“No,” she gasped, trying to wiggle away from his grip and force him against her.
“Yes.”
“But I want—oh, God!”
Her slick flesh was heaven under his tongue. Growling deep in his throat with pleasure, he licked and sucked her, nibbling on her swollen clit, bringing her to the hard edge, then backing off. She begged and pleaded, twisted underneath him for more, for less, caught up in the brewing storm neither of them was going to escape.
Finally he rose up between her legs and fit himself with a condom. Grasping her knees, he pressed inch by inch inside her, needing to do this slow so he’d never forget a second. Her tight flesh squeezed him mercilessly, fighting his entrance, but he wouldn’t be denied. When he was seated deep inside, he cupped her cheeks.
“Look at me.”
The slight flare of panic in her green eyes faded under the sting of physical need, a gaping hole that demanded to be filled. She arched up, bringing him deeper, and clutched his shoulders. “I’m scared.”
His heart shredded at her broken honesty. He kissed her slow and long, until her muscles relaxed and she melted against him, then rested his forehead against hers. “I am, too.”
Understanding passed between them.
He moved.
The ride was a contradiction of their foreplay; a slower slide toward each edge, his gaze locked on hers, not allowing her to hide from any of it. The lust changed to something else, something deeper, and he let himself go and followed the path, until the tension tightened to a fine line, and they gripped each other in a frenzy, needing the release. His hips thrust faster, forcing her to the limit as he pinned her tight against the cushions, his fingers gripping her legs, hitching her higher, going deeper, until—
She broke open and screamed his name. With a rush of heady satisfaction, he watched her face shatter with her release, never slowing his pace, then let himself follow.
Brutal waves of pleasure seized his body, flooding his veins with a rush of sensation so intense he lost all control. He let it overtake him and hung on, eyes squeezed shut as he finally collapsed. He rolled to the side to keep from crushing her, his palm on her stomach, his head next to hers. Legs still entwined, they caught their breath, letting the air dry the sweat from their skin.
Silence settled. He stroked her gently, letting her gather her thoughts. He’d always known what she was thinking before. She’d been transparent to him, an open, beautiful book only he was allowed to read. Now life had done its job, and she was hidden in shadows.
Still, he understood. He’d need to earn his way back. Showing her how good they were in bed had only been the first step. The more time he spent with her, the more it proved what he already suspected.
They still belonged to each other.
“Are you going to freak out?”
She groaned, shutting her eyes and shaking her head back and forth. He enjoyed the view of her ripe breasts swaying with her movements, strawberry nipples ripe for a taste. “Yes. What have we done?”
“We had great sex. I don’t regret it.”
“I’m still in shock. We just kissed, and now we’re naked on my couch like a pair of crazed, hormonal teens.”
“Awesome, isn’t it?” He kissed the line of her jaw, smoothing back her tangled hair. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
She opened her eyes and turned toward him. “Stop. This is bad. You need to go home. I need to think.”
“That’s exactly what you don’t need.” He stood up and discarded the condom. Then he lifted her from the couch, carrying her into the bedroom. Like the other rooms, it held purple and silver pillows. The furniture was creamy white, and the walls were a dark plum, offset by silvery accents. Pretty and feminine, yet comfortable. He pulled back the quilt and settled her in.
“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him with an adorable type of suspicion.
He shucked off his pants and climbed in beside her. “Making sure you don’t kick me out before I’m done with you.”
He watched her shudder in reaction to his words. Delighted by her response, he traced a finger down her arm and watched goose bumps pop up. Oh, yeah. She was still into him big-time. “We’re done. There’s no more. You have to go.”
He laughed, trailing his fingers over to stroke her breasts, watching her pretty nipples pinch. “I will. In the morning. We’ll talk about whatever you want then. You can analyze this, and yell at me, and deny this whole thing tomorrow. But I’m asking for tonight. I still ache for you, Syd.”
Her lips trembled. A sheen of tears misted her eyes, and her voice was fierce with anger. “Damn you. You’ve ruined everything.”
She reached for him, and he kissed her, swallowing the last of her denials, knowing he only had a few more hours to prove she was meant to be his.
chapter eleven
What had they done?
The room was quiet and shrouded in darkness. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching his muscular chest rise and fall with each breath he took. Even in sleep, his hair was perfectly mussed, combed by her fingers, the thick waves falling over his high forehead. His full lips were slightly parted.
His beautiful face reminded her of an angel at rest. His body reminded her of a sinful, delicious banquet she wanted to feast on.
The purple sheets had fallen to his waist. Her gaze took in each defined pec, his toasty-golden skin sprinkled with dark hair, leading down his flat, hard abs and disappearing from her sight. But she already knew what lay beneath the sheets. She’d touched him. Tasted him. Bitten him. Licked him. Rediscovered every glorious inch with a greed that still surprised her.
Dear God, what had they done?
She stumbled toward the window. Nerves shredded, on the verge of a panic attack, she tugged at the sash until it opened up halfway with a pop. She leaned over and sucked in a great lungful of cool air, pressing her palms flat to the glass pane.
The terrible truth twisted and writhed inside the darkest of places inside, wailing to finally escape.
Becca.
She moaned, and the memories attacked her like vicious ghosts in a haunted house.
She’d been able to deal with all the challenges of being a single mother because she was the one responsible for Becca’s happiness, and that was her only goal in life.
But now everything had changed.
Because Tristan was in her bed, and in her life.