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His hopeful, scared expression breaks my heart and makes it swell. “Perfection isn’t something I expect from you, or anyone in my life. You’re allowed to be imperfect. I expect you to be the best version of yourself every day that you can be. Some days will be great, some won’t. Sometimes we’ll make mistakes. But when that happens, we talk things through and figure out how we can do it better next time. We just don’t shut down, or bail, or turn into a grade-A asshole.”
“I’ve done that a lot to you. Shut down and turned into an asshole,” he says quietly.
“You have, but I’ve also allowed it. I’ve accepted being second best for a long time, and I won’t do that anymore because it’s not good for me, or us. And moving forward, I won’t let you get away with that shit. But I also won’t walk away when it gets tough, and I won’t let you do that either. Sometimes it’ll be uncomfortable and scary. But I want to try to make this work if you do.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me another chance?” His expression is so uncertain, I almost want to hug him.
I smile and nod. “Sweet, dirty boy, I love you.”
His eyes flare with surprise. “Really?”
“Really.”
“You love me?” He tries out the words, like they’re new to him. “Even when I’m an asshole?”
“Even when you’re an asshole. But we’ll work on that, and on you being less of a dick when you’re feeling vulnerable.”
“That’s going to take some practice, but I will do whatever it takes to keep you.” He blows out a breath. “Roman gave me a name of a therapist, and as much as I hate talking about fucking feelings, I won’t risk losing you again. I’m working on getting an appointment.” He tips his head. “You really love me?”
“I really love you.”
He shifts on the couch, and suddenly he’s kneeling on the floor between my thighs. He cups my cheek in his palm. “Is this okay?”
“It’s okay.”
“I love you so fucking much, Bea.” He leans in and rubs his nose against mine. I almost melt into the couch. It’s so sweet. His thumb strokes along the edge of my jaw. “I love how thoughtful you always are. I love your kindness, and your intelligence, and your drive.” He kisses me softly. “And I love how patient you’ve been with me while I try to figure out how to deal with all these fucking feelings.”
I laugh, and he grins.
“And I love the sound of your laugh. I want more of that. I want to be the reason you smile. And I never want to be the reason you cry again. It breaks my fucking heart.” He nuzzles into my hair and breathes me in. “I want to take care of you, give you all the things you deserve. I want to make you happy.” He bites the edge of my jaw, and I whimper. “I want to make you feel good in all the ways that count.”
He covers his mouth with mine, and I wrap my arms and legs around him, hooking my feet behind his back. His tongue sweeps my mouth, and he groans. He grips my ass, rising in one smooth motion.
At the same time, our apartment door flies open. “Peggy honey, I brought you donuts from your favorite pl—” Roman comes to an abrupt halt. “Oh shit.”
“Hammer’s already at your place and she’s staying the night,” I tell him. This isn’t the first time he’s let himself in without knocking.
“Right. Good call. I’ll knock next time.” He leaves the way he came, his face an exceptional shade of red.
Tristan crosses to the door, puts on the safety, then carries me across the apartment. He kicks the door to my bedroom shut behind us and climbs onto the bed with me wrapped around him like a koala.
He tears his mouth from mine long enough to ask, “No one else is going to barge into the apartment uninvited tonight?”
“No. Hammer will text and wait for a reply before she comes back.”
“Good, because I want to show you exactly how much I love you tonight.”
He comes in for another kiss, but I put a hand on his chest. “Can I make a request?”
“Absolutely.”
“I know we just did the whole love-declaration thing, and maybe there’s an inclination to, you know, make love, and I definitely think there’s a time and place for that. But I’d rather you turn me into a sex pretzel and do dirty things to me tonight.”
One side of his mouth curls up in a salacious smile. “Careful what you wish for, little Bea.”
“Fuck me like you mean it,” I taunt.
He folds back on his knees. “Strip.”
Everything below the waist clenches, and my nipples peak. I yank my shirt over my head and toss it on the floor. I struggle with the button on my jeans, especially when Tristan lazily discards his own shirt and unzips his pants. I shimmy out of mine as he slides his hand into his boxer briefs. I kick my jeans off and work on unfastening my bra. It takes two tries because my hands are shaking. Tristan frees his erection from his boxers and gives it a slow stroke as I push my panties over my hips.
