I set a trembling hand on his cheek, overwhelmed at his words and the gesture behind them. He watched my favorite TV show because of me. For me. That he would quote some of the sexiest dialogue I’d ever heard—I wanted to jump bald, sweaty Harry Goldenblatt the first time I watched him make that brazen, impassioned speech to Charlotte—touches me.
Such a small thing, really, but it means so much. It means he cares.
And that is the one thing that’s turning me on more than anything else.
Tristan takes my hand from his cheek and kisses it, just before he yanks me close and devours me. There’s no other word to describe how he’s kissing me. It’s all consuming, his lips sealed over mine, his hand cradling the back of my head as his tongue explores my mouth. I kiss him back just as feverishly, desperation clawing at my insides as I whimper low in my throat. Our tongues thrust against each other in a heated rhythm, over and under. Under and over. Again and again.
I break the kiss first to catch a breath and his hands are everywhere, all at once. Sliding over my body, along my sides, dipping beneath the hem of my sweater to touch my stomach. His fingers are like a brand. Scalding hot, yet making me shiver, my heart race, my head spin.
“This needs to go,” he murmurs, tugging on my sweater before he dives in for my neck, sucking the sensitive skin there just before he nibbles it. I close my eyes, my senses bombarded with all things Tristan. His hands skim up, stopping just below my breasts, his thumbs coasting up. Along the lace trimmed cup of my bra, then touching my bare skin. I suck in a breath, goose bumps rising and I feel him smile against my neck before he lifts his head.
“What are you hiding underneath here?” The little half-smile teasing his lips makes my heart flutter. He is so incredibly beautiful. Just looking at him sets my head spinning. Having his hands on me while I’m looking at him?
I’m surprised I’m still standing.
“Take off my sweater and you’ll see,” I tease, my voice this throaty dare I’ve never heard before. I sound like a total sexpot.
Clearly Tristan likes it from the heat that’s flaring in his gaze. He grabs the hem of my sweater and slowly pulls it up, his teeth sinking into his lower lip the last thing I see as he tugs the sweater up and over my head, sending it flying across the room.
“Jesus,” he breathes, his gaze locked on my chest. I don’t have much. If a guy is attracted to me physically, it’s not because of my stellar rack. Sometimes I think that the lingerie collection was a way for me to compensate where I lack by wearing expensive, beautiful bras and panties. “That bra is like…the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Well. I’m guessing he’s seen a lot of bras so I’m surprised.
He touches me carefully, like I might not be real as he settles those big hands at my waist and slides them up, over my ribcage, until they rest just beneath my bra. He cups me, tests my miniscule weight, can probably feel the padding that lines my bra but I don’t care.
I’m savoring this, the way stares at me, his gaze full of want.
Need.
A shuddering sigh escapes when his fingers play over the tops of my breasts, trace the delicate lace, smoothing over the silky black and white polka dotted cups. My nipples harden and my breasts are heavy, the bra suddenly feeling like a constraint.
“Did you wear this for me?” His smoky voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“Do you like it?”
“I fucking love it,” he says without hesitation as he watches his hands play with my breasts. “I can’t stop looking at you.”
I step closer to him, rest my hands on his shoulders and whisper next to his ear, “The top matches the bottom.”
“So you did wear this for me.” His hands immediately go to the waistband of my jeans, his fingers fumbling with the snap. “Take ‘em off,” he demands.
“You take them off.” I pull away from his searching hands and go to the bed, a shocked huff of laughter escaping when he slips his arms around me from behind, pushing my hair away from my neck so he can kiss me there. His mouth lingers, his teeth nibble and I shiver, trying to shy away.
“Didn’t know you were such a tease,” he murmurs, his fingers back at the snap of my jeans. I slap his hands away and turn within his embrace to face him, loving the heated glow in his brilliant blue gaze. “Those jeans need to come off, Alexandria.”
“I know.” I reach for the hem of his shirt and pull on it a little. “But turnabout is fair play or whatever the heck that means.”
Chuckling, he lets go of me and reaches behind his neck, tugging his shirt off with one pull. I suck in a breath at the chest that’s revealed, my gaze bouncing, unable to stay in one spot. He’s beautiful everywhere, a work of art with defined pecs, a flat stomach and a light smattering of hair in the center of his chest. No intimidating washboard abs but he does have a golden brown trail that starts just below his navel and disappears just beneath the waistband of his jeans.
