“I want to show you off,” Tristan told me as I recovered from another mind-blowing orgasm, his arm around me. We were still in the tub, still soaking up its intense heat. “I think we should get ourselves cleaned up.”

“Show me off?” I looked around and laughed. “To whom? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Maybe so, but we’re not far from somewhere. Come on, I’ll take you into town for an early dinner. That is, if you’re ready to get out.”

“I’m ready,” I said. Anything that would move us forward and out of this state of relationship limbo we were in. Anything that would give me insight into who Tristan really was, and how I fit into his life.

After we’d climbed out of the tub, he opened an inconspicuous wooden door in the side of the house and extracted two warm towels, one of which he handed to me. I wrapped it around my body, astonished at the amenities of this chalet of his.

“A heated closet? Seriously, is there anything you haven’t thought of in this place?” I asked.

“Not much, truth be told,” he replied. “Speaking of which, I hope it doesn’t bother you too much—but I took some liberties with your wardrobe for tonight.”

“My wardrobe?” I asked. “You’re not one of those guys with weird kinks who’s going to dress me up like the gimp from Pulp Fiction, are you?”

He chuckled, revealing his sexy smile for a second, complete with a flash of perfect white teeth. I loved it when he smiled. He looked so human, so approachable. So happy, albeit for brief, fleeting moments.

“Not even close,” he said. “This way, Ariana.” He led me to the other end of the deck and through an entrance that I hadn’t seen yet, which took us into a giant, beautifully decorated bedroom.

“This is your space,” he told me. “Make yourself at home.”

I looked around at the white shag rug that lay in front of a wood-burning stove, the king-sized bed, the art on the walls, paintings of landscapes displaying fantastical mountain ranges and worlds that made me want to escape into them. All of it seemed to have been custom-designed for me. It was a dream, this room. A dream that I’d never dared allow myself.

Still, a feeling of disappointment hit as I perused my surroundings. If I had a space of my own, that meant he had a space. It meant we weren’t sharing.

It meant I might be sleeping alone.

Stop analyzing. Maybe he’s only saying it out of respect. He doesn’t want to presume anything. He’s being polite.

“In the closet you’ll find a selection of dresses,” he told me. “Pick one for tonight. I like red, by the way.”

“Okay,” I replied. I made my way towards the doors and slid them open, only to find myself face to face with an enormous walk-in closet, which contained everything from gowns to sweaters to shoes and slippers.

I leafed through the dresses as Tristan stood by, towel wrapped around his waist, damp t-shirt still clinging to his amazing body.

After a few seconds I pulled a red silk number off the rod and held it up. It was low cut in front—more so than anything that I’d normally wear—but it was the most beautiful garment I’d ever seen.

“How fancy are we going for?” I asked.

“As fancy as you’d like. The night is ours, as is the location. We dictate everything.”

“Once again you’ve confused me, Wolfe,” I said. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Just try it on,” he said, slipping over and unwrapping the towel from my body. When he’d done that, he unclasped my bra and slipped it off, followed by my panties. Once again, the ache set itself in my core, my body urging me to take him for my own.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said as he backed away and stared. And for a moment, I actually believed him. It was impossible not to feel sexy, bathed in the heat of those electric blue eyes. I felt desirable, wanted.

I just wished I knew how long he’d be able to keep making me feel this way. Two days? Two hours?

All my life?

I slipped the dress over my naked body, turning around so he could zip up the back, then stared into the full-length mirror opposite us and gasped.

The garment fit me like a glove, hugging every curve in the best possible way. By some miracle, my breasts looked spectacular despite the lack of a bra, like the garment had built-in support for women with curves.

Tristan moved up behind me to peer at my reflection over my shoulder, his hand pressing into my lower back.

“I could eat you alive,” he said.

“Again?”

“Again.”

“Then it’s perfect.”

“Good. I’ll try to match your level of elegance and we’ll be off. I’d like to get started on the revelation of just who I am, Ariana, so you can decide if you want to keep me.”

“If I want to keep you?” I swung around to look at him, astonished by his words. He was giving the power back to me? Really? “Do you really think there’s a chance in hell that I’d reject you?”

He nodded. “There’s a very good chance, after tonight,” he said, a hint of sadness coating the words. “After you learn the truth.”

“Tristan,” I said, but I stopped short of going further. My heart was trying so hard to open itself, and apparently, so was his. I could see the vulnerability in his face, and my instinct was to pull him in. To look after him. To protect him from harm.

But it was a trap. It had to be.

He was trying to capture my soul in his fist and extract affection. I couldn’t give in to him, or it might kill me.

The only person I had to protect was me.