TRISTAN WAS GRATEFUL to see Victoria. To hear her confession. To know he wasn’t the only one who’d been sucked into this intense, amazing thing.

He should be patient and stretch things out. He’d rather take his time with her. But there would be a lot of opportunities for that. Nights spent worshipping her. Days spent on the beach, soaking up the sun and each other’s attention.

Right now, he needed to feel her.

He tugged at her sweats, and she took the hint, raising her ass of the desk enough for him to yank them down her legs.

The elastic cuffs got caught on her shoes, but she kicked it all aside.

She cupped his erection through his jeans, drawing him past hard, and making him jerk against her hand.

Yeah, he wasn’t in the mood to draw things out tonight. He yanked down his zipper, and teased her opening with the head of his cock. Her heat was enticing, drawing him in. Shattering any restraint he had left.

He thrust inside her, and she pushed back. “You feel so good,” he groaned. Warm. Slick. His.

He tried to slow himself down, but being close to her made reason fly out the window.

He bit her neck, then her earlobe. “Play with yourself.” He wanted to feel her pussy clench around him when she came.

She took one of his hands and glided it under her shirt to cup her breast. When he brushed his thumb over her nipple, she tightened around his cock.

He lost himself in the light caresses against her breast. The teasing. Biting her neck and slamming inside her.

She wedged her fingers between them, stroking herself and grazing his cock.

When she came, she screamed. Fuck he loved that sound. It cut the final treads of his restraint. He moved his hands to her hips, driving into her. Orgasm built inside. Stars danced behind his lids when he came.

He slowed to a stop, struggling to catch his breath. “Fuck, I love you.”

“Easy to say after you get off.” Her giggle was musical.

He pinched her thigh, and she squealed. “I love you regardless,” he said.

“Even if I cut you off?”

He could tease back, but he wanted her to know he meant it. He claimed her mouth, soft and gentle, and then harder, before breaking away. “Even if. Always and forever. I love you.”

*

VICTORIA RESTED HER forehead against Tristan’s shoulder. The desk was cold under her butt. She didn’t care, though. As long as she was wrapped in his arms. “Are you done for the night?”

“If you weren’t here, I’d been digging deeper into Wolfram’s past. Mostly to keep me from thinking about you. So, yeah, I’m done for the night.” Tristan hooked his fingers at the small of her back, and traced tiny circles with his thumb.

“Let’s get out of here, then.”

“My condo is about five minutes away.”

She smiled. “Is this the mysterious for social gatherings only spot?”

“Not that mysterious, given the number of events it’s hosted, but otherwise yes.” He brushed his lips over hers, then stepped back. He grabbed her sweats from where they’d been discarded, and handed them to her. “It’s also my I don’t want to let go of you for too long spot for the night.”

She liked the sound of that. “Sounds perfect.” She tugged on her pants, then yanked on her sneakers.

He grasped her fingers as she hopped to her feet. From locking up the building, to the short drive to his condo, he only let go of her hand when absolutely necessary.

She seared the contact into her memories. Not because she thought it was her last chance—that wasn’t a concern—but this was one of those moments she never wanted to forget.

They reached his place, and he let them in. Victoria cast her gaze around an open floor plan that was literally black and white. Leather, glass, and stainless steel. The artwork could have come out of any modern art catalog.

A few months ago, she would have guessed this was what Tristan’s place looked like. Now, she couldn’t imagine him in such a sterile environment.

“What?” he asked.

She realized she was wrinkling her nose. “It’s so stuffy.”

“It’s just for tonight, and the bed is comfortable.”

A yawn snuck up on her, threatening to split her jaw and making her eyes water.

“Come on.” Tristan led her to the bedroom. “We can’t have you sleep deprived.”

The bedroom was just as catalog-cold, but she didn’t care. He sat her on the bed, then knelt at her feet.

He removed her shoes and set them aside. “Sweats next,” he said.

She complied, kicking the bottoms to the ground.

He kissed her fingertips. “Wait here for two seconds.”

“One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi,” she counted aloud as he turned around. He glanced back over his shoulder, brows raised. She couldn’t help her giggle.

Tristan rifled through a draw in the dresser, picked something, and returned to her. “Shirt off.”

She tugged the top over her head, and he handed her the T-shirt he’d grabbed. “This will be more comfortable to sleep in.”

“All right.” She pulled the clothing on. The faded knit was soft against her skin, and the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with fabric softener. She could get used to this real quick.

