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“Yes. Sweet as she is, she isn’t loyal to me. She’s loyal to whomever signs her checks. She has to be. My mother knows about you now, and she’ll have her spies scrolling through every camera on the property trying to find a glimpse of you.”
“She won’t find any.”
Lila gave him a long stare. “You know this because?”
“Because I’m that good. I do manage quite well on my own.”
“Let’s hope you kept away from the cameras.”
“I kept away from the cameras,” Tristan said, rolling his eyes. “Besides, who cares if your mother knows you’re screwing someone? Isn’t that what highborn do?”
Lila reached for her militia boots, slamming the heels onto the floor. “My mother sees my womb as Randolph real estate, perhaps one of the most important locations. You don’t want her attention. Trust me.”
“I can handle it.”
“Can you handle the auction house? If I seem too enamored of someone right now, she’ll start to get suspicious. It won’t go well for either of us.”
“I don’t think you’re in any danger of seeming too enamored.”
“I don’t want to have a fight tonight, Tristan.”
“Maybe we should have one anyway.”
“Then fight by yourself. I’m tired, and I’m going home.”
“I don’t need to be protected from your family, you know. Stop using that as an excuse to slink away.”
“Slink away?”
“Yes. You’re always slinking away, and you’re getting your excuses mixed up. What will it be next time, I wonder?” Tristan knocked her boots away with a sweep of his leg.
Lila looked up, annoyed.
She wasn’t sure who reached for whom, but Tristan’s kiss wasn’t nice or sweet this time. It stung with anger and frustration all at once, nearly hurting with its ferocity. He tugged her down to the couch and whipped his clothes off between more nips, shoving her clothes away and tossing them on the floor.
There was no foreplay this time.
Luckily, Lila didn’t need any. She’d grown wet the minute he shoved her onto the couch.
He thrust into her, hard.
She didn’t even have time to wrap her legs around his waist before he thrust again.
Lila gasped as he kept going, grabbing at the couch cushions to steady herself, his unreadable eyes fixed on hers. Rather than happy or intense or love-stricken, they had completely blanked, but they fixed on her all the same.
She came after a dozen thrusts.
He did the same, gripping the back of the couch rather than her waist, biting back a moan.
They stared at one another awkwardly, as though neither of them quite knew what to do.
“Is this all you understand, Lila? Is this all you’ll ever want from me, and only when you’re in the mood?”
Lila nearly reached for her boots once more, but his cock flared the moment she looked at it. She no longer wanted to go home. Not yet.
Shoving him on the floor, she straddled him, rode him, but she wasn’t fucking him. Not really. She was fucking his incessant need to pull her close, to cling to her, to follow her. She was fucking his continued thrusts into her feelings. The fact that she’d not been able to enjoy their date for fear that a spy might snap a photo. The fact that she had to keep him a secret from her mother to keep him safe, and that he didn’t seem to appreciate her efforts. The fact that she had to wear some stupid hood in his shop to protect her identity from his people.
The fact that they were never, ever going to work out.