I wanna see where that trail of hair leads to.
“Wow,” I whisper and he chuckles again.
“That’s exactly how I felt when I first saw you,” he murmurs, cupping my cheeks with his hands before he leans in and kisses me.
I forget everything when his mouth is on mine. All I can concentrate on is the way he makes me feel. How my body reacts to his touch, his taste, his words. He whispers that I’m beautiful and butterflies erupt in my stomach. He reaches for the front of my jeans, slides his fingers down inside of them until he’s touching the lacy top of my panties and I’m instantly wet. And when my hands finally make contact with the warm, hard wall of his chest, my knees wobble. I can’t form words, I can’t think, all I can do is run my hands all over my skin like I’m trying to memorize it for later.
Somehow we end up on the bed in a tangled heap. His hand goes to my back and undoes my bra snap expertly, the cups springing free, revealing my lacking chest. He pulls the bra straps from my shoulders, down my arms before he tosses it on the side of the bed. Self-consciousness rears its ugly head and I pull away from him, my arms immediately coming up to cover my chest.
“Hey, hey, what happened to my teasing little angel?” His smiling face is hovering above mine, his gaze zeroed in on my face. He gently pries my arms away from my chest, his fingers brushing against my breasts and I suck in a breath. “Let me see you.”
My arms fall to my sides and I lay there like a virgin sacrifice. Eyes tightly closed, body tense, limbs trembling as I wait for his assessment. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Not thirty seconds ago I was teasing him and laughing and now I act like he’s going to take one look at my boobs and jam. I’m being ridiculous. I know it.
But I can’t help it.
“So pretty,” he says reverently. I crack open my eyes to find him watching me with a bemused expression on his face. Well, bemused tempered with arousal because he also looks like he wants to jump me. “Relax. You’re too tense.”
He then proceeds to relieve the tension with his mouth on my breasts, blazing a trail of damp heat all over my skin, racing over me in a rush of fevered lips and tongue. One hand cups a breast while he sucks the other nipple in his mouth, lashing his tongue over my aching, pebbled flesh. I curl my hands into his hair, holding him close, arching into his mouth. I’m reckless with need, wrapping my legs around his, realizing that I have my stupid boots on and I pull on his hair tight, making him lift his head.
Such a small thing, really, but it means so much. It means he cares.
And that is the one thing that’s turning me on more than anything else.
Tristan takes my hand from his cheek and kisses it, just before he yanks me close and devours me. There’s no other word to describe how he’s kissing me. It’s all consuming, his lips sealed over mine, his hand cradling the back of my head as his tongue explores my mouth. I kiss him back just as feverishly, desperation clawing at my insides as I whimper low in my throat. Our tongues thrust against each other in a heated rhythm, over and under. Under and over. Again and again.
I break the kiss first to catch a breath and his hands are everywhere, all at once. Sliding over my body, along my sides, dipping beneath the hem of my sweater to touch my stomach. His fingers are like a brand. Scalding hot, yet making me shiver, my heart race, my head spin.
“This needs to go,” he murmurs, tugging on my sweater before he dives in for my neck, sucking the sensitive skin there just before he nibbles it. I close my eyes, my senses bombarded with all things Tristan. His hands skim up, stopping just below my breasts, his thumbs coasting up. Along the lace trimmed cup of my bra, then touching my bare skin. I suck in a breath, goose bumps rising and I feel him smile against my neck before he lifts his head.
“What are you hiding underneath here?” The little half-smile teasing his lips makes my heart flutter. He is so incredibly beautiful. Just looking at him sets my head spinning. Having his hands on me while I’m looking at him?
I’m surprised I’m still standing.
“Take off my sweater and you’ll see,” I tease, my voice this throaty dare I’ve never heard before. I sound like a total sexpot.
Clearly Tristan likes it from the heat that’s flaring in his gaze. He grabs the hem of my sweater and slowly pulls it up, his teeth sinking into his lower lip the last thing I see as he tugs the sweater up and over my head, sending it flying across the room.
“Jesus,” he breathes, his gaze locked on my chest. I don’t have much. If a guy is attracted to me physically, it’s not because of my stellar rack. Sometimes I think that the lingerie collection was a way for me to compensate where I lack by wearing expensive, beautiful bras and panties. “That bra is like…the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Well. I’m guessing he’s seen a lot of bras so I’m surprised.
