All or Nothing at All
Page 45

Their gazes locked. Her heart stopped, and all the smart comebacks and good intentions to buy space evaporated and drifted into the cosmos.
This time she pulled him to her, desperate for his mouth and lips and tongue. He didn’t make her wait, lifting her up to crush her to him, a low groan rumbling from his chest. He kissed her with full purpose and laser-like intention, his tongue thrusting through the seam of her lips and diving in, sweeping around in a hungry hunt for everything she had.
Desperate for more, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, arching into his erection without apology, wanting it all. He turned and set her on the cheap countertop so he could step between her legs. Thighs splayed open, she grew wet in an instant, and the crazed need for him took over, pushing away any logical thoughts except to be close.
His teeth bit into her lower lip. She gasped, and he swallowed the sound, his tongue licking away the hurt. “Tristan, what’s happening? We can’t do this. Not here.”
“Yes, we can.” He unsnapped her jeans and pulled them down her legs, his hand sliding up her thigh and hitting the edge of her cotton panties, already damp. “No one’s coming in.”
She twisted for more even as she struggled for sanity. He played his fingers over her swollen flesh like a conductor. “It’s not professional. We’re on work premises.”
“It’s officially after hours. God, you’re so wet. I need this. Need to show you how good we are together. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Her fingernails bit into his shoulders as he traced an erotic pattern over her panties. “Oh, this is bad. This isn’t healthy. This isn’t— What are you doing?” She blinked through a haze as he slowly knelt before her. He was so tall, his head was directly facing her sweet spot at the perfect level. His eyes burned amber flame.
“I’m on my knees, and I’m gonna show you how good it is when I beg for forgiveness.”
She cried out his name, tugging hard at his hair as he leaned in, his warm breath rushing over her sensitive tissues. With adept grace, he tugged her panties down her legs until they dangled from her ankle. He licked his lips.
“Oh, Tristan, you shouldn’t—”
“Yes, I should.”
His open mouth hit her sensitive clit, and she was gone.
Nothing mattered but the mastery of his swirling tongue, the pressure of his lips, the gentle scrape of his teeth. He pleasured her without apology, licking her essence until she was a wild thing, writhing to get closer, pushed toward climax and held ruthlessly at the edge by his skill.
“You taste so damn sweet,” he growled, using his thumbs to open her wider. “Give in. Just let me take you where you want to go.”
And she did. He gave her no choice as he sucked her clit and worshipped her dripping core, and then the convulsions seized her, wracking her body as if a storm tossed her from the waves to shore. She rode it out, his dirty, adoring words taking her to the limit, and then she sagged boneless in his arms.
He nuzzled her inner thighs, kissing her, then slowly pulled her panties back on. He fastened her jeans over her trembling thighs and slowly stood.
She blinked, dazed, still holding on to him with a desperate grip. “I’m not going anywhere, Syd,” he said in his dark, deep voice. “You can push me away, but I’ll push back. Now, I’m asking to take you and your daughter to dinner tonight. Will you go with me?”
It took her a while to answer. Words were something she still couldn’t seem to form. “That was a dirty play.”
He smiled wickedly, his fingers straightening her hair. “I like to play dirty. Think you can handle it?”
His remark held a deeper meaning. He was asking if she was willing to try to meet him on these new terms. He was giving her the choice of running scared or meeting him with her head held high, able to hold her own ground. It was a heady feeling, because it showed a respect for the woman she’d become. He’d use her body to win, but it was still up to her. Yes, he’d play dirty, but he also told her she could match him.
And she could.
A thrill shot through her. “No fancy steakhouses. Becca still likes mac and cheese or chicken fingers.”
“Done.”
“Seven p.m.”
“Thank you.”
She pressed her forehead to his. “Thank you. For, well, everything.”
He laughed and lifted her from the counter. Licked his lips and winked.
“My pleasure.”
They left the house holding hands.
chapter thirteen

Tristan smiled at the two females seated across from him and felt a sense of satisfaction. He’d decided to go to Raven’s restaurant, My Place, where the chicken fingers were the best in town and the atmosphere was fun and comfortable. The sweet potato fries weren’t bad, either. He’d begun to have a bit of a craving for them on a regular basis. “Mama, when do you think I can come play poker with you?” Becca asked, busily attacking her coloring book with a handful of bright crayons.
Sydney met his amused look. “When you’re twenty-one,” she said.
“The same age I need to be to drink wine?”
Tristan laughed out loud at her cheeky question. He was more comfortable talking with her now after the recital.
“Correct,” Sydney said.
He reached for a chip and swiped it in salsa. “I’m grown up, and even I don’t want to play poker with your mom.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?”
“’Cause she cheats.”
Her giggles charmed him. “She cheats at Monopoly Junior, too. She always seems to have more money than me. I think she takes it when I’m not looking.”
Sydney sniffed. “I invest my money properly so I get more in rent. I certainly do not cheat.”
“And you always get mad if I land on Boardwalk and don’t buy it.”
“Because that’s the best property!”
“It’s too expensive.”
“Bet you would buy it with my money,” Sydney muttered, grabbing a chip.
“Your money is different.”
Tristan clamped back a smile. The two of them could do stand-up comedy. “Are you looking forward to your birthday, Becca?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Yes, I can’t wait. It’s going to be a princess party, so we get to dress up in gowns and shoes and crowns! The cake will have pink frosting, too.”