He had the phone pressed to his ear by the time I had joined him on the street.
“Kane. Yeah, it’s me. Listen, can you pick me up? I’m at the station. No, I’m fine… He deserved it anyway. All right, see you in five… Oh, and Kane? Ingrid’s here.” There was a pause then, and his gaze flickered to me briefly. “She bailed me out.” Another pause. I couldn’t hear what Kane said but Tristian’s jaw flexed as he replied, “Drop it. And hurry up.”
He hung up and we waited in silence.
The evening air breezed by. I was glad I’d put on my sweater, because it at least kept some of the cold out, but I still shivered.
Tristian glanced at me. “Why didn’t you bring my hoodie?”
“I… I kind of left in a rush. Didn’t think about it.”
“You’ll catch a cold.”
Defensively, I said, “It was warm on the bus.”
Tristian pursed his lips. “I don’t have my jacket. How am I supposed to keep you warm now?”
I tugged at my sleeves. “I’m fine.”
He thought for a while, then he swooped in and drew me to his side. I let out a little squeak of surprise, but I didn’t push away. Not like I could anyway… He was so big and strong, and as he enveloped me at his side, the heady scent of man filled my nose. I closed my eyes, nestling closer, feeling the heat radiating from him.
His arm cinched around my waist, firm and protective. The potent scent of him, sweat, cedar, something darkly masculine—I let myself melt into him completely.
And God… the butterfly bombs were back.
Not fluttering anymore—detonating.
Hot little bombs going off beneath my skin, pooling low in my stomach, making it impossible to think about anything but how good it felt to be here, pressed into him, held like this.
“There,” he growled. “Better?”
I nodded shyly. “Th-thanks.”
He was quiet after that.
“…What were you worked up about?” I murmured.
He looked down at me, as if I’d broken some trance. “Hmm?”
“You were worked up about something,” I repeated. “You said that’s why you fought Brandon. Or at least part of it.”
“Oh. That.” He looked uncomfortable. “After our kiss… you ran away. That reaction tends to leave a guy kind of… discombobulated.”
I smiled. “That’s a big word for the tattoo artist,” I teased, and his hand found my hip and squeezed in response.
Then my smile began to fade. “I—I didn’t run because I didn’t want it.”
He looked down at me. “Then why did you?”
It was my turn not to be able to meet his gaze. “I… It was so sudden.”
“Itscared you?” he asked.
“Yes,” I admitted. “And no. I—I’ve never really…”
I really couldn’t meet his gaze now. Heat rose in my cheeks. Could I admit this? Ordinarily, never in a million years. But I wanted Tristian to understand. And so I forced it out:
“I’ve never… kissed anyone before.”
