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I shake my head. “You know things other people don’t.”
“Yes, but…” She sighs. “You’re rich.”
“Not obscenely,” I explain. “A lot of the profit from the sale went to the investors. I made some money, but it’s just a tool to build something bigger and explore more possibilities. That’s why I do what I do, to explore all the endless possibilities.”
She smiles. “I like that you’re so passionate about your work.”
Right now, I don’t feel so benign about the work that’s going to take me away from her. “I like that you’re passionate about yours.”
“Yeah…” She draws out the word. “I got this sought-after research grant for my master’s program, and a position working with one of the most celebrated art history professors in the country. It’s everything I ever wanted, but now…”
“But now…what?” I know what she’s thinking, and though I know we shouldn’t put off our dreams just so we can be together, a vain, or desperate part of me wants to hear her say it.
She laughs self-consciously. “I don’t know...I’m being silly.” She touches her lips to my chest, and though I’m disappointed, arousal stirs inside me, so I pull her on top of me and catch her lips with mine, then we make love until we both fall asleep.
CHAPTER18
CORA
When I wake up, Tristan is still asleep. From the window, tendrils of sunlight reach for his face, bathing him with soft, early morning light. He looks perfect, like the classic statues in the city. I want to cover his face with desperate, loving kisses and beg him to stay with me, always.
His eyes open. “Please don’t say I look charming and innocent and boyish when I’m asleep.” His voice is gruff, but he’s smiling.
“You look monstrous and you snore like a bear.”
He laughs. “You didn’t have to swing to the far end of the pendulum.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?” I snuggle into his warm, hard body and place a quick kiss on his shoulder. “You do look charming and innocent and boyish when you sleep.”
In one fluid movement, he rolls on top of me, supporting his weight on one arm while his face hovers over mine. “I’m not innocent and boyish at all.”
My mind immediately conjures memories from the past few days of him being far from innocent. I sigh with remembered pleasure. “I know.”
“You sure?” One perfect eyebrow goes up. “…cause I can spend all morning showing you just how far from innocent I am.”
I bite my bottom lip, holding his gaze in a silent challenge. Without a word, he slides his free hand over my hips and between my legs. I’m already wet, and his fingers slide easily over the most intimate parts of me.
His throat works as he swallows, and his eyes fill with a hunger that’s now as familiar to me as my own face.
“This is how you turn me into a sex fiend,” he growls softly.
I rock my hips, rubbing against his fingers. “You’re talking too much for a sex fiend.”
His lips curve, and a devilish light fills his eyes as he strokes me languidly. He watches my face as I bite my lip and roll my hips, waiting until I’m incoherent with pleasure before positioning himself between my legs and pushing inside me with a firm stroke.
He feels so good, I cry out his name. His forehead touches mine and he drags in a slow breath, holding still for a moment before he starts to move. He lifts his head, so his eyes are on mine, boring deep into me. I love how intimate it feels with our eyes locked like we’re looking into each other’s souls. I love how he fills me up so completely. I love how he moves in sweet, measured strokes.
Meeting each thrust with my hips, I take him deeper inside me. He feels so unbelievably good. He starts to move faster, and pleasure suffuses my insides, bursting inside me like an explosion. I grip the sheets and cry out his name when I come. My body arches off the bed and he lifts me by my waist, settling on his haunches with me in his lap. He’s still inside me and he keeps moving, sliding in and out of me with deep, perfect strokes.
I can barely take it. My body twists to one side and I lift my arms, reaching for something, anything to hold on to as I fall so deep into an ocean of pleasure, I just know I’m going to drown.
He holds me steady with one hand at my waist, then drags the other over my breast, letting his thumb flick hard over my swollen nipple, then he lowers his head to suck at my other nipple, all the while still thrusting deep into me.
I come again, hard, falling forward on him with a soft cry. I feel his body jerk hard as he comes too, his deep groan filling the room, then he wraps his arms around me and we both fall back on the bed, shuddering in the aftermath of pleasure.
* * *
Tristan’s flightis in the early hours of the next morning, and we spend most of the day in bed, not thinking or talking about his impending departure. We ignore the world outside and make love again and again, only stopping to eat. I don’t want to let him out of my sight. I’m desperate to hold on to every second.
