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Tris nodded. “Yes, but given how important porn was to your self-discovery, I say we create our own porn scene. You are sleeping with a porn star.”

I snickered. “That is true. What did you have in mind?”

Tristan grabbed my hand and started toward the stairs. “I’ll show you once we get to your bedroom.”

Turned out, Tristan wanted to give me his own camboy show from my bed while I recorded it on my phone. “For when I’m not around” was what he claimed.

I wasn’t going to argue with that. But that didn’t mean I didn’t clean him up with my tongue when the camera stopped recording. Or that he didn’t suck my soul from my dick with his perfect mouth and swallow every last drop.

Chapter twenty-three

Tristan

I’d been at Henry’s house for over two days now, and every hour had been bliss. I’d convinced him to fuck me again yesterday, and though my hole was sore as hell, he’d performed the most perfect aftercare—specifically a bath in his opulent jetted tub and repeated applications of the most soothing of balms—and my heart had started to get attached to his.

As if it wasn’t already.

Of course, that terrified me. Giving myself to another person, letting them hold my heart and promise not to break it required a level of vulnerability I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with. But then he’d smile at me, and the angel on my shoulder would convince me it was all worth it.

He was worth it.

But we hadn’t just had sex the whole weekend. We’d watched movies in the theater he had set up in the basement, read side by side on the oversized sectional in his custom two-story library, cooked together in his well-appointed kitchen, and snuggled in front of the fire on the second floor as the rain turned colder than normal for this time of year. We even set up his fake Christmas tree by said fire—because reusable trees lasted longer, were less messy, less of a fire hazard, and didn’t require watering—and decorated it and the rest of his house with the plethora of holiday décor he’d had stored in his attic. The weekend was just about as close to perfect as I’d ever imagined.

But by Sunday afternoon, a sense of dread was starting to fall over me, my impending departure weighing on me heavily like the worst Sunday Scaries. I knew we needed to get back to our normal lives, but I wanted to live in the lust-filled bubble of togetherness we’d made for ourselves. We just worked, whether it was sex or ordering takeout or simply discussing everything from the important to the mundane. I didn’t want it to end, but the pit in my stomach told me it would, and soon.

So after a late-afternoon solo shower, I was barely surprised when I overheard him on the phone in his kitchen as I padded silently down his back stairs, staying out of sight.

“. . . can’t believe you’re asking me this, Carl.”

Silence followed as my heart leapt into my throat. Who the fuck was Carl? My logical side knew that Henry was too busy at the bar to be able to have a guy on the side—and we had just gotten together officially this weekend—but my emotions were swirling with all the devastating possibilities.

“I can’t just leave to help you, I—”

More silence. My breathing shallowed as my head started to swim. Was Henry going to leave? Was he going to kick me out so he could go be with this Carl?

Then: “Fine, I’ll come over tomorrow.”

Henry let out a heavy sigh at the unheard response.

“Fuck, Carl, fine. I’ll be over in an hour.”

My hand gripped the wooden railing so hard my knuckles turned white. Was he leaving to go fuck this Carl even though he said he wanted to be my Daddy? On our weekend together? He was fucking leaving me?

Didn’t I mean anything to him? How could I when he was choosing someone else over me?

Silently, I hurried back up the stairs before he figured out I’d heard everything. I suspected he’d be heading up to his bedroom to get dressed, so I had to hurry if I was going to get out of here without being seen. Thank fuck I’d put my own clothes back on after my shower since I’d worn his all weekend. I was ignoring the fact that he’d been sweet enough to wash them for me.

Panic licking at the back of my throat, I rushed into his bedroom, hurried to grab what I needed—including the hoodie Henry had snagged from Mix It Up for warmth, which I’d return soon—and headed down the front stairs, hoping we’d miss each other.

Thankfully—or regrettably, I couldn’t decide—I made it out the front door before he even knew I’d left.

Once outside, I hurried down to Mix It Up and stepped inside before considering my next move. The rain was freezing my skin through the hoodie, and I needed the leather jacket I’d checked at the door when I’d come last Thursday to be able to get home without catching a cold. Hopefully I could pick it up without having to pay the cover charge.

Gio was working the front when I walked up. His wide eyes told me I was a mess—I probably looked like a drowned rat.

“What’s up, Tris?” he asked as I stepped under the wide awning in front of the door.

“Hey, Gio. I left my coat here on Thursday; could I grab it? I’m just heading home.”