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I tied off the condom, disposed of it in the trash can, then grabbed a couple of washcloths and started cleaning myself up, hurrying the process along so I could get back to my boy. I didn’t want the cum to dry on his hairless chest. Maybe next time, I’d lick it up myself . . .

In record time, I made it back to the bedroom, a warm, wet washcloth in hand to do my Daddy duties and clean up my sweet boy. Tristan’s eyes were barely open, but his head turned toward me when he heard me enter the room, and a lazy smile brightened his face. He stretched out a listless hand as if to reach for me, extending it from the side of the bed. I crossed the room quickly and took it with a smile. My heart was already filling with this man.

“Hi, Daddy,” he cooed.

“Hi, baby,” I replied with a smile. “May I clean you up?”

He nodded adorably. “Yes, please.”

“Good boy.”

Tris’s breath hitched at my words, and I held my breath for his reaction, hoping his post-orgasm brain wouldn’t send him running. When his smile widened, my whole body relaxed. “I was, huh? But like I said, no promises for the future.”

I smirked as I cleaned him up, but his words sunk in after a few moments, and my stomach clenched as the smile died on my lips. He’d said this was just for tonight, so I couldn’t help but wonder: Was tonight all we would get? Were we done before we could even begin?

I fucking hoped not. But was it even up to me?

Chapter twelve

Tristan

Sunlight broke through my sleep haze, and I lazily blinked my eyes open to an unfamiliar place. Then memories of last night came flooding in, and I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

Henry was a fucking god in bed. His massive dick was perfection—as my tender asshole could attest to. His blow job skills were next level, not to mention the rimming that made me see heaven. And his body, covered in just the right amount of tattoos and shaped perfectly as if he was sculpted specifically to fulfill my every wet dream . . . shit, the man either took really good care of himself or had amazing genes. Probably both.

I rolled on my side to face him, tucking my hands under my cheek as my smile softened. He could not possibly be this hot. He was facing me, and the light coming in the wide windows highlighted his relaxed tanned face and silver-flecked hair, making my stomach erupt in butterflies. An inked floral array danced over his collarbone and up his neck, starting at the bird I suspected was a raven and that I now noticed was sitting on a branch just above his right nipple. More tattoos in vines and leaves trailed down the parts of his right arm I could see, starting and stopping at intermittent intervals. A flock of simple birds adorned his left forearm, barely visible from where his hand was tucked near his head. Some might argue the designs were feminine, but on Henry, the effect was all man.

The sheet regrettably covered the rest of his body, but god, he was gorgeous. My only regret at the moment was that his eyes weren’t open so I could finally discover their color.

My stomach dropped. What would happen if his eyes did open? He’d try to talk, want me to stay, ask to see me again. Okay, that sounded conceited, but after everything that had happened last night, I knew where he stood. He’d made himself clear. Henry wanted me.

And if I was honest with myself, I wanted him, too. But I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready for any of it. Because staying meant going deeper. Staying meant talking about a relationship. Staying meant risking my heart.

I wasn’t ready.

I rolled over ever so slowly, lifting the sheet above me as I did so I wouldn’t disturb him, and carefully climbed out of bed. By the light streaming in through the wall of windows, it wasn’t hard to find my clothes. Once clear of the bed, I scrambled for them, yanking them on as quietly as I could.

I felt like absolute shit as I eyed Henry, still asleep in the bed, then turned my shirt right-side out and pulled it over my head. He didn’t deserve this. He’d confessed that he’d been hung up on me for years, and he deserved better than a man who was too scared to commit to anyone. He deserved better than someone taking off before he even woke up.

He deserved the world, and I didn’t have a clue how to give it to him.

I reached for my socks and shoes, sitting down on the floor near the windows to pull them on. As I tied up my ankle boots, I stared outside to the amazing view he’d promised to show me today. I hated that I couldn’t just wake up in his arms, revel in the afterglow, and let him hold me close as we watched the colors of the sunrise paint the sky in pinks and oranges above the park across the street, the city beyond, and the mountains in the distance.

But that was relationship shit, and I couldn’t do that. I’d already stayed longer than I’d ever allowed myself with a hookup.

No, not hookup. The word felt wrong.

But it couldn’t be anything else.

“Tris?”

My heart stopped at the sound of Henry’s sexy gravelly voice breaking the silence of the morning, and I froze for a moment before finishing tying my shoe. Once done, I took one last look at the bright cityscape, drew in a deep breath to gird myself, and pushed off the ground. After I’d steadied on my feet, I slowly turned to the man I wished could be my Daddy for more than just one night.

Henry blinked and pushed up to sitting, the sheets falling around his waist, exposing more of the myriad of gorgeous tattoos decorating his torso and arms and trailing down his sides. I swallowed around the lump in my throat as I saw realization dawn in his expression. I couldn’t miss the hurt in his eyes, though it was gone so quickly I almost convinced myself I’d imagined it. I hadn’t. “Where are you going?”

Fuck. I didn’t want to hurt him, and I could hear the pain in his four short words. This was why I never got involved with anyone. We would only break each other’s hearts. I must’ve been out of my mind with lust last night.

Right, Tris, that was only lust last night.