He kissed her, sucked her, ravaged her, until she was a quivering mound beneath him.
“Tristan,” she begged, even though she didn’t exactly know what she was asking for. “Tristan.” His fingers kept plunging, his thumb stroking, but he lifted his head slightly, his eyes hungry on hers. “Let go, Samantha. Don’t fight this.”
She shook her head, her pulse beating a thousand beats. “Tristan,” she called out again.
“I got you,” he demanded.
Her body instantly shuddered, giving in to his will. Her head fell back to the pillow, and her core clenched and pulsed all around his fingers. Her whole frame melted into the mattress, like butter under the sun. His body settled upon hers, heavy and solid, and she kissed his head, holding him firm to her breast.
“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked, but then thought better of the question. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”
He laughed on top of her, kissed her nipple, her collarbone, up to her lips where she could taste herself on his tongue.
She was his. Wherever he wanted to go, whatever he wanted to do, she was at his mercy. She was his, and she was a fool to ever think otherwise.
His phone began to vibrate in his pocket between them, causing reality to crash down upon them all at once. He closed his eyes, cringing as the phone buzzed yet again. He rolled off her to the side of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “I need to get this.”
She pushed herself from the mattress and nodded. She couldn’t see his face, but the tension in his back told her all she needed to know. It was the same person from earlier. Possibly the same person who couldn’t live without him.
She got off the bed, took his shirt from the floor, and dragged it over her head.
“Hello,” she heard him say, just as she closed the bathroom door behind her.
She looked at herself in the mirror. To her long blond hair that framed her now flushed cheeks. To Tristan’s too large t-shirt that covered her trembling body. To her eyes that pleaded with her, telling her not to admit that she was lost. But she was. Somewhere along the way she had fallen, sometimes kicking and screaming, but there was no denying it any longer. She had fallen in love with Tristan Montgomery.
It was bitter realization, and one she was reluctant to make, but she was fooling herself to think this could be only a fling. This was real, heavy, and bigger than anything she’d ever felt before. And it would shatter her soul before it was over.
Still hearing his voice through the door, she pulled the t-shirt over her head, and then turned on the water to mute out the sound. To not listen to the man she was falling in love with talking to another woman.
The water was hard and warm when she stepped into the shower. She let the stream beat down on her, hoping the feeling would offer some sort of distraction. The water warmed her, comforted her, but could never wash away the kisses he ferociously left behind.
The door to the bathroom opened a moment later, and soon Tristan was standing behind her. His body pressed against hers, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer again. She told herself not to ask, to enjoy the rest of the evening, and the body that was only hers on loan, but she couldn’t. She needed to know, she needed answers.
Turning to face him, she rested her hands on his bare chest as looked up into his eyes. She couldn’t let herself fall and not try to stop it when she knew all that waited for her was thorns. “Who was that?” she asked.
He looked into her eyes, pleading for her not to ask the question.
“Who was that?” she asked again. She asked for the sixteen-year-old girl who was too insecure to call him out on his behavior. For the girl who wasn’t strong enough to resist a six-year long relationship, even though she knew it wasn’t what she wanted.
He cleared his throat and looked over her head to grab a bottle of soap. “It was my mom.”
She ripped the curtain open, not able to bear his lies, and got out of the shower. She yanked a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her body. “Don’t lie to me.”
Her world was crashing in all around her, the walls, the ceiling. He followed after her, grabbed hold of her arms, and forced her to look up at him. “I don’t lie.”
That was the second time he’d said that to her, and her legs began to shake beneath her. “Is that who can’t live without you?” The words were angry, unbelieving, and held all the insecurities that were overflowing from her very core.
She was outing herself. Making him completely aware of what she’d done, and the expression on his face shifted in an instant. He ripped a towel from the wall, wrapped it around his waist, and went to the bedroom. “Exactly.”