They all look at Tristan.
Inwardly, I smile.Has all his teethis a new one. I’m totally teasing him about that tomorrow.
“He’s not that hot.” Another woman in the group shrugs,and I laugh silently into my collar. I wish I could record this for Tristan just to take him down a peg when he gets cocky.
“Oh come on, Carrie.” The woman who has been quiet until now rolls her eyes and leans in. “I heard he’s crazy good in bed.”
Carrie scoffs.
“Seriously. My friend’s college roommate slept with him years ago. Just a weekend thing. She said he was insatiable.”
There’s a weird tugging sensation low inside me. My eyes go to Tristan.Insatiable? Tristan?He’s never brought anyone home. I’ve neverheardanything. Or seen anything. Maybe he’s getting laid elsewhere. He disappears a lot on business trips.
“What does that mean?” One of the women sounds intrigued.
“My friend’s friend said he’s the best she’s ever had. He kept her up all night. He told her not to wear clothes for the full twenty-four hours. Apparently it was a waste of time when he was just going to tear them off again.”
Heat spills through my stomach.
“God damn.”
“I know,” concurs the storyteller. “And, though keep in mind this friend loves to exaggerate, she said he’s a little kinky.”
“Kinky like spanking or what? Straight men are so vanilla.” The skeptic does not sound convinced.
I, on the other hand, feel weird. My insides mimic a carnival ride as I watch Tristan straighten from where he’s standing at the bar with Sarah and usher her toward the dance floor.
My attention is drawn by the line of his body as he bends to speak into her ear.Insatiable.The stupid word won’t stop echoing in my head.
I’ve never felt insatiable before.
But my best friend has. I press a palm to my stomach.
“Kinky like he likes a woman in control and he’s down for whatever. Apparently he literally told heruse me for whatever you want.”
“Holy shit,” one of the women whispers. “I want that.”
I want that too.The irrational thought spills through my head, and for a second, I feel a flicker ofsomethingwhen I watch Tristan.
I wonder, for a brief, scalding moment, what it might be like to have that with him.
I flatten my palm against the wooden railing.
“The woman he’s with tonight is some genius scientist. And he was dancing with a woman at his party last weekend, so I’m not sure you have a chance.”
A scoff. “That was his bodyguard, Jordan, not a potential spouse.”
My whole body prickles. I hold myself still and keep from looking at the women. Instead, I watch Tristan grin at Sarah. It’s hisfor-companysmile, as he calls it. It doesn’t reach his eyes. It doesn’t make his dimples pop.
“Stranger things have happened. My cousin was sleeping with his housekeeper for months.”
“Sleeping with, not marrying.”
“I thought she was pretty,” Jordan exclaims.
Thank you, Jordan.
Carrie scoffs. “Men like him don’t marry the help.”
