Reading Online Novel

Bankers' Hours(65)



"I can understand that." I really could. A person's finances should be private.

"What I'm saying, Grant, is that I'm trying to let you in. I want to let  you in. I've already asked my lawyer to rewrite my will to include you  as my primary beneficiary. I've started changing my investments to  include you, and all I need for the bank stuff is your signature for  bank records."

I was blown away. "Really? You're serious?"

"Yes, I am." He cupped my shoulder and squeezed it. "I told you, I love  you. Getting angry comes naturally, and I've even taken anger management  classes for it. But I promise, I want you to be involved in my life,  even on the financial level. I'm learning to let go and allow you to do  things your way. Erasing my totals caught me off guard, and I got angry,  but not at you. I was angry that I couldn't see my balance when I  wanted to. I've always gotten what I wanted, when I wanted it. With you,  I'm learning to be flexible, although my learning curve is more like a  gradual incline."                       
       
           



       

I snorted and rolled my eyes at his math analogy. "You're so silly."

He winked and kissed me. "I'll just write the check and not worry about  it." Tristan walked over to the door and paused before leaving. "Remind  me when I get back to show you my ledger with all my accounts and  passwords. I think I need to hire you as my accountant."

"Okay." I had an accounting degree, but I'd never considered using it in  my job when my position at the bank had never utilized it.

He closed the door and then opened it to add, "One more thing. I started  working for my dad as soon as I got out of the Navy. He didn't die  until four years after that, and while he was alive, he taught me how to  pay the bills and told me to save my money. So …  I haven't been  transferring a thousand dollars every month for six years-it's been  ten." He winked again and closed the door.

Tristan had been saving money and investing it for ten years? I cupped  my forehead as a wave of dizziness hit me. I turned and looked around  his outdated house with laminate countertops and wallpaper borders.  Tristan had the money to turn this place into whatever I wanted. He  trusted me with his finances and had called me an equal partner in this  marriage.

No, I decided for good, we're not selling this house. I'm going to spend  some money, get new countertops, and hire someone to remodel the  bathroom so I can have one of those huge tiled walk-in showers I've  always dreamed about. He could afford it!

I knew Tristan wanted to stay here indefinitely. The house was next to  his auto shop and had been in his family for years. I couldn't make him  sell it. I only wanted a nice, clean, and organized house to live in,  and this one was halfway there. As soon as Claire got off the bus, we  were going to visit The Home Depot and pick out new countertops and sink  fixtures. My new life was going to be perfect!





"DO I look okay?" I asked nervously, looking over my appearance in the  full-length mirror I'd had Tristan attach to the back of the bedroom  door.

Not only was this party for our one-month anniversary, but it was also a  housewarming for all the redecorating I'd done. I'd cleaned and painted  the whole damn house. It looked great, but I was exhausted. I still  needed to screw the plate covers back over the outlets in several rooms,  and the countertops wouldn't be replaced for another two weeks, but the  house looked great! Claire had helped tidy things up on Saturday, but  Tristan had reminded me none of it would have happened without my  initiative.

"You look amazing," Tristan answered, coming up behind me. He rubbed my  arms up and down soothingly as he gazed at me in the mirror, but I was  still too nervous.

"Are you sure? I know you bought me those T-shirts to help me loosen up,  and I feel guilty I've only worn the Journey one. Maybe I should  change." I pulled away from him, but Tristan yanked me back in front of  the mirror before I had taken two steps.

"Don't," he warned. "I like this striped shirt. You wore it on our  wedding day, and it reminds me of the way you looked when I said ‘I do.'  I even bought this to go with it."

I turned around, and Tristan handed me a box. Inside was a boutonniere  with a blue ribbon that matched the stripes in my shirt. "Oh, Tristan!" I  lifted it out and set the box on the bed.

"You didn't have flowers on our wedding day, but I know you like them. I  thought a white rose would look nice for today, and I'll try to  remember flowers on every anniversary."

