chapter 12
“THANK YOU, MRS. REEVES,” I say, hanging up the phone and making a note about my meeting with her tomorrow. After a long-ass day, I can finally go home. I pack up my desk and slide my heels back on from under the table. I’m definitely never wearing these shoes again because my feet are absolutely aching. I leave my office with my bag in hand, saying ’bye to Yvonne before walking to my car. When I see Tristan and Callum pull up, I wave. I guess it wasn’t just me who had a long day. I get into my car, but when I try to turn it on it doesn’t start.
Shit.
I realize the battery is dead because I forgot to close one of the doors properly. I rest my forehead on the steering wheel and close my eyes. All I want is a scorching-hot shower and my bed, maybe something to eat. I’ve done enough adulting today. My driver’s door opens and I turn my head, temple now on the wheel, and glance up at Tristan and Callum.
“Rough day?” Tristan asks, grinning.
“What makes you say that?” I ask, forcing a smile that I’m sure comes out more like a grimace.
“Come on, I’ll take you home,” he tells me, offering me his hand. I take it and let him pull me from the car. “I’ll call roadside assistance for you, they can change the battery.”
“I can wait here,” Callum offers, glancing at his watch. “I’m going to do a little work before I head home anyway.”
“Are you sure?” I ask him, handing him the keys. “I owe you big-time.”
He waves away my words and heads inside, while Tristan calls roadside. I go sit in Tristan’s car until he joins me. “Are you okay?” he asks me, studying my profile.
I nod. “Just a little tired today.”
“All right, let’s get you home then.”
I tell him my address and he puts it into his GPS. The drive there is quiet, but not uncomfortable, and I realize the reason I’m so grumpy right now is because I can feel a migraine coming on. I close my eyes and just rest. I hope he doesn’t think I’m being rude, but at this point my head is starting to hurt more with every second that passes. I must fall asleep, because next thing I know I’m being carried out of the car in his arms, my cheek pressed against his chest, my arms wrapped around his neck.
“What number is your apartment?” he asks me, gently rubbing my back as he steps onto the staircase.
“Twenty-eight,” I tell him, closing my eyes again.
When he comes to a stop, I lift my head, needing to grab the key from my bag.
“I’ve got it,” he tells me, pulling it out of my bag with one hand and unlocking the door. He closes it behind him, then carries me to my bedroom and places me on my bed. I cover my eyes with my arm, needing some aspirin and darkness. I feel my shoes being removed, and a gentle touch on my feet.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur to him. “My head hurts.”
“I can see that,” he tells me. “Do you have any aspirin here?”
“In my bag,” I say.
He’s at my side a few moments later with two pills and a bottle of water from my fridge.
“Thank you.”
“What else can I do to help?” he asks me, sounding concerned.
I lift my head to swallow the pills, our gazes joining. “Nothing, I just have to wait until it goes away. I haven’t had one in so long; I forgot how awful they are.”
He turns and closes my blinds, darkening the room, then sits on the side of my bed and stares down at me. “I don’t want to leave you like this.”
“The kids will be waiting for you,” I remind him, closing my eyes and blindly reaching out with my hand until my fingers touch his arm. “I’ll be fine; it’ll go away eventually.”
He brings my fingers to his lips and kisses them.
I all but stop breathing.
Then he kisses my palm, and then my knuckles, and that’s when I know I’m in trouble, because maybe Hunter is right.
He does like me.
I flutter my eyes open and look into his and say, “What are we doing?”
He drops his gaze. “I don’t know.”
“I didn’t say to stop,” I whisper, so with a lip twitch, he brings his lips back to my knuckles one more time, and then he lets go of my hand and places a kiss on my cheek, on my jaw, and then finally, a sweet, gentle one on my lips.
That’s all I remember before sleep and pain consume me.
I WAKE UP TO the sound of the TV on, my migraine gone, and still in my work clothes. Assuming Callie let herself in again, I sit up, rubbing my forehead, and walk into the living room. When I see Tristan there, casually dressed and smirking at the screen, I come to a stop. Remembering the events before I fell asleep, I walk to him and sit down next to him, leaning my head on his chest. A line has been crossed, and now it’s all blurred, but for once I just want to act how I want to with him, instead of restraining myself or feeling the need to “talk it out.” His arms come around me, and I breathe in his spicy scent.
