Page 63 of Apparently, I’m A B!tch

“This isn’t funny, Tristan,” I claimed, not turning back around, wishing I didn’t feel my skin prickle at the thought of being his “Fantasy Nikki”. Did Tristan really fantasize about me? Or was he joking just to get under my skin?

His footsteps padded from behind me and I squeezed my eyes shut until he said, “It’s okay. I’m decent.”

I opened my eyes to find him wrapped in a low-slung towel that emphasized the spot where his carved V-line met the beginning of his groin and I groaned. “That is not decent, Tristan.”

He shot me a dimpled smile, and my insides melted at the sight. “It’s as decent as I’m going to get right now.” He quickly glanced at his oven, covered canvas and rumpled bed, his expression shifting. “Are you here because… did you want to talk?”

My mouth went dry. I did not want to talk. Seeing him like this, knowing I could reach out and touch his hard, muscled body… he made me so wet. All I wanted was to grab his hand and put it between my thighs so he could feel the effect he had on me.

But I cleared my throat and crossed my arms, glad that my hardening nipples couldn’t be seen under my suit jacket. “We need to. I hate being angry at you like this.”

His lips tightened and he looked to the side, gesturing for me to sit on his bed. I shook my head. “If I sit there, the last thing I’m going to think about is working things out with you.”

He bit his lip and let out a laugh. “I was kind of hoping for that.”

“Tristan,” I pleaded. “I need to know why you lied to me.”

He reached a hand behind his head, scratching at his still-damp hair, the movement tightening the muscles along his torso. I almost melted into the ground. Still standing, I crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs together, hoping for some relief.

How could I have gone nine years ignoring this man’s body?

How could I have gone home to my apartment, alone and sane for all those years, instead of rabidly rolling into my sheets, touching myself with the goal of taming this aching need to feel him?

“I wasn’t lying, Nikki. I really did end things with Rochelle.” I forced myself to focus on his words and tightened my lips, wanting to give him a chance before I called bullshit. “Look, the day you came in crying because of Harvey, Rochelle was there.”

I remembered seeing a brunette that day. She was the same one who came in the day before, the day when Uncle Henry came to visit and I insulted the renovations he had done to turn Henry’s into Extra Shot.

“She asked me to dinner so we could talk about the painting of my Emi, and I thought maybe she was just trying to get some money out of me for valuation services. I went, but only because I thought the dinner was strictly business. She offered me the chance to go with her to gallery showings, and then she would introduce me to her clients and the curators she knew. All I had to do was be the man on her arm during those events. She didn’t ask for anything else, and I thought, with all the weirdness between you and me, it’d be stupid to turn down an offer like that.

“I agreed, and after that first dinner, she and I made plans to meet at an event… but things between us–” He gestured between him and me. “–got worse. After you gave me that shirt and found out about Rochelle, you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. What was I supposed to do? It drove me crazy knowing you were mad at me because I had to spend time with a woman I didn’t want. I had to make sure you knew I was still…”

I smiled wryly at him, “My friend?”

He put his hands on his hips and let out a depreciating laugh while all my nerves stood on end as I watched him. My lip must’ve been bleeding by now, I was biting it so hard.

“Yeah. That was what I meant to do. But we haven’t been alone like that in so long, and I couldn’t control myself. I had to kiss you. Once I knew you felt the same way… I don’t use people, Nikki, you know that about me. I just kind of stumbled into this weird fake arrangement with her. After we kissed, I wanted to end my plans with Rochelle, but then Carlos let me know about her connections. If I ended things with a phone call or a message, she might’ve gotten so pissed that she’d blacklist me from the art community altogether. So I committed to my original plans with her, but only so I could tell her in person that I couldn’t do it anymore. I thought if she knew I was in love with someone else–”

“In love?”

He looked at me with surprise, came close and pulled me against his still damp chest. My skin flared white-hot at feeling his body flush with mine. I was completely stunned as he stared down into my face, his dark eyes serious and unwavering.

“I’m in love with you, Nikki. I’ve been in love with you for years, but it took this awkwardness between us for me to admit it to myself. When I thought we would finally have a chance together, I went to that event to end things with Rochelle.”

“You love me?” I breathed out, focusing on those three words, all else fading as I dared to smooth my hands along his biceps, across his shoulders, locking my fingers against the back of his neck.

With a relieved smile, he said, “Of course I do. Wasn’t that obvious?”

He bent and swept his lips over mine, before taking them into his mouth and kissing me with a firmness that had my legs shaking. He slid his hands down my waist until he gripped my ass and pulled me closer. His cock was against me, already twitching, begging to be touched.

He breathed against my lips, “Can’t you feel how badly I want you? This–” He pressed his erection into me, drawing a gasp out of me and sending shivers down my spine. “Is yours. I’d chain you to this bed if I could. And I’d feed you shaabiyat, then make you come, then I’d do it again and again for the rest of our lives.”

I wanted that so badly my blood pulsed in my ears at the thought. He kissed me again and slid his hands to the front of my slacks, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp and pulling the fabric down until I felt the air of his room against my skin.

His tongue teased mine, making me grip his shoulders as he tasted me, then he pulled back to suck on my bottom lip before biting it oh so gently. It jolted the wetness between my thighs into a hot, throbbing ache. He put a confident amount of focus on unbuttoning my shirt, his movements slow and deliberate, but I wanted more.

I thrust my jacket off, pulled off my shirt and jerked off my trousers with no patience, pausing only to let Tristan unhook my bra and slide the fabric against my arms. He broke our kiss to look down at me, and the air between us was charged. He slid his hands across my breasts and ran his thumbs over my nipples, dragging a moan from me that stole my breath.

“Such pretty, perfect, breasts. I bet they taste even better without butter,” he whispered, lowering his mouth as I let out a weak laugh.