I flung my arms around his neck and bear-hugged him. "Thank you, thank you."

He caressed my cheek when I'd stepped back. "Anything for my princess." He winked.

I lifted my eyebrow. "Really? You're going to call me ‘princess' now?"

Tristan kissed me sweetly. "Yes, because a princess is someone to be  cherished, and cared for, and protected. I planned to do all those  things after watching you nearly swoon when I placed this ring on your  finger." He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles right next to my  diamond ring.

I couldn't refute it. I'd had plenty of princess moments, and picking out this ring didn't exactly build up my masculinity.

Tristan took the boutonniere from my fingers and pinned it to my shirt.  He turned me around to face the mirror one more time. "Wear this shirt,  and stop worrying about everything. The party will be fun. You've made  enough food for an army, and Claire decorated every inch of everything  we own. Whoever shows up will be blown away."

Tristan had suggested we make it an "open house" event, since our  invitations had gone out only a couple of days prior. It made sense, but  that meant I needed to plan for a huge crowd just in case. I'd made  cupcakes, of course, and six different appetizers. Claire had helped me  wrap bacon around scallops the day before. Even her friend Danny, whom  I'd come to adore the first time he visited my house, had helped prepare  hors d'oeuvres in bite-sized baking molds.                       
       
           



       

"You think so?" I asked, shifting my eyes to meet his in the mirror. I  love how he looked at me. His eyes always held so much affection.

Tristan nodded and then bent forward to kiss my ear and neck, his hands  sliding over my hips. "And after everyone is gone," he whispered all  sultry-like, "I'll bring you back in here, undress you, and make all the  tension from the night disappear as I slide my throbbing cock deep  inside your ass." He ran his tongue up the shell of my ear and tugged my  ass back into his groin. "How does that sound?"

I closed my eyes and swallowed, leaning back against his hard chest.  Claire had been in the house for five days, and in that time Tristan and  I had been very careful how we'd spoken to one another. The sexual  innuendo had ceased because I wasn't good at veiling it, I blushed way  too easily, and I couldn't control my reactions. Tristan had also been  true to his promise of not making love when she was in the house. We'd  only had sex after she'd gotten on the bus or before she'd gotten home.  For him to do this now, with Claire in the living room, and a horde of  hungry guests arriving any minute, should have made me angry or  frustrated. It should have, but this proved just how much I'd changed in  the past few weeks. Tristan was talking dirty to me, my body reacted  instantly, and I was powerless to pull away.

I licked my lips and whispered, "Would you take me from behind?"

He chuckled low in the back of his throat and reached both hands around  to the front of my trousers, first groping me and then undoing my belt.  "Would you like that?"

His husky tone spurred me on. "Yes," I answered breathily, my eyes remaining shut. "Would you lick my asshole first?"

Tristan undid my pants and slipped his hand inside my boxers. He took  ahold of my cock and stroked it as he spoke quietly in my ear. "Only if  you begged me to." I felt the cool air hit my skin as he pushed my  clothing out of the way. I was glad I had locked the bedroom door. He  fondled my balls with one hand and slid my foreskin forward, covering my  tip instead of sliding it back.

Tristan was playing with me.

I admitted, "I would beg, Tristan." He suckled on my earlobe, and my  knees nearly buckled. I reached back, over my shoulders, and looped my  arms around his neck to be sure that wouldn't happen. I whimpered. "I'd  plead for you to lick me. I'd offer to do anything as long as you used  your tongue on my asshole." His stroking was slow and firm on the base  of my cock, and I ached with need. I pushed my ass back against his  crotch and wiggled it teasingly. Tristan groaned. He moved his fingers  to the tip again, tugging on my foreskin and dipping his forefinger  inside the folds. He circled that teasing finger around my throbbing  head, and I squeezed the back of his neck as I started panting, the  tingles mounting in my groin. "Mmm, Tristan," I rasped.