He touches me carefully, like I might not be real as he settles those big hands at my waist and slides them up, over my ribcage, until they rest just beneath my bra. He cups me, tests my miniscule weight, can probably feel the padding that lines my bra but I don’t care.
I’m savoring this, the way stares at me, his gaze full of want.
Need.
A shuddering sigh escapes when his fingers play over the tops of my breasts, trace the delicate lace, smoothing over the silky black and white polka dotted cups. My nipples harden and my breasts are heavy, the bra suddenly feeling like a constraint.
“Did you wear this for me?” His smoky voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“Do you like it?”
“I fucking love it,” he says without hesitation as he watches his hands play with my breasts. “I can’t stop looking at you.”
I step closer to him, rest my hands on his shoulders and whisper next to his ear, “The top matches the bottom.”
“So you did wear this for me.” His hands immediately go to the waistband of my jeans, his fingers fumbling with the snap. “Take ‘em off,” he demands.
“You take them off.” I pull away from his searching hands and go to the bed, a shocked huff of laughter escaping when he slips his arms around me from behind, pushing my hair away from my neck so he can kiss me there. His mouth lingers, his teeth nibble and I shiver, trying to shy away.
“Didn’t know you were such a tease,” he murmurs, his fingers back at the snap of my jeans. I slap his hands away and turn within his embrace to face him, loving the heated glow in his brilliant blue gaze. “Those jeans need to come off, Alexandria.”
“I know.” I reach for the hem of his shirt and pull on it a little. “But turnabout is fair play or whatever the heck that means.”
Chuckling, he lets go of me and reaches behind his neck, tugging his shirt off with one pull. I suck in a breath at the chest that’s revealed, my gaze bouncing, unable to stay in one spot. He’s beautiful everywhere, a work of art with defined pecs, a flat stomach and a light smattering of hair in the center of his chest. No intimidating washboard abs but he does have a golden brown trail that starts just below his navel and disappears just beneath the waistband of his jeans.
I wanna see where that trail of hair leads to.
“Wow,” I whisper and he chuckles again.
“That’s exactly how I felt when I first saw you,” he murmurs, cupping my cheeks with his hands before he leans in and kisses me.
I forget everything when his mouth is on mine. All I can concentrate on is the way he makes me feel. How my body reacts to his touch, his taste, his words. He whispers that I’m beautiful and butterflies erupt in my stomach. He reaches for the front of my jeans, slides his fingers down inside of them until he’s touching the lacy top of my panties and I’m instantly wet. And when my hands finally make contact with the warm, hard wall of his chest, my knees wobble. I can’t form words, I can’t think, all I can do is run my hands all over my skin like I’m trying to memorize it for later.
Somehow we end up on the bed in a tangled heap. His hand goes to my back and undoes my bra snap expertly, the cups springing free, revealing my lacking chest. He pulls the bra straps from my shoulders, down my arms before he tosses it on the side of the bed. Self-consciousness rears its ugly head and I pull away from him, my arms immediately coming up to cover my chest.
“Hey, hey, what happened to my teasing little angel?” His smiling face is hovering above mine, his gaze zeroed in on my face. He gently pries my arms away from my chest, his fingers brushing against my breasts and I suck in a breath. “Let me see you.”
My arms fall to my sides and I lay there like a virgin sacrifice. Eyes tightly closed, body tense, limbs trembling as I wait for his assessment. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Not thirty seconds ago I was teasing him and laughing and now I act like he’s going to take one look at my boobs and jam. I’m being ridiculous. I know it.
But I can’t help it.
“So pretty,” he says reverently. I crack open my eyes to find him watching me with a bemused expression on his face. Well, bemused tempered with arousal because he also looks like he wants to jump me. “Relax. You’re too tense.”
He then proceeds to relieve the tension with his mouth on my breasts, blazing a trail of damp heat all over my skin, racing over me in a rush of fevered lips and tongue. One hand cups a breast while he sucks the other nipple in his mouth, lashing his tongue over my aching, pebbled flesh. I curl my hands into his hair, holding him close, arching into his mouth. I’m reckless with need, wrapping my legs around his, realizing that I have my stupid boots on and I pull on his hair tight, making him lift his head.
