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Trust me, I tried.
Before he gradually pulled away, he kissed me one last time with the stroke of his tongue. My eyes must have closed at some point because they fluttered, finding him grinning at me.
I swallowed hard, unable to move or say anything. Not when the expression on his face made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. Having Tristian’s attention was as addicting as having his affection. They both went hand in hand for me. And like a feign already hooked, I wanted more.
As if reading my mind for what felt like the hundredth time, he stared deep into my eyes and groaned, “You have no idea what you do to me…”
I sassed, “You have a crappy way of showing it.”
“Don’t worry, kitten. I know you don’t hate me. You just think that you have to.”
Was he right?
“Is that why you bully me? So I’ll hate you?”
“Is this what you call bullying, Belle?”
“No. Not this.”
“What’s this then?”
“I’m not sure.”
He smiled against my mouth. “This was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“No?”
“What if it was?”
“I want to hear you say the words.”
“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction.”
“Says the girl who’s still sitting on my lap. You want me to kiss you again, kitten?”
I licked my lips, still feeling him there, and nodded.
In true asshole, Tristian Hawkins form, he declared war, “The next time I kiss you, you’re going to beg me for it.”
The sad thing was, I had no defenses against him.
He made sure of it.
Chapter Eleven
—Tristian—
Now
I rolled over to embrace my wife, finding her side of the bed cold and empty. Sitting up, I glanced around the room. Not finding her anywhere in sight.
“Kitten?” I shouted to no avail.
Grabbing my cell phone off the nightstand, I looked at the time. Seven in the morning.
I texted her.
