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“Bye.” June waved at us as they walked away.
I smiled and looked at Tristan; he was still staring at them. He looked disconnected from this world. His expression was sad and angry as his smile vanished and his eyes seemed tense.
“My feet are killing me. I think we’ve seen enough,” I said, holding his hand, hoping to break him out of his thoughts.
He turned to look at me with an absent grin.
“Can we leave now?” I asked, almost losing my balance on my heels from my sore feet.
“Sure.”
He called Morris when we made it outside. The car arrived. We entered and left. I took off my heels and placed my feet on Tristan’s lap, begging for one of his magical massages. I leaned back on the seat and sighed in content as his callous fingers wrapped around my left foot.
“Sorry I forgot to get you something to eat, Morris. We can stop by a diner, and you can—”
“Thank you, Miss Simpson, but I’m not hungry,” Morris cut in.
I leaned into Tristan, resting my head on his shoulder. I was exhausted.
“Thanks for tonight. I had fun,” I whispered. I closed my eyes and slowly drifted to sleep.
I woke up when I felt someone lift me up. I opened my eyes and found Tristan carrying me in his arms into the house. I snuggled into his chest and closed my eyes. I opened them again when he placed me on the bed.
I stared at him as he pulled the duvet to cover me.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, keeping his distance from me.
I blamed him for looking so hot, standing there in that suit with four buttons undone, his tie loosened, and his sleeve rolled up. I wanted this image of him to be engraved in my brain forever.
That’s all I’m wishing for, Godmother.
“A kiss,” I said in a soft tone.
He smiled and moved to the bed. He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss. I pulled him back when he tried to pull away. His lips met mine in an intense kiss. I dragged him to the bed, not breaking the kiss.
“I have been dying to kiss you all night,” he whispered against my lips, coming down for more.
His tongue slipped in, and his fingers were in my hair, gripping and pulling. My leg draped over his waist, and his other hand wandered up my thigh to my hip.
I didn’t know how long we lay there, just making out and our hands roaming every inch of skin we could find, but it was the best feeling after a long night.
“It’s late. You need sleep,” he said breathlessly as he withdrew, his thumb caressing a spot in my neck.
“Okay,” I rasped, leaning closer, and like a magnet, our lips joined again in an aching kiss.
I brushed my fingers through his hair and skimmed them down to his chest. My fingers relishing every pec and taut muscle beneath his shirt I had managed to unbutton.
“Chloe,” he groaned.
“Hmm?” I smiled against his lips.
“I could do this all night, but you look tired,” he whispered, tracing my bottom lip.
“Don’t leave yet,” I said, snuggling closer, burying my face in his neck. My body relaxed, and I searched for sleep in the pool of darkness that engulfed me.
“Good night,” he whispered, stroking my hair, his arm cradling me to his body.
The next fewdays felt like everything was back to normal. Tristan was suddenly everywhere. He didn’t stay in his room as much as before. He used every opportunity he found to hang around me. He watched movies with me even if he hated it; he played Uno cards with me, even when he was tired; and he had not given up on teaching me how to play chess even if it drove him crazy that I kept getting it wrong.
