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“I just—fuck.” He leaned against the counter, gripping the edge. “I feel so out of control, and I’m sick of it.”
“That’s the problem. You’re trying to control everything, when you need to let loose. Want me to help you be more wild?” I teased, eager for a lighter topic.
“I’m sure you could.” He chuckled, eyeing me with something suspiciously like desire. “But my life is wild enough as it is between two kids, a crazy dog, and a hedgehog. I mean, what the hell was I thinking?”
“With the hedgehog?” I asked. “I’ve been wondering. I mean, Hedgie is cute and all but not the cuddliest of pets. She’s literally a ball of spikes. And a nocturnal one at that.”
“Savannah has been obsessed with hedgehogs for as long as I can remember. It was our first Christmas without Tessa, and well, I would’ve done anything to make it better for her.”
He straightened as if telling himself to cut it out. And I was tired of seeing him try to hide his pain. Holding it together for the kids was tearing him apart.
“Tristan.” I took his glass from his hand and set it on the counter, wanting to make sure I had his full attention. “You deserve to enjoy life and all it has to offer.”
That belief was part of what had pushed me to get a tattoo. To make the most of my time in Melbourne. To apply for the JET Program. Because what was the point of this one wild and precious life if not to do something with it?
“I did. Before…”
“You still can,” I said, brushing his hair away from his face.
That night in his room, I’d resisted touching him. But now that I had, I couldn’t seem to stop.
“Can I?” His gaze met mine.
Brown eyes tinged with sadness but curiosity too. This close, I could see the way the chestnut blended with gold like the colors in my favorite eye shadow palette, and I held his gaze. I clung to the connection, even as it filled me with an ache so strong I didn’t know how much more I could take.
If life was too short, I didn’t want to waste this moment. I didn’t want to hold back.
“Sometimes I think you’re the only person who understands me,” I whispered, as if we were sharing a secret.
He sighed and closed his eyes, our foreheads kissing. “I feel the same way.”
I smiled, relief and anticipation blooming in my chest.
He let out a deep breath, gripping my hips as if restraining himself. It felt as if this thing between us could barely be contained.
Let go,I chanted. Give in.
He cupped my cheek, his eyes assessing mine as if asking a question. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found the answer. He slid his hand to the back of my neck, pulling me closer still. My core throbbed, the ache intensifying the longer he looked at me like that.
I held my breath, anticipating the moment he’d press his lips to mine. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
I waited, wanting him to take that next step. Make that first move to ease this unbearable tension that seemed ever-present between us. But when the seconds stretched on, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I pressed my lips to his. And when he finally took control of the kiss, my body came alive in a way unlike ever before. His tongue was teasing my seam, making me open for him. When he nipped at my bottom lip and lifted me onto the counter, I was breathless.
Holy fuck. There was kissing, and then there wasthis.
It was soft and hard. He was both tender and passionate. I wanted to take my time, kiss him slowly until I’d gotten my fill. And yet I cravedmore. More of his hands on my skin, exploring. More of his lips tasting, capturing.
I’d never felt anything like this all-consuming need. And I’d never expected to feel it with Tristan.
With our foreheads still touching, and my body still quaking, he groaned. I’d never heard a sound more tortured.
“What are we doing, Elle?”
Not Eleanor or Ellie, but Elle. Apart from Tristan, no one had ever called me Elle, and I liked it immediately.
I didn’t know what we were doing, but I knew I wanted more of it. More Tristan. And judging from the way his cock was nudging me through my leggings, he wanted more of this too.
