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I love his pained look as I settle into him and start a slow rock against his hips. He molds his palms over my breasts, and I gasp at the bursts of pleasure plunging from my nipples to my burning core. When I feel him harden beneath me, my hips instinctively push harder, longing for the rest.
His eyes close at the friction, agony and want straining his beautiful face.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve fantasized about this?” I breathe out, leaning down to taste him again.
I don’t know why I asked because he can’t answer when the frenzied kisses resume. With our lips and tongues wrestling for control, I drive my hips into him again, absorbing hit after hit of excruciating temptation. He groans and matches my rhythm for harsher friction. It’s still not enough, and I’m on fire when he flips us over to brace on top of me.
It’s a moment I’ve been waiting for most of my life, staring up into the deep, mesmerizing eyes of Tristan Haverford, his mouthwatering body fused with mine and surrendered to my will. He pushes again, applying glorious pressure between my legs, and I slide my hands down his back to grip his ass and brace us together. Each shove, I follow, triggering wave after wave of electric heat. His body is rigid with need as mine tightens against him, seeking more.
“Please tell me you have a condom,” I say. It comes out like a whimper, and maybe it is. Maybe I’ll combust if I can’t have him completely and fully right this second.
“Yeah. Kim made me get some thanks to a conversation with Jack,” he says with a playful grin.
“Jack Benson?” I ask, scrunching my nose.
“You don’t wanna know.”
“No, I really don’t. Where are they?”
“Right here.”
He adjusts to reach his bag beside the couch, and even as he searches, I can’t stop touching him. Every place my fingers land becomes a new playground to enjoy. His back, his shoulders, his thighs, that toned, hard ass I’ve drooled over, with and without clothing. It doesn’t matter with him. I want him always, however I can have him.
I’m relieved when he returns to position with a foil pouch in his hand. I don’t even wait for confirmation before I’m kicking off my shorts while he tears open the wrapper. My breath leaves my lungs as he straightens to apply it, and I swear he took a class on how to wreck a girl by that action alone. Why is everything about him so freaking sexy?
By the time he braces over me again, I’m a needy mess.
“Are you—”
He can’t finish his question when I drag his mouth back to mine, sucking and devouring his lips like I’ll never get the chance to taste him again. Maybe I won’t. We shouldn’t be doing this once, let alone again.
None of that matters when my brain goes silent at the first euphoric rush. It explodes into stars at the second. And the third. And the fourth. And…
“Ahh.” I arch back, lifting my hips to meet each drive of his. His name barrels through my head, but I can’t get it out through the gasps, completely lost in wave after wave of intense pleasure. My entire body buzzes, and I curve my arms around his shoulders, aching for relief.
“You okay?” he asks.
“As long as you don’t stop.”
His eyes flare hot at my plea, and I gasp when he pushes even harder. Deeper. All the way to the center of my being. I’d do anything to sustain this haze of anticipation. Each surge sends me closer to the edge, harder and harder, climbing, straining, begging—until air and light and every brilliant thing explodes into chaotic euphoria. Bolts of searing heat flood through me when I finally surrender, and I allow it to envelop me. For several glorious seconds, I’m wholly consumed by a passion I’ve been restricting—reserving—for this incredible person without even knowing it.
Or maybe I did.
Tristan collapses against me, breathing hard as his cheek brushes mine. I tighten my hold, refusing to let go. It feels so right to be here like this, sated and connected. Tranquility—that’s what I’m feeling when his lips rest against my neck in a soft kiss.
I run my fingers along his back, wishing we never had to leave this quiet oasis. Pain and struggle await us outside the bubble of this one perfect moment, but I’d suffer a hundred hours of turbulence for just one minute of peace with Tristan.
And I will have to in order to protect him from a world intent on breaking him. Maybe it already has.
He pushes up slightly and rests his gaze on mine. In the silence, I reach up to trace his flushed cheek, then run my thumb over his lips. I’m already longing to taste them again. He’s so beautiful it hurts.
“Kim will be home soon,” he murmurs, kissing the pad of my thumb.
“I know,” I sigh out.
“You have to get up early tomorrow.”
“I know.”
