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“I don’t think I’m ever going to sit here again and not think about having sex with you on the counter. You put that in my mind. I can’t get it out.”
“Have you ever had sex on a kitchen counter?”
Stacey’s eyes creased. “Umm, no. How about you?” Her stomach churned. Did she really want to know?
He winked at her. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
Her mouth dropped. “Seriously? Someone else’s kitchen has gotten christened?” She felt her stomach drop. The thought of him with another girl, doing what she wants him to do to her, made her insides boil with… jealousy? Is that what she felt?
Tristan reached over and grabbed her hand, bringing her back to now. “Hey. You were lost somewhere.” He squeezed her hand, getting her attention. “I’ve never had sex on a kitchen counter before. Or in a kitchen on anything before. I promise.”
Stacey shot him a look. She wasn’t sure if she believed him, but the boiling in her stomach cooled a bit, and turned to mush. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better. I know you’ve been with other people. It’s not a big deal.”
He laid down his chopsticks and took a big drink of water, not taking his eyes off her.
She watched him swallow.
Then he finally spoke. “Really? It wouldn’t bother you if I said I’ve done another girl on her kitchen counter?” His eyes searched hers.
She tried her best to keep her face neutral, though she couldn’t miss the acid starting to boil again deep in her gut. She couldn’t talk, so just shook her head while taking a drink—a large drink to cool herself off.
“Well, honestly, I get crazy jealous at the thought of someone having you that way.” He took another drink. “I’ll be honest, though. When you opened the door, and I saw you covered in almost nothing, looking amazing like you do, something in me snapped, and keeping my hands off you and my lips from you, was going to be difficult. I wanted you bad, and the counter looked like a great place to take you.” He closed the space between them. “Thinking of you with someone else.” He shook his head. “Jealousy is not an emotion I do well. I’m selfish, and I want you all to myself.”
She froze. And stared at him. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. “I agree.”
Their lips met.
“Better watch out, gorgeous. It sounds like you’re starting to fall for me. Maybe a relationship is in your future.”
“I can like you and not want a relationship, you know.” She hoped those words sounded more believable than she felt.
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He wrapped his arms around her. “If I have my way, we will be in a relationship, and we’ll have a lot of time to get creative.”
“Hmm. Doesn’t sound so bad. We can start now. The table looks sturdy.” Stacey felt the familiar warmth radiating throughout her body, and she kissed him with need. She traveled her kiss down his neck and felt his breath hitch. Her heart did a flip she hadn’t felt before. She cleared her throat. “Is this what we’re going to do all night?” She wouldn’t complain if it was. Her bedroom was ready.
He stood up and started cleaning the table. “Nope. I have other plans. Go change into shorts and a t-shirt. I’m taking you to the club. We’re going to play Pickleball.”
They drove up a long driveway surrounded on both sides by a golf course. Up ahead was a huge white plantation home with a large parking lot next to it. In the back there was a swimming pool, a couple pavilions, tennis courts, and they pulled into a parking area of what looked like smaller tennis courts. Surrounded by fancy sport cars, and people dressed in expensive clothes, with rackets slung over their shoulders, Stacey felt like a fish out of water.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
Tristan glanced at her as he turned off his car. “It’s just the club my uncle belongs to. I reserved a Pickleball court and want to teach you. It’s fun. I promise you’ll love it.”
“You’re rich?” The last time she was at a country club was with Carl. That was a nightmare she really didn’t want to relive, which included an ex-girlfriend and being treated inferior. She took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves and wiped her hands on her shorts.
Tristan opened her door, pulled her out, and enclosed his arms around her waist. “I live with my aunt and uncle. They have money.”
“How much money?”
Tristan sighed. “Really, does it matter? I’m not one of those stuck-up rich guys you insist on hating.”
She looked into his eyes. No, there was not one thing about him that she hated. “I don’t hate you, but why didn’t you tell me you’re rich?”
“Seriously? Because of this reason right here. Don’t judge me for my family’s money.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Fine, have you heard of Warfield Meats?”
Stacey’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “The largest beef company in the country? Of course.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my uncle’s company.”
