Slow Play

  I finally make it to the front porch to find Tristan sitting on the steps, chugging from a bottle of water and looking sexy as sin. I collapse on the step beside him, resting my head against his shoulder as I try to catch my breath. He doesn’t push me away, doesn’t say anything rude or discouraging. Merely drops a kiss on top of my head when he’s finished drinking and waves a new bottle of water in front of my face with a flourish.

  The sweet gestures melt me. Something he’s really good at doing lately.

  I grab the water from him and crack the top off, taking a long drink before I twist the cap back on and set the bottle beside me. “I’m out of shape.”

  “You look in pretty good shape to me.” He nudges me with his shoulder and I really do almost go toppling over. He’s as solid as a mountain, this man.

  “Not really. I’m thin but I come by it naturally. When I was in my early teens, they all thought I was anorexic.” I frown. I’d forgotten all about that, though I don’t know how. I hated when my mom took me to the doctor, stressing again and again that I must have some sort of problem.

  Which is ironic really, since she’s the one who gave me the problem. She always told me I needed to watch my weight, watch what types of food I ate, was always tugging at my clothes and implying that I somehow looked fat. She’s the one who could’ve made me anorexic in an instant. I’m surprised she didn’t.

  “Whose they?” Tristan asks.

  “My parents.” I go quiet. I don’t want to talk about them, though I really should with Tristan.

  “They were hard on you?” he asks gently.

  “Most of the time I didn’t think they knew I existed,” I confess truthfully. “They were always busy.”

  “Same with mine, especially my dad.” Tristan stares off into the distance, squinting at the sun. “He’s a workaholic. Has a lot to show for it too, so that’s something.”

  “You come from a lot of money.” I state the obvious.

  He turns to look at me. “The Prescott fortune is in the billions. Shep and I have a lot to live up to, though we’re not expected to do anything. Not like Gabe. His dad fully expects him to take over their family business someday, not that he wants to.”

  “Are you going into your family business after you graduate?” I ask, curious. He never talks about his future either. But neither do I, more so because I have no clue what it might hold.

  “If they’ll have me. I guess.” He returns his gaze to the falling sun, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his mouth twisted in this tight grimace. “I don’t know if that’s what I want to do.”’

  “What else do you want, then?”

  “I know I like spending time with you.” He takes my hand and squeezes it in between both of his. “That was probably fucking sappy as shit, huh. Sounds like something Steven would say.”

  I laugh because—and I know this is wrong—I like how jealous he is over the relationship I have with Steven. Though calling it a relationship is a stretch. It’s more like a friendship. “Steven is very sweet.”

  “And I’m not. I’m the farthest thing from sweet,” Tristan says, knocking into my shoulder again, more gently this time. “You like ‘em that way? Am I wasting my time here, angel?”

  Is he testing the waters to see how I’ll react? How does he want me to answer?

  Turning to look at him, I smile, my gaze never leaving his. “I don’t think you’re wasting your time. And sweet’s overrated. I prefer them a little spicy and full of themselves.”

  His smile grows. “I’d never think you’re a waste of time. I hope you realize that.”

  “I do,” I say sincerely.

  I so do.

  After our enlightening talk on the front porch—who knew going for a run would cause Alexandria to open up so much—we snuck into the house and into her room, thankful everyone that were already inside was concentrating on the game play unfolding on the TV screen versus us.

  “We could’ve been terrorists and they would’ve never noticed us,” Alexandria says indignantly once I have the door to her room shut.

  “Right, like terrorists are targeting your house,” I joke as I turn the lock firmly into place. I want zero interruptions right now.

  “Fine, not terrorists, home invasion people.” She pauses and I give her a look. “What? Those types of crime scare the crap out of me! You’re sitting at home, minding your own business when someone suddenly busts in and demands all your valuables. I can’t imagine how scary that would be.”

  “Your home is invaded every day with Conrad’s friends,” I tell her seriously. It’s the damn truth. The living room is currently filled with five guys, three of them I don’t recognize. “Or Kelli.”

  She makes a face. “Don’t mock Kelli. She’s frustrated.”

