I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, which is some sort of miracle because the TV is turned up at top volume and the game the boys are playing is so freaking loud I can hardly hear myself think, let alone try and fall asleep.
But try and fall asleep I did because I grabbed one of the throw pillows, leaned my head on the arm of the couch, closed my eyes and within minutes I was out. For how long I’m not sure because the next thing I know, someone is shaking me awake, chanting sleepy head again and again.
It’s super annoying.
I crack open my eyes to stop the noise and find Kelli’s face in mine, a little smile curling her lips. “Hey,” she says, like she’s surprised I woke up. “Welcome back to the real world. You fell asleep.”
“I know.” I rub my eyes, feeling cranky, like a little kid. “Wish you wouldn’t have woke me.”
“You have company,” she sing songs and I close my eyes, struggling to block the horrible noise that comes out of her mouth.
The girl flat out can’t sing.
“They’re all Conrad’s friends,” I tell her.
“Not all of them.” She smirks. “Like Steven?”
I wave a dismissive, lazy hand. “He came to see Conrad.”
Kelli coughs into her hand. “Bullshit,” it sounds like.
“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” I should lock myself away in my room and be done with it. Kelli’s acting strange. And I’m tired of hearing dudes yell, “Fuck yeah,” and “Get that asshole!” anyway.
“I’m sure your guest will be thrilled to hear that,” Kelli murmurs gleefully.
“What are you talking about?” I sit up and swing my legs over the couch so I’m in a sitting position. I scrub a hand over my face, smooth my hair away from my eyes and focus in on the guys who are all sitting on the floor or on giant beanbags playing what appears to be an intense round of Call of Duty.
One of them who just so happens to be Tristan Prescott.
Gasping, my hand flies to my mouth, then back over my hair. Oh my God, I must look an absolute wreck. I’m wearing yoga pants and an old sweatshirt that’s so baggy I can get away without wearing a bra.
As in, I look like shit.
Why is he playing video games with my roommates? I turn to glare at Kelli and she looks so freaking amused I know she had a hand in this.
“What the hell is Tristan doing here?” I hiss-whisper.
Kelli sends me a look. “Be careful. He might hear you and you’ll hurt his feelings,” she cautions.
“He doesn’t have any feelings,” I return.
She considers what I said and nods. “You’re probably right. He’s pretty much the biggest asshole I know.” She grins and shoves my shoulder, making me almost topple over. “But he came to see you, Alex. Can you believe it? He can have any girl he wants and he’s choosing you.”
She says it like it’s some sort of twisted honor. Whatever.
“For tonight,” I mumble because it’s true. I don’t want to be another conquest, another notch in his bedpost or however that saying goes. And that’s all I’ll be to Tristan. We don’t know each other. And I don’t want to get to know him, as a friend or otherwise. That’s a situation I’d rather avoid altogether.
“You should go say hi,” Kelli encourages.
I study him. He doesn’t even see me, which isn’t a surprise. Those gorgeous blue eyes are locked on the big screen TV, his long fingers curled around the controller, and they’re moving as fast as possible as he starts shooting up whatever it is that he’s found. The other guys are yelling at him, so many F-bombs are flying in the air I wince and he just grins as he keeps killing the bad guys.
Why does he have to be so gorgeous? It’s like it hurts to look at him. Dark hair curls around his neck. He’s wearing a white long sleeve thermal Henley—he must have a bunch of those thermal shirts and he must know how incredibly sexy he looks in them—and jeans, boots covering his feet, making him look rugged and sexy and God, I need to get out of here now before I do something stupid.
“I’m going to bed,” I tell Kelli as I stand.
The disappointment on her face can’t be missed. “Are you serious?” She stands as well, hands on hips, attitude in full force. “He came here for you.”
“He doesn’t look like he stayed for me. More like he stayed for Call of Duty.” I wave a hand at the TV.
“You were sleeping! What else was he supposed to do?” We’re yelling at each other but not one of those guys is paying us any attention.
“I don’t know, but I’m not going to stick around and wait for him to finish like one of his other female groupies.” I’m not mad that he’s here. Really. It’s just the fact that I’m supposed to run up and greet him like I’ve waited all night for him to make an appearance? Should I thank Kelli for getting him to come here?
I’m thinking that would be a no.
“Thanks for coming over,” I tell her truthfully. I’m glad she came. My other roommate Felisha went out on a date so I would’ve been the lone female among three other guys. Having Kelli here balanced it out and she was the one who convinced them to let us have a Mario Kart match, which had been a lot of fun. “I had a good time.”
“Me too.” Kelli pulls away from me, her mouth turned into a frown. “You should say something to him.”
“Like what? Glad you came over, have fun shooting up the bad guys?” I wave a hand. “Just let him have his fun. He won’t even notice I’m gone.”