He discarded all of his clothes except his boxers, pulled her to lay next to him in bed, and pulled the comforter over them.

“Get some sleep.” He kissed the back of her neck.

She snuggled into his arms. “All right.”

This felt better, Right. Like something she’d been missing for too long, but could never name.

Her mind refused to be silent though. She tried not to stare at the clock next to the bed. Closed her eyes, but they popped back open a few minutes later. They had some pending solutions, but there were still so many things unresolved.

The most important one was far more personal.

“You can’t sleep.” Tristan’s voice was soft, his breath warm on her skin.

“I want to.”

“Talk to me. I’m listening.”

That made her smile. “We’ve never actually finished the baby conversation.”

“I’ve said how I feel about it. That hasn’t changed.”

“Right.” She summoned the conversation from the cabin. “Full involvement. Joint custody—”

“Maybe not that part. Or rather, I’d like it to be full time joint for both of us.”

It felt good to laugh. “That was convoluted.” She knew what he meant, but she wanted him to say it. This was one of those things there couldn’t be any misunderstanding about.

“You and me, living in the same house, as a couple, raising our child. Better?” he said.

She tugged his arm tighter around her. “Perfect.”

“You’re not going to argue?” he teased.

“I am if you want to live here.”

His snort was derisive. “Are you kidding? A toddler plus white carpets?”

“Not funny.” She didn’t care for the implication he’d put décor above a child.

“Kind of funny, but only because I don’t mean it.” He glided his palm along her stomach, touch light and tender. “Carpets can be replaced. Walls can be repainted. Furniture can be reupholstered. I don’t care where we live as long as the two of you are comfortable.”

Why had she fought him on this? Sure, at the time there were more bad memories than good, and she didn’t have any idea what he wanted, and she didn’t trust it was something as simple as to live my life, but now she got it. “Okay.”

“Is that an agreement to all of it?”

“Yes. Definitely. All of it.”

He glided his palm up to rest between her breasts. The gesture was as comforting as it was seductive. “What if I want a second kid, somewhere down the road?”

“You’re not getting any younger.” If he could tease, so could she.

“I’m not talking ten or thirteen years apart. More like two or three.”

She liked the sound of that. Not only the second child, but this long-term planning thing. “You’re making it too easy to say yes.”

“Good.” He pressed against her back. “Do you feel better?”

“Much. Thank you for listening.”

“Always.”

She had zero doubt he meant it.

*

ON SUNDAY, TRISTAN took Victoria back to her car, with the promise from her she was going home long enough to fetch clothes, and then she’d meet him at his place.

She Monday and Tuesday there as well. He liked knowing she’d be there at night when work was over. He could see that waiting for work to call her back, and lift her suspension, was driving her stir crazy.

One of those things he couldn’t fix, as much as he wanted to.

Wednesday night, they sat on his couch, her leaning into him as they watched the first Friday the 13^th movie.

“You ever make up with your boyfriend?” Victoria asked.

Tristan rolled his eyes at the phrasing, but he was smiling. “I didn’t tell you about that.”

“Ash did.”

He might gripe about the news being spread around. He was glad the women were friends, though. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“Call him now.” She untangled herself from his arms, and sat up.

“Fine.” He huffed, but he was already dialing Mischa’s number. He wandered away as he listened to the phone ring, aware of Victoria’s gaze following him.

“Алло.” Mischa’s tone was cheerful.

Maybe he didn’t need to apologize. They could gloss over things. Tristan couldn’t do that though. “You got a minute?”

“Depends.” Now the edge was there.

“I want to apologize. For what I said. For meaning it at the time.”

“Hm.” Mischa grunted. “In that case me too.”

“Just like that?”

“Eh. I was going to forgive you anyway. You sound like you mean it. No reason to drag the moment out.”

“Okay, so, we’re cool.”

“Sure.” Mischa’s cheer was back. “Though, I’ll probably bring this up at random inconvenient times in the future.”

Tristan didn’t have a reasonable counter for that. “I suppose that’s fair.”

He disconnected and joined Victoria on the couch again. The moment he was seated, she kissed him on the cheek, and rested against his chest. “All better?” she asked?

“Very much so.” Everything about this was better. Right. Having her here with him. The future that beckoned. Regardless of how much he’d planned, to reach this point, he never could have anticipated how wonderful this would be.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.