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Chapter Eleven
ISABEL
It’s wrong for me to be looking at Tristan like I am.
With everything that just happened, I should be making him hot cocoa, not wanting to rip that towel off his hips. But we just established life isn’t fair and the universe is out of balance, so forgive me for thinking the person I should be hugging belongs naked and on top of me.
I take another step toward him, encouraged by the sudden change in his expression.
“I want to stay with you,” I say.
He swallows hard, and I’m mesmerized by the movement of his throat. I long to spread my palm over it, squeezing just enough to make his eyes ignite like wildfire. He feels it too, this sudden tension dragging us together. I know he does.
“You were my first, did you know that?” I ask, searching his beautiful, conflicted face.
“Your first what?”
“My first orgasm.”
He releases a breath. “Iz…”
“It was you in my head when I figured it out.”
I take another step.
His brow furrows but he doesn’t move this time. “Aren’t you mad at me? A minute ago you were yelling at me.”
“I was challenging you.”
“Is there a difference?”
“A huge difference.”
“Which is?”
“One leads to an argument. The other leads to… this.”
“And what isthis?”
Great question. I don’t have an answer except that suddenly I can’t think past the masterful way each of his defined abdominals laces with the next. Eight, by my count, still glistening wet from his shower. A drop of water runs down the groove between his pecs, searing over the lifelike flames consuming the left side of his chest. I trace it with my eyes, longing to do the same with my finger. Or my tongue. Or… god, I’ve never wanted to touch something so much in my life. I have to. Just the smallest taste to tame the fire. I might explode if he doesn’t let me in the next ten seconds.
“This is a bad idea,” he says when I take a step closer.
“Really bad,” I say.
“Okay, so…”
He doesn’t finish when my fingers land on his abs. Of course he feels like a fantasy, warm stone and tempting ridges. I want more.Needit. I press harder, loving how his body responds to me.
“What are you doing?” he asks in a warning tone.
“Touching you,” I say, dragging my fingertips along the sensitive skin just above the towel.
His expression is tortured as I outline each muscle with slow precision. Hot streaks radiate throughout my entire body. I dig in further, massaging slowly to draw beautiful torment from his face. He releases a shaky exhale, and I know he’s hurting as much as I am.
“Okay, but…”
“Do you want me to stop?” I lift my gaze to his, taunting him with everything I know he wants. Like I said, not fair, and I’m not sorry.