I leave the living room before Kelli can say anything else. Knowing her, she’d try to convince me to stick around and I want to be alone with my thoughts.
Did he really come here to see me? Of course he did. He’s not friends with my roommates, and he’s definitely not friends with Steven. The only person he likes that’s inside my house at the moment is Kelli. Meaning she had something to do with his sudden appearance.
I’ll forgive her and let it slide this time. If she tries to do something similar again, I’ll be pissed. I don’t need Tristan Prescott brought into my house like some sort of prize.
I have enough problems on my own. I don’t need to add him to the mix.
Going about my nightly routine, I lock myself into the bathroom and wash my face, remove any lingering eye makeup and then lotion up my skin, not only my face but practically my entire body. I’m big on moisturizing, got the habit from my mom and I think it seriously helps.
Well, I’ll see if it’s still helping when I’m in my forties.
I exit the bathroom, pausing in the narrow hallway to hear what’s being said in the living room—constant shooting, guys’ voices. Kelli asks if anyone wants a beer and Jeff shouts that he wants to do a round of tequila shots. They all cheer in agreement and I hear the clinking of glasses as Jeff or Kelli rummages through the cupboards. I’m just assuming.
Tempted to go out there and ask for one, even though I just brushed my teeth. Hoping to catch Tristan’s attention. Hoping to talk to him, though I know it’s pointless. Dumb.
Dangerous.
Annnd that’s my cue to go to bed.
Closing my bedroom door behind me, I turn the lock and quickly change out of my yoga pants and sweatshirt, slipping on a pair of one size too small shorts I bought at Victoria’s Secret when I was sixteen. They fit back then, but after constant washings and my ass spreading, now my butt cheeks practically hang out. So they’ve been regulated to sleep shorts. I tug on an old tank top—I sleep hot, I have ever since I was a kid—and am taking off my earrings when I hear a soft knock at my door.
I rush to it, shaking my head. “I thought we already said goodbye—” I start as I crack open the door, thinking that it’s Kelli. But it’s not.
It’s Tristan.
His arms are above his head, his hands gripping the top of the doorframe, his biceps straining against the sleeves of his shirt. He looks…delicious. “We never even said hello,” he says, offering me the smallest smile.
A smile that says a lot, yet nothing at all.
“What do you want?” I ask quietly, clutching the door handle for dear life. It’s either that or let go and slither to the floor like a puddle of nothing at having him so close.
His jaw works, the muscle flexing in his cheek before he says, “I’m pretty sure you know exactly what I want.”
My knees grow weak at his words. Me. He’s referring to me. I pull the door closer, needing the barrier between us. I’m wearing hardly anything and I don’t want him to see me like this. No makeup, sloppy bun on my head. I’m a wreck. Plain and boring while he’s dazzling and gorgeous and all he has to do is stand there and breathe. “You don’t even know me.”
“Do we have to go over that tired explanation again?” he asks, sounding exasperated. The muscles in his arms flex, drawing my attention and I wonder what it would feel like, to have those arms around me. “I don’t need to know you in order for us to fu—”
“Don’t say it.” I reach out and touch his mouth again, like I have no control over my hand. My fingertips press into the fleshy part of his lower lip, testing it. Savoring it. His breath is a hot blast of air as he parts his lips and I almost withdraw my hand.
Almost.
Not yet. Enjoy it. Enjoy having him this close.
“You should go,” I whisper, my voice trembling, my entire emotional being shaken to the core. I haven’t been this rattled since I went to my parents’ sentencing in court.
But that was a different kind of rattled. I was scared then. Worried for my parents yet mad too. Conflicting emotions ran through me that entire morning as I nervously paced and wrung my hands and freaked out over my future. While I worried, my parents consulted with their team of lawyers, never once asking if I was all right.
I should’ve taken that as a sign. They were selfish. Always. Putting their own actions and feelings above everything else and not giving a shit about their kid.
When the sentence was formally handed down, I felt a weird sense of relief. At last I finally knew. I was truly alone.
But I’d been alone a long time before that, I just never fully faced it until that moment.
With Tristan, I know absolutely nothing, and that’s the scariest part. What’s going on in his head? What motivates him? Why does he try to hook up with every girl he meets? I don’t know why he’s here, why he’s interested, why he won’t leave me alone. I’ve shown him in as many ways as possible that I don’t want anything to do with him.
Yet here he is. Persistent as hell and by the determined look I see on his handsome face, he’s not ready to give up on me. I let my hand drop, afraid I might do something crazy. Like grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss.
“I came here for you,” he admits, his voice low. “But you were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”
His confession is…sweet. And Tristan doesn’t do sweet. I know this. I’ve heard enough about him—from Kelli—to understand that he’s a man-whore of the highest caliber. When Shep began dating Jade, Tristan started screwing around even more. And when Gabe and Lucy got together?
