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The sense of intimacy grows, as though we’re inside a bubble, just the two of us.
“What are you thinking about?” I blurt out the first words either of us has spoken in a long time.
He looks at me, jaw tight, his expression severe. For a second I think he’s going to tell me he can’t do this. It’s gone too far already.
“I’m thinking about you,” he growls.
We pause, standing beneath a large tree, its branches adding to our sense of aloneness. But we’re never going to be alone again, not when we have each other, not when we know, no matter what, it’s always going to be Triston and Tamia.
Careful, a voice hisses. Enough.
But I can’t be careful, and it’s never going to be enough, not with Triston.
He takes both my hands in his and squeezes. I can feel the strength in his touch, the power evident in his tight hold on my hands.
“I have to tell you something,” he says hesitantly, his grip getting even tighter. “It’s going to sound insane. But I can’t hold it back anymore. I feel like there’s… I don’t know, an ocean inside of me. Goddamn. This is all coming out wrong.”
I reach up and touch his face. I don’t think about it, which is good, because I’d probably convince myself out of the gesture. I cradle his cheek, with something like love brimming within my heart.
Love, so soon? Is it even possible?
I don’t know. I’m not sure of anything where Triston is concerned.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“You might regret saying that.” He laughs without humor, and then, just as quick, the laughter dies. “The truth is – and I can’t believe I’m saying this – but the truth is I’m scared.”
“Scared?” I whisper.
“Of what will happen if I tell you.”
“Tell me what,” I say, ignoring the shiver of worry crawling up my spine.
Maybe this is about another woman. He could have a girlfriend. But he said he cared about me. I heard him. I didn’t freaking imagine it.
“Triston?”
He removes his hand from mine, wrapping his arms around me and pressing me close. I can feel the urgency in his gesture, in the way his body trembles, further convincing me this isn’t about somebody else.
It can’t be.
He leans down, his face inches from mine, his breath stroking my face, caressing my cheeks. “I need you, Tamia. And I don’t just mean for one night. Or one week. Or one month. Or even one year. I mean I need you… forever. I mean I want you as mine. You belonged to me the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Triston
She stares up at me, her mouth open in shock. My heart won’t stop pounding, my blood rushing in my ear. I feel lightning struck, frozen in place. Waiting for her response.
She continues to stare wordlessly. But I can’t stop, not now, not even when I see that she might want me to. I need to tell her. Force the words out.
My momentary panic is overridden by the beast inside, taking control. The primal possessiveness and the animal need to take her, own her, impregnate her… it holds its grip on me firmly.
I grip her hips, sinking my fingers in, something I’ll never get tired of. “The first time I saw you, I knew I had to make you mine. I knew I had to take you, to be with you as our child grew in your womb. I knew I had to claim every single inch of you. That’s what I’ve been trying to hold back… for weeks, Tamia, I’ve tried to fight this.”
I stop, my temples pulsing, my jaw aching, everything feeling like it’s ready to explode. The beast inside me is ready to rip through me and take her.
“But it’s impossible,” I go on. “I can’t fight it. I can’t even try. Every second I spend with you, I become more convinced. You’re the woman I’ve been looking for my entire life, without even knowing I was searching for you. You’re the woman who’s going to bring my children into this world. You’re the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”
She gasps, but I cut her off with a kiss.
I can’t not kiss her.
This might be the last chance I get.
As our tongues clash, I become addicted, as our lips fuse, I wonder what she’s going to say once the kiss ends.
Maybe she’ll be nice about it. Maybe she’ll softly lay her hand on my chest and gently tell me that she doesn’t feel the same. She’s sorry. Perhaps she’ll even say she wishes she did.
Or maybe she’ll get angry at me for spoiling what we have, yell that I should’ve kept these crazy feelings to myself.
Finally, the kiss gradually ends.
Tamia stumbles back, as though reeling from the force of the affection, the closeness, and my revelation all at once.
