Bad Things

He moaned, and I kept rubbing, working down his back, slipping my hands to his sides. I could scarcely believe it, but he felt even better than he looked.



I was careful to keep my chest from touching his back as I reached around to rub his abs. It was only fair…and I was dying to know how they felt. I’d never touched six pack abs before.



I shut my eyes, leaning into him, as I kneaded at his hard flesh.



“Now you’re helping him put some on his belly, boo?” Mat shouted.



“Yeah, peeka,” I said, flushing hotly.



I stepped away from Tristan, handing him the bottle of sunscreen so he could finish putting it on.



I didn’t look at him, taking a few brisk steps, and diving into the pool.



CHAPTER NINE



We both made a good show of ignoring those brief moments of contact, but I couldn’t seem to get my mind off how good he’d felt, or how amazing it had felt to let him touch me.



We swam for hours, playing and frolicking in the water.



Tristan was great with the boys, throwing them around the pool just how they liked.



He lifted a giggling Ivan above his head before dropping him into the water.



Ivan resurfaced, laughing. He pointed at Tristan. “I bet you can’t do that to Danika!”



“You bet me?” Tristan asked.



“I dare you!” Ivan said.



Tristan arched one sassy brow, sidling over to where I was working with Mat on his backstroke. I yelped as he gripped his big hands around my waist, lifting me before I could think to put up a fight. He didn’t throw me, as he had Ivan, but lifted me high, thrusting his head between my legs, and settling me onto his shoulders.



I scrabbled for a handhold, trying to grip his too-short hair, finally settling for a hold under his chin. My thighs clenched hard around his neck.



“What are you doing?” I asked him.



“Ivan dared me.”



“You can’t say no to a dare, can you? Even if it comes from an eight-year old?”



He shrugged his shoulders, jostling me until I clutched him harder, screeching.



“I guess not,” he said.



“I dare you to drop her!” Ivan called, the little traitor.



Tristan didn’t hesitate, lifting me by the hips, holding me high over the water for a brief moment, then dropping me.



I came up sputtering and glaring.



He just smiled.



I started thinking hard about how to get even.



The sliding glass door opened, and Jerry leaned out. “I’m running errands, boys. Anyone want to join me? I might just be getting ice cream while I’m out…”



Mat was climbing out of the pool before Jerry had even finished. Ivan paused for a moment, considering. Finally, he chose ice cream, bolting out of the pool.



Jerry waved at us as the boys ran inside. “I’ve got them for the afternoon, so, have fun.”



I waved back, still plotting about how I could dunk Tristan under water. He was just so big…



Jerry ducked back inside, and we were left alone.



Tristan smiled at me, leaning back, and propping his arms up along the side of the pool. He sank low, watching me, and I saw my chance.



I glided over to him, trying hard to look perfectly innocent. I moved close, getting right up in his personal space.



He watched me, swallowing hard.



I slid my arms around his neck, brushing my hands over his hair. I leaned in very close, and his breath caught, but he didn’t stop me.



I straddled him, hooking my legs behind his knees.



“What are you doing, Danika?” he asked roughly, looking almost panicked, but still, he didn’t stop me.



“I’m daring you,” I began, gripping the backs of his massive arms, “to go under!”



I took his legs out from under him, yanking his arms away from the side of the pool.



He went under, but then again, so did I.



The maneuver also had the troublesome side effect of shoving his face between my breasts.



He didn’t come up right away, instead wrapping his arms around my waist and keeping his face right where it was. When he stood, he took me with him. I laughed as he began a wet motorboat between my breasts. I yanked at his short hair to no avail.



He finally tilted his head back, laughing up at me.



We both stopped laughing abruptly as he lowered me, and my body slid along his. There was a brief moment of contact between my sex and his. He was hard. We both gasped.



I pushed away, and he let me, taking a step back himself.



“Bad idea,” I said breathlessly.



“Yeah,” he agreed, running a hand over his wet hair.



“Guess we’re done here. You can shower first,” I told him, since we were sharing a bathroom.



“Thanks,” he said, lifting himself out of the water with one smooth move. He wrapped a towel around his hips as he moved toward the house.



“Just let me know when you’re done. I’ll wait out here.”



He was already at the door, sliding it open. He kept his back to me as he gave one short nod.



I stayed in the pool, trying not to panic. So we were attracted to each other. It didn’t mean anything. We were two grown-ups who could control ourselves.



I didn’t even want to have sex. Sex had never been good for me. For me, at its best, it had been a way to stay connected to someone that I wanted to feel intimate with. It was a sad fact that if I really wanted to get off, I had to take things into my own hands, and not just when I was single.



I had no idea why I couldn’t seem to keep my hands to myself when it came to Tristan. It was a new problem for me. I felt hot and bothered as I never had before. I decided to make a short appointment with my vibrator in the very near future. It could only help.