  “Over what?” I settle on the edge of Alexandria’s bed and watch while she mills about her room, grabbing a hair tie as she piles her hair on top of her head and puts it into a sloppy bun.

  I like it when she does that. I pretty much like it when she does anything.

  “Steven. They’re still playing the I-don’t-like-you-but-I-do game.” She rolls her eyes. “They need to just do it and get it out of the way.”

  “That sounds familiar,” I say with a smile, earning a slap on the arm for my efforts.

  “You know my reasoning behind taking it slow,” she chastises, completely adorable. And I never think a chick is adorable. “You said you were okay with it.”

  “I am. I swear.” My mouth goes dry when she reaches for the hem of her sweatshirt and lifts it up. And up, until she’s revealing her bare stomach and the sexy as fuck sports bra she’s wearing. It covers a lot but Jesus. Where did she get that thing? “What the hell sort of fresh torture is this?”

  She tugs her shirt completely off and tosses it on the nearby chair. “What’s wrong with my sports bra?” She glances down at herself, even more adorable than she was before.

  I wave a hand, indicating for her to come closer. She does as I ask, stopping directly in front of me and I reach up, toying with the little zipper handle with my index finger. “This. This is what’s wrong with your sports bra. It fucking unzips.” Right down the center. One tug and I could see everything.

  And that’s all I can think about. Me, unzipping the bra slowly and revealing those perfect small tits with the rosy nipples. Spending the rest of the afternoon sucking on them, the both of us naked in her tiny bed.

  Rolling her eyes, she bats my hand away and takes a step back. “What’s the big deal? So it’s a zipper.”

  “A zipper that comes undone and offers me a glimpse of the promised land,” I immediately retort.

  Alexandria rolls her eyes. “Are you calling my breasts the promised land?”

  “I will call them the Statue of Liberty and Mount Everest all rolled up in one to prove to you how magical your tits really are,” I say solemnly.

  She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “You are seriously unreal.”

  I bounce on the edge of her bed, bracing my hands on the mattress. “How big is this bed anyway?”

  “It’s a queen. So sorry it’s not a California king or whatever you have back at your place. Some of us peasants can only afford so much.” She sniffs and tilts her nose. Is she joking? Please God, tell me she’s joking. “I bet your bed is even custom-made.”

  It is. The mattress and box spring are longer to accommodate my height. “You never complained when you were in it.”

  Her cheeks turn crimson. “Do you always have to circle back to sex?”

  “Where you’re concerned? Hell, yeah.” I grab her about the waist and pull her in between my legs, my hand sprawled across her butt. She’s wearing spandex black leggings that leave nothing to the imagination. As in, all I see are her long, long legs and her perfect ass. “A man only has so much patience.”

  “Are you saying you’re giving up on me already?” She rests her hands on my shoulders just as I lean in and press my mouth against her bared belly.

/>   “Never,” I murmur against her warm, slightly salty skin. I kiss her there. Gentle, feather-light kisses, again and again, doing my best not to miss an inch of skin with my lips. She trembles beneath my mouth, a shaky sigh leaving her when I lick the curve of her belly button.

  “Tristan, what are you doing?”

  I tilt my head back and she runs her hand over my hair. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I kiss along her ribcage while she tugs on my hair. I guess she wants me to stop? Why?

  “I’m sweaty. I should take a shower.”

  “No way. I like you sweaty.” I run my mouth along the edge of her sports bra, breathe deep her wildflower scent. Is it the lotion she uses? Or maybe her perfume? I need to ask her. But not now. “It’s your fault you know.”

  “My fault for what?” She huffs out incredulous laughter when I look up at her, my eyes narrowed.

  “Tempting me with your sexy zipper bra and your spandex.” I smack one ass check lightly, making her stumble. “You really think I’d be on my best behavior when you’re dressed like this?”

  “If I didn’t like you, I’d take offense to that remark,” she starts, her voice firm. Did I just press all of her feminist buttons? Shit. I didn’t mean anything by what I said. “Women don’t wear clothing just to be objectified by men, you know.”

