He pressed his lips to her neck. She didn't even stir-out like a light, bless her. She was so …
He blinked and froze.
What was Kat doing in his bed? Last night they'd argued … the memories were blurry and tinged with gaping blank spots. He did remember how awkward dinner had been, the revenge game their hands had played beneath the table. Then he was drinking … with Brianna.
Brianna. Pain shot through his skull and his eyeballs. He shut his eyes, and lifted a hand to his head, rubbing at his temples as he stifled a groan of agony. After Brianna, he couldn't remember anything except a vague notion that he'd spent part of the night bent over a toilet, retching like a young pup after his first pint. He'd had too many, but that wasn't new. Having a black spot in his memory was not good. He was going to have a chat with Brianna soon.
But first he had to deal with Kat. He had to get her back into her own bed before their parents discovered they'd slept together the night before. Kat had been right, as much as he didn't want to admit it. If they got caught, it would devastate his mother and her father. He loved his mother and didn't want to hurt her. He knew Clayton would be furious if he realized Tristan was sleeping with his daughter.
Frowning, he forced himself to sit up in his bed and let go of Kat. He was shirtless, she in her pajamas. It didn't look like they'd done anything except sleep. Tristan was thankful for that, but only because he wanted to remember every night with her, and losing a memory was infuriating.
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Six a.m. With a low curse, Tristan climbed out of bed and walked around to Kat's side.
Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her down the hall to her room and deposited her on her bed. She'd likely lost sleep last night when he'd come home, and he wanted to make sure she got enough rest. He pulled back the covers and slid her beneath the sheets. She barely stirred, murmuring something soft and unintelligible before nuzzling her pillow and drifting back to sleep.
That strange heat filled his chest again, hot as arousal but not the same-something just as potent and mystifying, but tempered with a fondness he couldn't explain. Tristan leaned over and kissed her cheek. Never in his life had he kissed a woman who wasn't awake, or without a purpose to seduce her.
This kiss was different. It came from a need deep inside him to connect with her, to show her, even in her sleep, that he cared about her.
I know I shouldn't. Too bloody dangerous. But I do. God help me, I do.
He tucked the blankets around her and turned off the lights before he closed the door and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Cranking the handles, he turned on the hot water in the shower. Then he stripped out of his clothes and got in. The hiss of the water on the tile and the feel of it on his skin relaxed his tense muscles. He braced an arm on the wall and leaned his head against it, letting the burn of the shower sizzle against his skin.
Tristan tried to resurrect moments from the previous night, but they slipped off into the corners of his mind like fractured shadows, twisting away, eluding him every time he reached for them. They left him empty, shaking, and still a little nauseous. But one thing was clear: He had to decide what he was going to do about Kat. Dancing around each other and their undeniable attraction would not end well.
After his shower, he headed down to the kitchen. It was nearly seven a.m., unusually early for him, but there was little point in going back to his own bed alone.
"Tristan." Clayton's pleasant greeting halted him in his tracks. "Have a good night's sleep?" Kat's father sat at a small nook table, sipping from a white coffee mug.
Tristan's heartbeat spiked, and the sudden tension in his shoulders made his neck hurt. He tried to relax. There was no way Clayton could know Kat had spent the night with him. Tristan debated answering the question. He couldn't tell the truth.
I slept well, considering I held your daughter in my arms, dreaming of all the ways I want to take her in my bed. That wouldn't go over well.
"Well enough. You?" he asked as he walked over to the stove to heat water for tea.
"Fine." Clayton flattened his paper on the table and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
Tristan almost smiled.
A lesser man would have felt threatened by another man in his home, but not Tristan. While he waited for the water to heat up in the kettle, he leaned back, hands braced on the lip of the counter on either side of his hips.
"Are you all right with me marrying your mother? I didn't have a chance to meet you before I proposed. Lizzy and I both got a little eager. Now she's afraid we rushed things and that we should have talked to you kids first." Clayton seemed to be waiting for some type of reaction.
Tristan crossed his arms and met Clayton stare for stare. "My mother is a grown woman who is allowed to make her own choices. So long as you don't treat her like my father did, we shouldn't have a problem."
"Fair enough. That's something I can promise you." A dark look lingered on Clayton's face, and he changed whatever he'd been about to say. "I love Lizzy. Madly," he added, the pain in his eyes fading, replaced by a soft warmth.
"Good." It was all Tristan could get out. His throat tightened, and he had trouble swallowing. If his mother was happy, then he was happy.
"I know my daughter is a little younger than you, but I hope you don't mind spending some time with her. She's hesitant about making friends, which is my fault. I moved her much too often. I think someone like you, as an older brother, could really help her gain some confidence to explore life. I'm sure you have a lot you want to do while you're home for Christmas, but it would mean a lot if you could include Kat." Clayton sipped his coffee again.
"I-" Before he could reply, his mother strode in, all smiles.
"Dear!" She walked over to where Clayton was sitting and brushed her lips over his before turning her face his way. "Tristan, you're up early."
"Mum." Tristan smiled.
"Did Clayton tell you? I've got a great idea for you and Kat to bond today. We need a new tree, and I thought you two could select one for us."
His mother's joy was impossible to resist, and he found himself nodding and murmuring, "Anything you want, Mum." As she embraced him, he noticed Clayton watching them, a smile half-hidden behind his coffee mug.
He thinks I'll be a good older brother to Kat … He has no idea what I really want to do to her.
A day alone with Kat. Even though he should've been running like hell in the opposite direction for both their sakes, he couldn't say no. The question was, how upset she was going to be when she found out? It was a pity he couldn't kiss away any protests. Kissing was off-limits. No matter how much he wanted to pin her against the wall and remind her just how hot a single kiss between them could be.
* * *
"Christmas tree shopping?" Kat glared at her dad. "No way. I'm not doing that."
Her father stood in her bedroom doorway, his mouth formed a hard line. It unsettled her. She didn't like to upset her father.
"What?" she snapped.
Her father sighed. "What's the matter, honey? Tristan is happy to go with you."
And that was the problem. Tristan.
"You know he's a womanizing playboy, right? You're okay with me being around him?" she asked, testing her father's reaction. It was stupid of her to want him to tell her to steer clear of Tristan. It wouldn't have erased that irresistible urge to be with him, but it would have helped buoy her attempts to deny his charm. Instead of warning her off, her dad was practically shoving her into Tristan's arms.
Her father just laughed. "Lizzy warned me. He's a bit wild, and I know he's ended up in the papers over some scandals, but Lizzy says he's a good kid, and the photos damage his father more than him. He's been good so far, and I'm not worried about you, honey. You're not his type."
Kat winced. Ouch. Cut to the bone by my own father.
"Kat, please. He's going to be family soon. It would make Lizzy happy, and what makes her happy makes me happy. Would you do it for me?" Her father patted her shoulder in encouragement.
She stared at him in complete shock. He'd never asked her to do anything before, not like this. Did it really matter to him that she spent time with Tristan?
"Okay." She sighed.
And that was how, two hours later, she was rushing to keep up with Tristan's long strides as he headed across the intersection, past waiting cars, toward the massive edifice of Harrods department store. The windows lining the sidewalks were wreathed with garlands wound with red silk ribbons and glittering Christmas lights, which accented the window displays. Scenes full of Santas and elves carrying presents to full-sized sleighs filled the massive windows. Others depicted Christmas through the ages, with various mannequins in elaborate costumes around fireplaces from the late Victorian era through the modern day. Each window was a stunning display of color, lights, and decorations.