Brutal waves of pleasure seized his body, flooding his veins with a rush of sensation so intense he lost all control. He let it overtake him and hung on, eyes squeezed shut as he finally collapsed. He rolled to the side to keep from crushing her, his palm on her stomach, his head next to hers. Legs still entwined, they caught their breath, letting the air dry the sweat from their skin.
Silence settled. He stroked her gently, letting her gather her thoughts. He’d always known what she was thinking before. She’d been transparent to him, an open, beautiful book only he was allowed to read. Now life had done its job, and she was hidden in shadows.
Still, he understood. He’d need to earn his way back. Showing her how good they were in bed had only been the first step. The more time he spent with her, the more it proved what he already suspected.
They still belonged to each other.
“Are you going to freak out?”
She groaned, shutting her eyes and shaking her head back and forth. He enjoyed the view of her ripe breasts swaying with her movements, strawberry nipples ripe for a taste. “Yes. What have we done?”
“We had great sex. I don’t regret it.”
“I’m still in shock. We just kissed, and now we’re naked on my couch like a pair of crazed, hormonal teens.”
“Awesome, isn’t it?” He kissed the line of her jaw, smoothing back her tangled hair. “You’re so damn beautiful.”
She opened her eyes and turned toward him. “Stop. This is bad. You need to go home. I need to think.”
“That’s exactly what you don’t need.” He stood up and discarded the condom. Then he lifted her from the couch, carrying her into the bedroom. Like the other rooms, it held purple and silver pillows. The furniture was creamy white, and the walls were a dark plum, offset by silvery accents. Pretty and feminine, yet comfortable. He pulled back the quilt and settled her in.
“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him with an adorable type of suspicion.
He shucked off his pants and climbed in beside her. “Making sure you don’t kick me out before I’m done with you.”
He watched her shudder in reaction to his words. Delighted by her response, he traced a finger down her arm and watched goose bumps pop up. Oh, yeah. She was still into him big-time. “We’re done. There’s no more. You have to go.”
He laughed, trailing his fingers over to stroke her breasts, watching her pretty nipples pinch. “I will. In the morning. We’ll talk about whatever you want then. You can analyze this, and yell at me, and deny this whole thing tomorrow. But I’m asking for tonight. I still ache for you, Syd.”
Her lips trembled. A sheen of tears misted her eyes, and her voice was fierce with anger. “Damn you. You’ve ruined everything.”
She reached for him, and he kissed her, swallowing the last of her denials, knowing he only had a few more hours to prove she was meant to be his.
chapter eleven
What had they done?
The room was quiet and shrouded in darkness. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching his muscular chest rise and fall with each breath he took. Even in sleep, his hair was perfectly mussed, combed by her fingers, the thick waves falling over his high forehead. His full lips were slightly parted.
His beautiful face reminded her of an angel at rest. His body reminded her of a sinful, delicious banquet she wanted to feast on.
The purple sheets had fallen to his waist. Her gaze took in each defined pec, his toasty-golden skin sprinkled with dark hair, leading down his flat, hard abs and disappearing from her sight. But she already knew what lay beneath the sheets. She’d touched him. Tasted him. Bitten him. Licked him. Rediscovered every glorious inch with a greed that still surprised her.
Dear God, what had they done?
She stumbled toward the window. Nerves shredded, on the verge of a panic attack, she tugged at the sash until it opened up halfway with a pop. She leaned over and sucked in a great lungful of cool air, pressing her palms flat to the glass pane.
The terrible truth twisted and writhed inside the darkest of places inside, wailing to finally escape.
Becca.
She moaned, and the memories attacked her like vicious ghosts in a haunted house.
She’d been able to deal with all the challenges of being a single mother because she was the one responsible for Becca’s happiness, and that was her only goal in life.
But now everything had changed.
Because Tristan was in her bed, and in her life.
And the truth was finally going to come out.
She dropped her face into her hands. Maybe she could push him away. Pretend it was only about sex. Maybe it wasn’t too late to backtrack and try to get back to the way things had been between them.
Because if she couldn’t, she was going to have to tell him the truth.
It had been easier when he kept her at a distance. When he refused to talk to Becca. When he was the same cold man who’d made love to her and left without a glance back. Those reasons drove her forward, reassuring her she had made the best decision for all of them.
But now he was talking about second chances. Sending her daughter flowers. Trying to embrace the woman she’d become, not the young girl she’d been.
Sydney prayed for strength to weather what was ahead for all of them.
Tristan woke up to the scent of eggs and bacon.
He rolled over, confirming her empty space in the bed. He mourned the chance to have woken her up properly this morning, but breakfast came in a close second. If his plans held, he’d have plenty of opportunities to seduce Sydney and watch her gorgeous face in the sunlight as he brought her to climax.
Groaning, he headed to the bathroom with his morning wood and took a quick cold shower. He wrapped a towel around his hips, wondering how he was going to handle going home in a shirt with no buttons. Talk about the walk of shame. Or as his brothers would term it, the walk of fame.
“Morning.”
She whipped around. Damn, she was hot. Dressed in a faded gray Adam Levine T-shirt and tight Lycra bike shorts that cupped her glorious ass, she sported bare feet and wild, unbrushed hair. Oversize black-framed glasses perched on her nose, giving her the slightly sexy nerd look men found so intriguing.
He waited for her reaction, not knowing if he’d get shyness, distance, or panic. When she smiled at him slow and sweet, his knees almost buckled.
Oh, yeah. She still held witchlike power over him.
“Morning. Becca should be home in an hour. I made bacon omelets and wheat toast.” She filled a mug with steaming brew and handed him his coffee. “I’m sorry about the shirt. I found some safety pins. Maybe if you button your jacket, it won’t be so noticeable.”
He slid onto a stool, still clad in only a towel, and stared at the perfect plate she put in front of him. “I’m not sorry at all. But I’ll take the apology if I get a breakfast like this. I think I died and reached heaven.”
She grinned. “You don’t ask for much in the afterlife.”
“Maybe just you naked, and then I’m good.”
She sipped her coffee, regarding him above the rim of her mug. “Figured you would have had your fill last night. I think we slept a whole hour.”
“One hour too much.” He forked up a bite and moaned in happiness. “So good. Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”