  “Yeah, but you wear your sexy bras and panties just to drive me wild with lust. Don’t deny it, you know it’s true. You admitted it yourself a few nights ago,” I point out.

  She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, contemplating me. Her fingers are still in my hair, sifting through it carefully. As if it brings her joy to touch me. “Wild with lust?”

  I nod. “Uh huh. And now this.” I reach up and toy with the zipper, giving it a little tug. It slides down easily, revealing gloriously bare skin. “I love zippers.”

  She smiles, her eyes glowing as she watches me. “Really?”

  “Definitely. Especially when I can do this with them.” I unzip her bra the rest of the way, the fabric falling open, revealing her breasts. My mouth goes dry. Will that always happen every single time? In that first breathtaking moment when I see her bare, just for me? Her nipples are hard, beaded points and I pull her in closer to my eager mouth, pressing a kiss in the spot between her breasts.

  Her hand curves around the back of my head, holding me to her. “We shouldn’t…”

  “Oh, we definitely should,” I interrupt, licking the underside of her breast and making her jump. “Unless you think I’m too sweaty?”

  “I don’t think you broke a sweat the entire run,” she mumbles, sounding irritated.

  Which only makes me smile. “Jealous of my superior athletic ability?”

  She shakes her head. “Sort of. Not really. I figure I’ll benefit from it eventually.”

  Mmm, she is so right. “You can benefit from it right now if you’d like.”

  “I’d like that,” she admits softly.

  I don’t say another word, just kiss my way across her chest, teasing her nipples with my tongue. Her breathing accelerates, as does mine. Her fingers tighten in my hair. Her stance gets a little wobbly when I pull a nipple into my mouth and gently suck. My hands never leave her butt, keeping her steady, not letting her escape, though I don’t believe she would try.

  She tastes good. Like warm, fragrant, salty Alexandria. I curl my fingers into the waistband of her leggings at the exact moment she shrugs out of her sports bra, leaving her bare from the waist up. The spandex proves more trouble, the clinging fabric a struggle as I pull them down her legs, and I come face to panties with the sexiest little black mesh thong I’ve ever seen.

  And I can see everything, each curling, dark blonde pubic hair that barely covers her mound, the dampness from her body sticking to the front of her panties. I suck in a breath, inhaling her musky scent before I glance up to find her head bent, hair tumbling forward as she watches me.

  “You’re wet.”

  She nods, nibbling on that lower lip again. “That’s what happens when you touch me.”

  “Just one touch?” Leaving her leggings bunched around her knees, I skim my finger across the front of her panties. She sucks in a harsh breath, her eyelids wavering.

  “That’s pretty much all it takes,” she murmurs.

  “Hmm.” I trace along her slit, back and forth, pleased when the fabric grows wetter. Hotter. With my other hand, I push her leggings farther down, until they fall in a heap around her ankles, though she doesn’t kick them off. “You smell good.”

  “Tristan…”

  “I’m serious.” I press my face against her pussy and breathe her in. My dick twitches in response. “I love the way you smell, especially right here.”

  A shiver moves through her. “You’re a pervert.”

  “I am.” I pull away so I can smile up at her. “I’ve never denied it.”

  She laughs, a nervous, tinkling sound. “I’m thinking you believe I should be okay with this?”

  “Like you said, you do benefit from it. And I’m only a pervert for you.” I grab hold of the skimpy strings that stretch across her hips and pull. “Now let’s go ahead and get you naked.”

  Oh, he’s a wicked, wicked man, smiling at me so casually, his face right in my lady business, his long fingers curled around my panties as he tries to take them off. Only moments ago he had his face right there, inhaling me. Teasing me with his fingers, and before that kissing and licking my nipples…

  I didn’t plan on this happening. Really, I didn’t. I figured we’d go for a run as a way to work off some of that sexual frustration that’s been building up between us. But then I’d taken off my shirt, he’d caught one look at my sports bra and forget it. Our libidos kicked right back into gear and now here I am with my leggings around my ankles and my shoes still on, practically naked while he’s still fully dressed.

  This might get a little awkward with the clothing logistics.