“How are you feeling?” he asks me in a deep rumble. He pushes my hair off my neck, and I smile, unable to believe I’m here right now, in his arms, like we do this every day. Like there’s nothing wrong with us showing affection.
“Much better,” I tell him, studying him. “You went home and then came back?”
He nods and tucks my hair back behind my ear. “I sorted the kids out, had a shower and changed, then asked Anne if she can stay overnight. I didn’t want to just leave you like that, Kat. You were out of it.”
“Thank you for looking after me,” I tell him in a soft whisper, and I know we’re both playing a very dangerous game right now. I want him to kiss me—I mean really kiss me—but I don’t think we can come back from that.
“Don’t look at me like that, Kat,” he all but growls.
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to do everything I’ve been daydreaming about doing to you since the second I first laid eyes on you.”
I gulp and then boldly say, “What do you want to do to me?”
“Kat,” he warns, gaze dropping to my lips. “I don’t know what you want me to do here. Be strong and deny this thing between us, or be weak and let us both have what we want.”
“For once in your life, Tristan, be weak.”
That’s all it takes, because in a split second his lips are on mine, and his hands are in my hair as he pushes me back onto the couch, taking control, giving us both what we need. He tastes so good, like spearmint, and his mouth knows exactly what it’s doing against mine. I run my hands down his back, then lift up his T-shirt to feel the muscles there. How many times have I thought about touching him but never thought I’d get that chance? And now he’s in my apartment, kissing me, leaving me breathless. He presses a kiss to my ear, then moves down my neck, and I gently dig my nails into his back. Neck kisses are my weakness, and I’m about to beg him to do a whole lot more than just kiss me. His lips find my collarbone and explore before trailing back up along my neck to my lips once more.
“Tristan,” I plead, although I have no idea what for.
This is wrong, yet nothing has ever felt more right. I’ve never wanted anything more. My head is all cloudy, dazed, as if I’m already lost in him. I can feel how hard he is against me, but he does nothing other than kiss me, taking his time, learning me.
“Fuck, Kat,” he grits out, pulling away and looking down at me. The look he gives me is all-consuming. It’s filled with lust and want, those blue eyes telling me without words how badly he needs me right now. But when I look deeper, buried beneath all of that is uncertainty. If we had sex right now, would he regret it? Because I can’t think of anything worse than that.
He gets off the couch and starts to pace. I guess his conscience is starting to fight against the hardness of his cock.
“Tristan,” I murmur, sitting up and fixing my top, which was exposing the slight curve of my upper breast.
He sits down next to me and turns to me.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I don’t know what it is, but I haven’t thought about a woman so much since . . .”
Since his wife?
The air thickens, tension building between us at his words. I don’t know what he wants me to say, so I go with honesty. “I want you.”
There, I said it.
“I like that you can’t stop thinking about me, and I like it even more that you finally admitted it.” I reach over and rest my hand on his thigh, then glance up at him. “And I like your kisses and the way that you taste, and I want more.”
“I’m essentially your boss,” he exclaims, closing his eyes as my fingers start to wander. “I don’t think this is what Jaxon wanted me to be teaching you.”
“Who said you’d be teaching me anything?” I ask with a raised brow. “Maybe it’s me who can teach you a thing or two.”
He makes a growling sound deep in his throat, his eyes snapping open. I move to my knees in front of him and touch the button of his jeans. “Yes or no. Are you in, or are you out, Tristan?”
I don’t know who has more to lose here. Yes, he’s in the higher position, but his career is set in stone. Mine however isn’t; I’m a nobody, and if this got out it could ruin my reputation and career. How would it get out though? The only people who will know are us, and neither of us is going to say anything. Besides, he owns the firm. Well, half of it anyway.
He leans down, grabs my nape, gently pulling my head by the back of my hair, and kisses me.
It’s a possessive, deep kiss that sends tingles right to my lower belly.
I’m going to take that as a yes.