I swam laps, trying to blow off steam, and give Tristan enough time to shower and change.



I was breathless and exhausted when I stopped. I started as I saw that Tristan was standing over the pool, dry and dressed in a white T-shirt and some gray athletic shorts.



“Shower’s all yours,” he said, watching me, his expression blank.



“Oh. Thanks.”



I moved to get out of the water, and he met me at the steps with a towel.



“I’m going to go workout,” he said as I dried off.



I just nodded. He’d made good use of Bev’s home gym in the short week he’d been staying at the house.



“Feel free to come and join me.”



I nodded again. “I might. I need to wash the chlorine out of my hair, and do a few things first.”



“Sure,” he said, walking back into the house.



I couldn’t tell if he was out of sorts, or just in a quiet mood.



I showered, and changed into a comfortable T-shirt and some shorts. I started to head to the home gym when I changed my mind, turning around.



Maybe Tristan was on to something with his frequent showers.



With kids underfoot, I kept my vibrator at the back of the drawer in my nightstand, wrapped in a sock that was wrapped in a T-shirt. It was very well hidden, since I did not want to have a conversation about that with the boys.



I shut and locked my bedroom door, turned on some music, slipped out of my shorts and panties, and grabbed the neglected toy out of my nightstand.



I sprawled out on my bed, closing my eyes. I pictured Tristan as I set to work on myself with the small vibrating wand.



I pictured his massive arms as I worked my T-shirt up, cupping my breast. I visualized his sinister smile as I kneaded the flesh around my nipple. I was already wet. I thought of his golden eyes as I pushed the wand inside of me, shivering in pleasure as the vibrations rocked me. I pulled it out and moaned as I touched it to my clit, imagining his body, with those perfect abs, and that ripped chest. I remembered that brief touch of his erection against me, pushing the toy inside of me.



It usually took me a long time to relax and let go enough to come, but I wasn’t having any trouble just then, my race toward the finish faster than I could ever remember. I was letting myself relax into a climax when there was a knock at my bedroom door. I tensed.



“Danika?” Tristan called.



I closed my eyes, letting that deep voice wash over me.



“Yes?” I answered breathlessly.



“You coming?”



“Yes,” I nearly moaned.



“What’s taking so long?” he questioned.



“Almost there,” I gasped.



There was a long pause from the other side of the door. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rougher now.



I didn’t answer, something about that rough tone setting me off. I grabbed a corner of my blanket, biting it to stifle my moans as I climaxed.



“Can I come in?” he asked.



I heard him try the door.



“I need a minute,” I told him, just lying there, my heart still racing.



“Okay,” he said, almost too quiet for me to hear.



I was decent but flustered when I finally opened my door.



Tristan was just standing there, hands on his hips, eyes on the floor. He looked up, then craned his neck to look into my room.



“Everything okay?” he asked.



“Yes,” I said, mostly meaning it. I did feel more relaxed than I had.



“We working out?”



“Sure. Let me just tie my hair back, and grab my shoes. I’ll meet you there in a minute.”



He startled me by tipping my chin up with his finger.



I blinked at him.



“You look different.”



“What do you mean?”



He hummed low in his throat, and I about lost it. It was the sexiest noise I’d ever heard. “Fuck, Danika, I know that look. Were you taking your own version of a ‘shower’ in there?”



It took me a while to catch his meaning. My cheeks flushed red, but I was too stubborn not to meet his gaze squarely. I firmed my jaw, leaning away from his hand. “And what if I was? You think you’re the only one that needs a ‘shower’ every once in a while?”



He seemed taken aback by that. “No. I didn’t—I don’t think that. I’m sorry, you just caught me off guard. That’s…way too fucking hot. Excuse me.” He turned around and started walking back down the hall.



“We still on for a workout?” I called to his back.



“Hell yes,” he called back.



I grinned.



I was jogging on the treadmill for a good forty-five minutes before he said another word.



He dropped down from doing a long round of pull-ups that I pretended I wasn’t counting.



He approached the front of my machine, studying my face.



“So, um,” he finally spoke, clearing his throat, “how often do you need to, uh, take a ‘shower’?”



I sent him an arch look, but my heart was pounding harder at his question. “Is this a friendly conversation?” I asked, breathing hard, from the workout, and the question.



He smiled his most troublesome smile. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Of course it’s friendly.”



“No funny business?”



“None at all. Just pretend I’m one of the girls.”



Unbidden, my gaze ran down his body. By sheer force of will, I returned my eyes to his face. One of the girls, my ass…



“I don’t need to do it often,” I admitted. “Nothing like what you need to do. I go weeks without needing to. Hell, sometimes I go months.”