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It wasn’t long before a taxi parked in front of us and Tristan ushered me inside. As soon as we were both in the backseat, my lips met Tristan’s with an urgency that surprised even me. I told myself that this was for research, that it was important that I know the kind of man he was, but heat unfurled in the pit of my stomach every time I looked at him.
Tristan Callahan wasn’t just handsome. He was an incredible kisser, and if he could use his hands as well as he could use his mouth, I was in for a treat.
His large hand cradled the back of my head, pulling me closer, while I let my fingers trace the lines of his chiseled jaw and down his strong neck.
I laughed, my hands moving to the buttons of his shirt, flicking them open one by one. “Are you always this smooth, Callahan?” I teased, my fingers brushing against the warm skin of his chest, making him gasp.
“Only with you, Orsini,” he quipped back, capturing my bottom lip between his. I could feel his heart thrumming against my palm as I touched him, a steady rhythm that I found calming amidst the whirlwind of sensations his touch ignited.
The rest of the drive was a blur of stolen kisses and whispered promises. All I cared about was Tristan, his taste, the feel of his hands on my body, his soft laughter ringing in my ears.
The taxi pulled up to Tristan’s apartment building, and I caught a glimpse of the luxurious structure through the window. Even though I knew he came from wealth, seeing his home brought it into sharp focus, leaving me feeling slightly intimidated.
“Thank you!” Tristan said as he paid the cabbie, then looked at me. “Stay there.”
He hopped out of the car, then came around to open my door and give me his hand–ever the gentleman. “Come on,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.
“Tristan...” I hesitated, unsure if I should voice my concerns, which seemed to come into focus as I fought to stay upright. My thoughts were a whirlwind of insecurity and confusion, making it difficult to think clearly. But before I could say anything more, he placed a finger on my lips, silencing me.
“Trust me, Adriana,” he said, his piercing blue eyes searching mine for any sign of doubt. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I nodded, swallowing my fears and allowing myself to be swept up in the moment. We walked into the lobby, our hands entwined, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence surrounding us. The high ceilings, marble floors, and grand chandelier were a far cry from my own modest living space. My apartment was nice--my friends had even called it luxurious--but it was nothing like this.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing a plush interior that matched the grandeur of the rest of the building. Tristan pressed the button for his floor, never releasing his grip on my hand as we stepped inside.
As soon as the doors slid shut, I found him on me like a ravenous animal, his hands tugging my dress down over my hips. His lips were hot against my jaw, his voice low. “Did I tell you how good you look in that dress?” he whispered. “Gonna look even better with it hiked up around your thighs.”
I struggled to hold onto the last remnants of rational thought in my mind as he pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. The elevator pinged as we reached our floor, but neither of us moved as Tristan’s hungry mouth and dexterous fingers moved down my body, working silently to free me from my clothing in a matter of minutes.
Tristan Callahan was a fucking tiger in bed. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it. His mouth was hotter than any man I had ever been with before him, and his grip firm enough to make my head spin without breaking my skin.
The elevator doors slid open with a ping, revealing a long, shadowy hallway. I instantly felt a little self-conscious, my dress was only half on. “Don’t worry,” Tristan said. “No one will say anything. And if they do, I’ll kill them.”
“That’s not necessary,” I said with a smile.
“But I mean it,” he said.
The smirk on his lips made me laugh.
“Someone needs to show you around,” he said, kissing my bare shoulder and pulling me close against him as he grabbed my hand in his and squeezed. A few moments later, we reached a large hardwood door and Tristan led me inside.
I was still in awe of how extravagant his flat was. It was vast and bright, filled with modern fixtures and tasteful furniture. A huge carpet covered most of the living room floor and two sprawling, sleek leather sofas were arranged in front of the blank TV.
“You have good taste,” I said.
“My interior decorator has good taste,” he replied. “I outsource things I’m not good at. Do you want to see the bedroom?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to follow him as quickly as I could. As I swayed slightly on my feet, the effects of the alcohol finally catching up with me, I realized that Tristan was watching me intently. His piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through me, and I couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by my unsteady state.
“Adriana,” concern laced his voice when he spoke, “I think maybe it’s time for you to get some rest.”
I nodded in agreement, not trusting myself to speak without slurring my words. Tristan offered a supportive arm, and I gratefully leaned into him as he guided me towards the bedroom. The sensation of his strong, warm body pressed against mine sent shivers of anticipation down my spine.
But he didn’t kiss me. He didn’t do anything to close the space between us.
“Here we are,” Tristan announced as we reached an elegant wooden door. He opened it to reveal a spacious bedroom, bathed in soft moonlight. The room was minimally decorated, with a luxurious king-sized bed dominating the space. The sight of the plush pillows and crisp white sheets made my eyelids feel heavier.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you to bed.”