  That smile is still locked on his face as he pulls my thong down, revealing me to him. He inhales sharply, his nostrils flaring, the smile fading as he drinks me in. A wave of arousal moves through me and I feel sexy. Powerful. That I can make him react so strongly without really doing anything but exist is a heady sensation.

  “I want to taste you so fucking bad.” He holds onto my hips, his large hands enveloping them. I wait and watch with barely held breath, jerking against him when he nuzzles my sex with his nose. His mouth. He kisses me there, softly at first, then more persistent. Open mouthed kisses that feel so good I could faint. And when his tongue joins the mix, lapping at my damp skin, the whimper that escapes me is loud.

  So loud he glances up at me, that wicked smile firmly in place once again. “You okay?”

  I nod. “I still have my shoes on.”

  Chuckling, he helps me with that, tugging them off my feet along with my socks, then taking off my leggings and panties until I’m naked in front of him. Bared to him, completely on display in the afternoon light, where he can examine my every flaw.

  “So fucking beautiful,” he says reverently, skimming his hands along my hips, my outer thighs. I stand on shaky legs, inhaling deep as I desperately try to keep my shit together.

  With him like this, I feel so damn vulnerable. And it’s been a long time since I’ve experienced this, and never this intense. I’ve kept myself closed off for so long, hidden in the shadows, trying to reestablish my footing. I told myself from the start I shouldn’t get involved with a guy like Tristan. He’d make me feel too exposed, too raw, too…everything.

  And now here I am. Naked. Raw. Exposed. Vulnerable. He’s got his hands on me, his mouth on my skin, worshiping my body, making me feel so good, so wonderfully, deliciously…

  Alive.

  “You’re shaking, angel.” He touches my hip with his fingers, drifts them down, through my pubic hair. “Do I make you nervous?”

  I nod, my throat too dry to speak.

  “Why?”

  I shake my head, not wanting to ans
wer.

  “You make me nervous too.”

  His quiet confession makes my head jerk in surprise. I glance down at him, my eyes wide, my lips parted though I still can’t talk. He nods in response, leaning in to drop a kiss to the very top of my right thigh, his warm mouth lingering on my skin like he doesn’t want to stop. I shiver at the tender gesture.

  “It’s true,” he murmurs. “You overwhelm me. My feelings for you—I don’t understand them.”

  I run a hand through his soft hair, silently encouraging him to go on.

  “You’re too good for me, you know that?” He tilts his head back, our gazes meeting. His blue eyes are so dark, that familiar turbulent storm raging within them. “I’ll probably end up only hurting you in the end.”

  I flinch at his choice of words. The end. Who wants to hear that, especially when what we have is only beginning?

  “You consume me, Alexandria,” he continues, his voice rough. “I spent all night with you and the next day all I could imagine was when I would next see you again. You haunt my thoughts, my dreams. I don’t think like that. I never think like that.” He shakes his head, looking almost irritated. “You’re the first woman that’s ever made me feel like this. Though I tried to deny it.”

  He did?

  “I tried to tell myself I didn’t need you, but fuck it.” He rises to his feet, almost intimidating as he stands so close to me, his hands still on my hips, his body radiating heat. He’s all I can see, hear, feel. “I want you, Ali. I want you so fucking bad it’s killing me to just play around with you or whatever the hell we’re doing. When all I really want to do is get you in that bed and fuck you until the both of us can’t see straight.”

  Oh. My entire body goes weak at his words, the fluttering in my stomach making me jittery. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, all thoughts of wanting to take this slow in order to protect myself flying right out the window.

  “I can’t make you any flowery promises. I can’t say that one of us or the both of us won’t get hurt at some point. But I’m—I’m fucking desperate to be inside you.” He releases my hips to hold my face, tilting it up so I have no choice but to stare into his blazing eyes. He hesitates, I see his Adam’s apple move when he swallows and wait for whatever he has to say next. “I just want to feel close to you,” he whispers, his admission pulled from somewhere deep. “I want to look you in the eyes when I enter you for the first time. And I want to be the one you hold onto when I make you come.”