“You’re providing a weak argument.” His dark-eyed look sets my body ablaze. “I can hear your heart,” he murmurs.
“Good to know I’m still breathing,” I mutter. Sarcasm, my automatic defense against anxiety.
When he chuckles, a wicked shiver runs through me, and my mind goes places I wish I could say it hasn’t before.
“There’s that fire I told you about.”
I uncross my arms and let them fall to my sides. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”
“Why? Because you know I’m right about what’s going on between us?”
I shake my head.
“You’re afraid because you can’t control how you feel.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re talking like this isn’t affecting you.”
“I’m not the one fighting it,” he says.
“Don’t you wonder why I am? This isn’t—I can’t see any way for this to work out well. I don’t understand why I feel whatever this is for you because I know I shouldn’t. You would think that might deter me, that I might be able to walk away from this because of everything that’s happened.” My heart races while my chest rises and falls in quick successions.
“But you can’t,” he says.
“Shut up,” I snap, breathless, grabbing his face in my hands. “Just . . . shut up.” My lips collide with his in the same moment his hands drop to my hips and pull me closer. Eyes closed, I deepen the kiss, sliding my fingers into his hair, tugging at the ends. He growls, gripping my hips tighter as his mouth devours mine. My lips part in a moan, and his tongue slides in, brushing against mine and flicking across the roof of my mouth. My pulse pounds in my ears. My breasts tingle. Pressed flush against his body, a delicious warmth spreads through me, and the world fades away.
I spend the ride to the hotel in a daze. All I can think about is how everything feels so right after I’ve spent weeks trying to convince myself it’s wrong.
It’s silent between us from the time we get into the car until we reach the penthouse. I glance around the place. The simple, sleek, and modern elegance of it catches me off guard every time, even though I’ve been here before.
Tristan steps into my line of sight with dark eyes and a wicked curve on his lips. “What are you thinking about?”
I press my lips together, trying to form an answer. “A lot, to be honest.”
“Can I help with that?” he purrs, slipping his arms around me, pulling me toward him.
A smile curls my lips, and I lean into him, sliding my arms around his neck. “This is weird to me,” I say.
“What’s that? Me touching you?”
I laugh. “Me letting you touch me.”
“Any time you want me to stop, you say the word.”
“Okay,” I whisper, but I don’t want him to. In fact, I’ll be disappointed if he does.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes locked with mine.
I swallow, trying to alleviate the dryness in my throat. “I trust you,” I answer, and I mean it. Had he asked me that a month ago, I would’ve laughed in his face, but now? Things are different between us, so yeah, I do trust him.
“Good,” he says, and then his lips are on my skin, trailing up my neck. Kissing. Licking. Sucking.
I hold onto him, sighing softly, which encourages him. He kisses my jaw, my temple, and the corner of my mouth before his lips close over mine. I gasp into his mouth when his lower half presses against me, my mind swimming in a pleasant haze. My eyes close and my hips press into him, making him groan against my lips.
I jump when his phone goes off in his pocket, and we break apart. He pulls it out with a growl and swears. “I have to take this,” he says. He swipes at the screen and barks into the phone. “What is it?”
There are several beats of silence, and then, “God dammit. I’ll be right there.” He shoves the phone back in his pocket. “I’m needed downstairs.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He thrusts a hand through his hair. “A group of light fae attacked Skylar after Max left with your friend.”
Jules is attacking fae who mean something to Tristan, striking closer to home.
My eyes widen. “Is she . . . ?”
“She’s alive. Barely.”
“I’m so sorry, Tristan.”
He nods, his posture stiff. “Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I stop him before he can turn away. “Be careful,” I say in a firm voice and lean up to kiss him. He returns the kiss chastely, and he’s gone.
The Westbrook Inc. Annual Charity Gala is here. Weeks of planning and overtime spent with people who used to hate me went into this event. I’ve been working my ass off. Every day for over a week, I’ve been putting on the finishing touches between lectures and homework, but it’s ready. The gala is tonight, and my stomach is filled with nerves and excitement.
Skylar recovered from the attack well, considering she almost died. Despite our rocky start, I’m glad she’s okay. The light fae attacking Skylar makes me more worried for Allison.
Tristan wanted me to stay over last night, but I declined. As much as that would’ve made this morning run smoother by already being at the hotel, I need to put a bit of distance between us. There’s no more denying what we feel for each other, and I’ve accepted that—for the most part—but I need to keep a clear head. I haven’t slept at the hotel since that night after the bar a week ago. I’m not sure Tristan slept at all with the uproar over the attack on Skylar. He and Max stayed with her while she healed. Meanwhile, I curled up on the couch in Tristan’s living room in front of the fireplace—I couldn’t bring myself to stay in his bed.
I wake up over an hour before my alarm is set to go off, but I can’t get back to sleep. When I peek over and see Allison asleep on her bed, I breathe easier. When she’s here, that means she isn’t sleeping at Evan’s. It’s not that I don’t want my best friend to be happy—that’s all I want, but I can’t stand knowing she could get hurt, or be prosecuted for blatantly disobeying fae law.
I toss back my comforter and stare at the ceiling before getting out of bed. I tiptoe into the bathroom and get into the shower. Today is going to be a long day.
After I’ve gone through the motions of washing and conditioning my hair, I let the hot water cascade over me until it loses its heat. I towel dry my hair and change into a sweater and leggings. I don’t plan on putting on my dress until the last moment.
I peek my head back into the room to make sure Allison is still asleep and notice my phone ringing on my dresser.
“Hello?” I whisper.
“I wasn’t sure you would be awake yet,” Tristan says. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I step out into the hallway, closing the door behind me. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”
“Tonight is a big deal, Rory. You’ve put weeks of work into this event. I know what that means to you.”
“Oh. Well, yeah,” I mumble.
“Would you like to join me for breakfast?”
I catch my lower lip between my teeth and lean against the wall, trying not to smile. “I don’t know, Tristan.”