is quiet for so long he makes me nervous. Or should I say—more nervous. I can feel him, his erection pressing against my belly, large and insistent. Nerves claw at my insides at what we’re about to do. There’s no going back. Once we have actual sex, the next moments are telling.
Will he stick around? Or will he bail? Tristan of the past would totally bail. But Tristan of the past also would never spend as much time with a girl as long as he’s done with me.
At least, this is according to Kelli.
“I think so too,” he finally says, just as carefully.
My smile is tremulous. And my heart is full of utter relief. “Open the bedside table drawer,” I tell him quietly.
He reaches over me, his chest in my face, his hard cock rubbing against my stomach, leaving a damp, sticky trail. Pulling open the drawer, he looks inside and starts to laugh. “How many do you think we’ll need?”
Condoms rain all around my head and bounce onto the pillow, making me laugh. “They were a gift from Kelli,” I answer.
“Really?” He grabs the majority of them off the pillow and throws them back into the drawer, pushing it shut. The few that remain he gathers up and sets on top of the bedside table. “She must think we’re in for a major sex fest.”
I go hot and shaky at the mere thought of indulging in a major sex fest with Tristan. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Slowly he readjusts and then thrusts, his cock coming closer to my entrance. “Agreed,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss.
I dodge him and he growls in frustration. “I need to tell you where she got all those condoms.”
“Who cares?” He starts to kiss my neck again, his mouth wet and hot, his tongue licking at my skin, making me shiver.
“She found them in Conrad’s closet.” I trace random patterns on Tristan’s chest, playing with the chest hair that grows in between his pecs. He’s so deliciously manly, I can’t get over having him in my bed. Between my legs.
Tristan goes still, slowly lifting his head. “What was she doing in Conrad’s closet? And how many condoms does he need?”
I giggle. “That’s the thing. He never brings any girls around, yet he’s beyond prepared. And I have no clue why Kelli was in his closet. I don’t think I want to know.”
“Probably not,” he mutters before he kisses me again. His tongue slides around mine, circles it, just like his hips move against mine, too. I moan into his mouth, my hands landing on his perfect ass, tugging him closer. I want him inside me. Now.
I’m tired of waiting. I know exactly what I want.
Tristan.