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He replies back instantly.
Tristan: Don’t worry about those. I want to see you.
The kids could wake up and see me heading down the stairs in only a short robe, but for some reason, that doesn’t faze me. They’ve never woke up in the middle of the night yet. When those kids hit the sack, they sleep, and they sleep hard.
The first couple of days, I left their bedroom doors open. I even sat up in between the two rooms in the hallway, fearful they’d wake up and I wouldn’t hear them in my room upstairs. They never did.
One night, Darcy asked me sleepily if I could close the door behind me, telling me I didn’t have to leave the nightlight on in the hallway. I knew from that moment on that she didn’t need a chaperone throughout the night and felt safe in her own home.
My heart’s beating out of control as I think about what I’m doing, but nothing but dirty thoughts are running through my mind.
I head towards the study, a room at the other end of the house. I’m relieved to see it has a lock on the door. Good, I don’t have to worry about the kids coming in and seeing me in my underwear.
My hand’s shaking as I enter the study and turn on the lights. It’s big, and I wouldn’t call it just a study. A large screen covers one wall, with a projector TV, and the sofa faces it. Wendy told me once that Tristan spends most of his time on that sofa, and hardly any time sitting behind the desk. I touch the glass desk gingerly, then switch on the Mac computer in front of me.
I’ve used the computer intermittently, just to see what the press is saying about Tristan. I don’t have social media profiles or anything, so that’s the only reason I’d have to use it.
Until now.
As Skype starts up, I make sure that I don’t have my video on. I want to
make sure that he’s alone, and my heart is racing out of control at the idea of seeing him.
Of doing this.
I don’t do things like this.
I’ve never had a hot and heavy relationship before, and I’ve only ever been with one other man. Compared to being with Tristan, he doesn’t even begin to count. He didn’t set me alight or make me burn with the need to feel his fingertips on me. Not the way Tristan does. Tristan has managed to leave me desperate for more, aching for him. Nothing else can compare to that.
I smile as Skype finishes booting up and I see him on the screen, waiting patiently for me.
“Faith, are you there?”
I smile, still not having the courage to put on the video.
“I’m here, but I’m just in my underwear.”
He chuckles, low and mischievous. “I know. I want to see.”
“Why?”
God, I sound like a child. I’m supposed to be being seduced by the man over Skype, but the frightened little schoolgirl inside me has a habit of coming out whenever I get nervous.
“Because I want to remember every inch of you.”
I take a deep breath, and I do something crazy. I slip out of my robe, letting it float silently to the floor, then turn on the video and wait for him to speak.
On the screen, his eyes grow wide. He can see me, partially naked, and it’s definitely got his attention.
I don’t have sexy underwear. Nothing that he’s probably used to seeing. Which only makes me feel even more bashful about doing this.
“Do you like what you see?” I whisper in a soft, seductive voice I don’t even recognize.
Where’d that come from?
I’m about to repeat the question when he growls, “Take it off.”
“I don’t have other clothes on.”
