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I stress-chop vegetables for tomorrow so I can make omelets for breakfast and scan the want ads for apartments. I circle two potential places while I try to reassure myself that I’ll be fine if Tristan brings someone home. We’re just having sex. I’m a big girl. Besides, I don’t even like him. He’s a means to an orgasm.
Tristan walks through the door as I finish putting everything away. He’s alone. Tension melts from my body so quickly I worry I’ll leave a puddle on the floor. Which is bad. So, so bad. Maybe I don’t not-like him as much as I thought.
“Hey.” I wipe my damp hands on my jeans. I should have changed into bed wear. Or something sexy. Anything other than the jeans-and-shirt combo I’m currently sporting that now has wet spots on it.
As soon as he sees me, his jaw clenches. “I’m not in the mood.”
All the relief I felt a second ago goes right out the window, along with my bruised, deflated ego. I can’t handle asshole Tristan tonight.
“Neither am I.”
He brushes by me, heading for the fridge. He yanks it open and pulls out the freshly squeezed orange juice. He spins around, angry. “I don’t need to deal with your shit tonight, Beat.”
“You’re the one biting my head off, not the other way around,” I snap.
“Biting your head off? What are you doing down here? Why aren’t you in bed?” He tips his head. “Were you waiting for me to come home?”
I bite my lips together. The answer is sort of yes. But I won’t admit it. Not when he’s being like this. Instead of incriminating myself, I head for the bathroom. It’s the only room I can escape to for privacy. And I could use a shower.
“Dick.” I shut the door and turn on the hot water.
My frustration mounts as I strip out of my clothes. I put on some music and step under the hot spray. I’ve finished washing my hair when there’s a knock on the door.
“If you need to pee, you have a kitchen sink and a balcony!” I say.
The door opens. Because I forgot to lock it.
“Don’t you dare pee in here while I’m in the shower!” I shout. “Or flush!”
The shower door opens a few inches. Tristan’s eyeball appears.
“Fuck you!” I try to close the door on him, but he’s stronger by a lot. I bar an arm across my chest to hide my nipples. “You don’t get to invite yourself in here after you shit all over me.”
“I’m sorry. I had a really bad game. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Flip wanted me to come out. And it’s fucking with me because I’m lying to him.” He takes a deep breath.
“Then we stop doing this and tell him,” I counter. “But if he knows, there’s no way he’ll be okay with it. So figure yourself out, Tristan.”
His exhale feels like every piece of his bad mood leaving his body. “But I don’t want to stop.”
His conflict is real, and I get it, but it doesn’t excuse his behavior. “You were a dick. I did nothing to deserve that. I’m tired of this bullshit. I’m not fourteen hoping you’ll look my way again.”
“I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He bites his bottom lip and has the gall to look boyishly handsome and contrite. “Can I make it up to you?”
I glare at him.
“Please, Bea? I mean it. I’m sorry.”
I sigh and step back.
He strips out of his clothes and steps into the shower. He’s already hard. “Will you let me make it better?” He moves to stand behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. The affection is unexpected. He drops his head and nuzzles my neck. “You know I’ll make you feel good, Bea.”
“What about Flip?” I tip my head back, and he bites the edge of my jaw.
“He went to the bar. He won’t be home for a while.” His erection presses into the small of my back. “How could I ever stay away when I know your sweet, tight pussy is right here, waiting for me to fill it with my tongue, or fingers, or my massive cock?” He kisses down the side of my neck.
I snort. “Check your ego, Tristan.”
“But I make you feel good, don’t I? Make you come every single time.” He squeezes my breast and nips at my earlobe.
“Yeah, you make me feel good.” I rest my head on his chest. “When you’re not being mean.”
“I’ll be nice tonight, okay?” His fingers skate over the patch of curls at the apex of my thighs. He gives them a tug, then dips lower, rubbing a slow circle on my clit. I whimper and push my ass against his cock. “That’s one of my favorite sounds, little Bea.”