Kelli said Tristan was going out with a different girl every night, like he was making up for what Shep and Gabe had lost.
Taking a shaky breath, I decide to be honest with him. “I think you’re going through an I-want-what-I-can’t-have stage, Tristan. This has nothing to do with me.”
His eyes darken. “See, that’s the thing. It has everything to do with you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
We stare at each other silently. I can’t believe he just said that. From the look on his face, I’m thinking he can’t believe he said it either.
“Are you interested in Steven? He’s a nice guy.” Tristan pauses. “I’m not.”
“I like Steven.” The flicker of disappointment in Tristan’s gaze at my admission is unmistakable.
“Of course you do,” he mutters, sounding disgusted. “I get it. You’re right. I should go.”
He lets go of the doorframe, his arms falling to his sides and I reach out to touch him, my hand resting on his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath my palm. “Don’t go,” I whisper.
Tristan frowns. “What about Steven?”
“I don’t like him in—that way.” I curl my fingers into the fabric of his shirt. He’s so warm. So hard. I wonder if he’s that warm and hard everywhere. My entire body flushes at the thought and I want to fan myself. The air crackles with an unseen energy that I can feel swirling between us, making me dizzy.
Making me want him, even though I shouldn’t.
“Not in what way?” he asks, his gaze flicking down to where I’m grasping his shirt.
“Not in the way that I like you,” I confess in the barest whisper. My throat’s dry. My heart is racing. If he says something mocking and stupid I’m going to punch him. Seriously. I just confessed something I never wanted him to know and if he makes a mockery of me I will lose it.
Slowly he reaches for me, those long fingers I admired earlier curling around my wrist, his grip loose, his touch sending tingles shooting up my arm, scattering throughout my body. “You like me.”
“Most of the time I really don’t.” His thumb sweeps across the inside of my wrist and I sink my teeth into my lower lip to stop the whimper that wants to escape. “You’re kind of annoying.”
He smiles, his thumb pressing into my skin, right against my chaotic pulse. Can he see what he does to me? “You think?”
“And beyond arrogant.”
He shrugs. “Always have been.”
My God, I want to slap him. Or pull him in close and kiss him. “You act like you’re God’s gift to women,” I point out.
“I’ve been with a lot of women.”
My heart sinks. He keeps this up and I’m definitely going to push him away. “What’s awful is that you’re proud of that little fact, aren’t you?”
“Only because it’s helped me see what I want.” He tugs on my wrist, pulling me in closer. What does he mean by that? “Aren’t you curious, Alexandria?”
He brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it, soft lips barely pressed against my skin. My legs feel boneless and I lock my knees to keep from falling. I want to die, just combust into a million tiny pieces. Never to be seen again. All from a simple kiss on the back of my hand.
I wait breathlessly, my fingers trembling in his grasp. He lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine, dark and mysterious and so incredibly sexy I want to say yes to whatever he says next.
“Curious about what?” I finally ask, proud that my voice is so steady. Inside, I’m an absolute mess.
“What it would be like between us.” He takes one step forward and I take one back, suddenly needing the space. “I think we’d be good together.”
“If you’re talking sexually…” I start and he shakes his head.
“Does it always have to be about sex?” He smirks.
This from the guy that lurks around bathrooms, looking to find a chick who’s down to fuck. Please. “With you, yes.”
He chuckles, the rich sound sending a pulsing sensation throughout my body, settling in between my legs. “Maybe I want to do something different with you.”
I frown. “Like what?” What, I don’t rate? This man is so incredibly infuriating. One minute I don’t want to ever see him again and the next, I’m breathless with anticipation for him to do something, anything to me to help ease the ache deep inside.
Like the bossy asshole that he is, he pushes his way into my room, giving me no choice but to step back, letting him in. He shuts the door behind him and grabs hold of me, whirling me around so I’m pressed against the wall and he’s…
Pressed against me.
“Just a kiss,” he whispers, shifting his hips so I can feel every inch of him. And trust me, there are a lot of inches. “I’ve been dying to know what that mouth of yours taste like, Alexandria. Let me have one taste?”
His voice is deep. Sensual. Intoxicating. I part my lips in anticipation, my eyes shuttering closed when his fingers drift along my jaw, his thumb tracing my lower lip. A shuddering breath escapes me and my mouth falls open.
I want him to kiss me. I’m dying for it.
And then his mouth is on mine. A soft press of lips on lips, mine parting at first touch, as are his. Electricity races through my veins, sparking my blood and I sigh, bathing his lips with my breath. He shifts closer, breaking the kiss as his hands lift to cradle my cheeks and then he kisses me again.
I’m lost.