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“What was your plan, Tristan?”
“What do you mean?”
“If Robbie hadn’t died, what were you going to do?”I hold my breath waiting for his answer—and fearing I already know it.
“Nothing.”
My heart breaks a little at the idea of this man being alone forever.If there’s anything I’ve discovered over the past several weeks, it’s that Tristan is the ultimate boyfriend.He’s caring, considerate, passionate, and fun.The idea of all of that being stuck inside of him kills me a little.Unable to stay away from him for another second, I lean forward.He meets me halfway, and when our lips connect, it’s like fireworks going off behind my eyes.I’m hungry for him in a way I didn’t know was possible, and I want to fill all the empty spaces in his heart, take away all the pain and loneliness he’s held silently for years.
I try to deepen our kiss, but he gently pulls away.His eyes are hazy with lust, but he’s thinking more clearly than I am because he’s actually able to put words together.
“The movie’s about to start.”
I don’t care about the movie anymore.I just want more of him.I like the way he makes me feel—carefree, cared for, and bursting with desire.But I know he takes great care in choosing our dates, so out of respect for him, I get comfortable in my seat and turn toward the big screen.
I’m grateful I’ve already seen this movie a million times because I spend the entire time hyperfocused on Tristan—his breathing, his body, the way his eyes dart over to me and always land on my lips before he snaps them back to the screen in front of us.
By the time it’s over, my body is humming with how badly I want to kiss him again and how desperate I am for him to touch me.He drives us back to my house, kisses me deep, and then like every night, stares deeply into my eyes before placing a tender kiss on my forehead.He takes a step away, but I grab his shirt and pull him back.
“No.You don’t get to walk away from me tonight,” I say before pulling him back into another soul-stealing kiss.He squeezes me tight against him, and when I open the door and pull him inside, he doesn’t protest.
I kiss him again, afraid if I stop kissing him he’ll try to leave.He can’t leave me.Can’t he tell I’m burning up inside and only he can relieve this crazy fire he’s started?
He groans into our kiss and then it’s like the beast is unleashed.His hands are everywhere—my hair, my neck, my breasts—before they slide over my ass and he lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his hips.The steel bar of his erection between us is perfectly situated right where I need him most, and my body instinctually rocks, my hips gyrating against his erection to try to relieve some of this ache he’s built in me.
“I need you,” I say, my lips barely separating from his.“Did you see what you needed to?”
He pulls away, confusion all over his handsome face.
“You look at me every night like you’re searching for something in my eyes, and when you don’t see it, you give me that forehead kiss I’ve come to both love and hate, and then you leave.”
“Because you let me.”
He says it so matter-of-factly.As if I was supposed to know all it would take to keep him was to make him stay, todemandhe stay with me.
I’m an idiot.
