“Lie down,” he ordered. I did as he said and closed my eyes, running my fingers across my chest. The anticipation of his next touch made me nervous, yet thrilled. When would he touch me, and where?
My hips arched up when I felt the wetness of his tongue sweep against my inner thigh. “I want to taste you, Lizzie. I want to taste every inch of you,” he whispered against my skin. His hands gripped my ass, and he pushed my hips up toward him as his tongue fell deep inside me. He licked me slowly and steadily as my body shook in his hold. He licked me harder and wilder as my body begged for more. He licked me deeper and longer as I tangled my fingers in his hair, wanting nothing more than him inside of me.
“Tristan, please,” I begged, my hips wiggling as he slid two fingers inside me as he continued rolling his tongue in and out of my wetness. “I want you…”
Once he pulled away, he stood up and began to unzip his jeans. “Tell me how you want it. Tell me how you want me,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I don’t want it gentle,” I whispered, short of breath. My eyes met his hard erection standing against his boxers as he stepped out of his jeans. My fingers wrapped around the edge of his boxers and within seconds, they were off. “Show me the shadows that keep you up at night. Kiss me with your darkness.”
He lifted me off the bed and placed me facing my dresser, my hands falling against the drawers. With haste, he reached for his jeans pockets, pulled out his wallet, and grabbed a condom, ripping it open with desperation and rolling it onto his hardness. Within moments he was standing behind me, his body pressed against my naked soul. His finger trailed down my back until he hit the curves of my ass, and he grasped it in his hold. “Lizzie,” he said, his breaths matching the speed of my own. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised as he grabbed my left leg and held it up in his arm.
I know, Tristan. I know.
In one thrust, he slid into my tightness with force, making me cry out as my back arched from the sensation of him entering me. As his left hand held my leg up, his right wrapped around to my front to massage my breasts.
His breaths were rough as he spoke. “You feel so good, Lizzie…God…you feel so…” His words faded as he continued to thrust into me. Being so close to Tristan—not only physically, but deep within both of our darkness—made tears form in my eyes. He was beautiful. He was scary. He was real.
This isn’t a dream. This is real.
He slid out from me and twisted me around so I was facing him.
His hands grasped around my behind, and he lifted me, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist, his body the only thing that kept me from falling. Our foreheads fell against each other’s as he slid back inside me. “Don’t close your eyes,” he begged. His eyes were filled with lust, with passion, with…love?
Or maybe it was my own love I was seeing shining through him. Either way, I liked the feeling it created in me. He kept entering me hard and pulling out slow. My core was shaking, my eyes wanting to close, but I couldn’t. They had to stay open. I had to see him.
I was seconds away…
Seconds away from my body giving way to him. Seconds away from losing myself and finding myself with Tristan Cole inside me. “I’m going to…” I muttered, my body shaking as the orgasm overtook me, my words falling away. My eyes closed and I felt his lips press against mine as my body shook against him.
“God, I love that, Lizzie. I love it so much when you lose yourself against me.” He smiled against my lips as I moaned into him.
“I want all of you,” I begged. “Please.”
“I’m yours.”
That night we fell asleep in each other’s arms. In the middle of the night, we woke up, and he slid inside me again, finding ourselves together, losing ourselves together. Early the next morning, we touched each other again. Every time he entered me, it was as if he was apologizing for something. Every time he kissed me, it was as if he was begging for my forgiveness. Every time he blinked, I swore I saw his soul.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Elizabeth
When I woke up, I rolled over and noticed Tristan was missing from my bed. A part of me wondered if the night before had been a dream, but when my fingers landed on the pillowcase beside me, I picked up a note.
You’re so beautiful when you snore. —TC
I held the paper to my chest before I reread it over and over again. The sound of a lawnmower was the only thing that stopped me from reading the note again. I tossed on a pair of shorts and a tank top, wanting to go watch Tristan cutting my grass and kiss his lips gently, but once I stepped onto my porch, I stopped.
He wasn’t mowing my grass.
He was cutting his lawn.
To everyone else in the world, it wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal, seeing a man cutting his grass. But I knew it meant more. I knew Tristan Cole had spent months sleepwalking through life, and today, he was slowly waking up.