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“Miss feeling your body against mine.”
He pulses against me, and I try to melt into him. Try to think of only him. Try to remember how turned on I once was whenever he touched me.
But nothing works.
“I need you, Esme.” He pushes me onto my back and crawls between my legs. “Need to make love to you.” His lips move along my collarbone before he snakes down my body, hooking his fingers into my panties.
But before he can lift my hips and drag them down my legs, I push away from him and sit on the edge of the bed, lips parting as I attempt to come up with yet another excuse.
Like I have every other time he’s tried to initiate things between us since New York.
He sighs, running a hand over his face, his frustration obvious. It’s not about the lack of sex. Tristan isn’t like that. It’s about the lack of connection. We may share a bed. Share a penthouse.
But we don’t share a life.
We never have.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m just still dealing with some…stuff.” I flash him an apologetic smile, hoping he doesn’t press the issue.
“I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you.” He moves to sit beside me. “I just… I’m trying really fucking hard here, Esme. I know I screwed up.”
I grab his hand in mine. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” he asks in a pained voice. “I’m trying to rebuild what we lost when I was a complete idiot. Thought coming to Paris would help.” He licks his lips. “Instead, all I feel is the divide between us widening. Like you’re not even present. I’m not blaming you,” he adds quickly. “I just…” He brings his hands to my cheeks. “I love you, Esme. I want that to be enough for you.”
“I want that to be enough for me, too,” I quiver, the heartache in his voice nearly splitting me in half.
“But it’s not, is it?” He pulls back, dropping his hold on me.
Iwantto love him. Part of me does in the only way I can love someone other than Creed.
But the other part of me is still clinging to my past.
Maybe I need to stop thinking about Creed. Do everything to forget he ever held a piece of my heart. Like my mother often said…We can’t live in the present if we’re still held captive by the past.
I made the decision years ago not to remain held captive by the past.
Maybe I can make the same decision again.
Creed is my past. He insisted he needed to remain precisely that.
Tristan could be my future. But only if I finally come clean about my past. About everything.
Even if he hates me afterwards.
Drawing in a long steadying breath, I fix my gaze on Tristan. “The reason I haven’t wanted to be intimate is because I slept with someone after we broke up.”
A hush falls over the room as his shoulders sag and he rests his forearms on his knees. Several painful moments pass as he processes this information. Then he looks my way.
“I can’t fault you for that, as much as I want to cut off the bastard’s hands for touching you.” His jaw ticks, fists clenching and unclenching. “But I’m not mad, Esme. I said things that made you think we weren’t ever going to get back together. I don’t blame you for having some revenge sex, more or less. If I blame anyone, it’s myself for being an idiot.”
I run my hands down my legs and worry my bottom lip.
Noticing my reaction, he remarks, “But it wasn’tjustrevenge sex. Was it?”
I slowly shake my head. “It was someone I had feelings for a long time ago. Someone I’ve tried to forget about. I thought I had, especially once I met you. But when I returned home and our paths crossed again—”
