“We can order room service. I know you love the chef’s French toast.”
Talking to this Tristan throws me off. It’s different from having a conversation with the leader of the dark fae. Times like these, I can pretend that he’s just a guy asking me to breakfast. Which makes it difficult to say no.
I sigh, a grin touching my lips. “You do know your audience.”
“I’ll see you soon,” he murmurs.
I throw everything I’ll need for tonight into a suitcase and head out.
I arrive at the Westbrook Hotel half an hour later and scan my ID card to get in the back door. Skylar hooked me up with it a couple of weeks ago so I wouldn’t have to come in through the guest entrance and get let into the office. Now I can get into the building through any door.
I fidget with my phone on the ride to the office and step off the elevator to find Max sitting at the desk.
“You’re here early, blondie,” he says.
I nod. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“I see. I think Tristan’s in his office.”
“Great,” I say. “What are you doing here this early?”
“I spent the night at Oliver’s and didn’t feel like going to my place when I knew I’d have to come here later on anyway.”
I arch a brow. “You stayed at the dorm? Things seem to be getting pretty serious with you guys. You haven’t known him that long.”
His eyes narrow a fraction. “Say what you’re thinking, Aurora.”
I shrug. “I’m a bit concerned, is all. He’s one of my closest friends. I’m looking out for him.”
“Do you think I’m going to hurt him?”
I shake my head, recalling how he looked at Oliver the entire time we were at the bar. “No, I know you won’t, but there are so many things he doesn’t know about this world that could hurt him.”
“We’ve barely hung out, blondie, so chill,” he says with an edge to his voice.
“All right, I’m not trying to piss you off, Max, but you can’t blame me for showing concern for my friend.”
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He turns back to his computer, and I don’t exist anymore.
I shake off the bad mood talking to Max for five minutes causes and walk down the hall to Tristan’s office. I knock a few times and let myself in. “Tristan?” I call, glancing around.
“He’s still upstairs,” Skylar says as she walks in from the connecting conference room.
“Oh, hey. I’m, uh, glad you’re okay.”
She nods, her lips almost forming a smile. “Thanks. Tristan is waiting for you.”
I nod and walk back to the elevator and ride up to the penthouse.
“I thought we said breakfast at the office, Tristan. I told you, I don’t think—” My voice stops working when my eyes land on Tristan in the kitchen with nothing but a towel tied dangerously low on his hips. My mouth goes dry, and I have to swallow several times before I can speak again. “What . . . are you doing?”
He grins slowly, enjoying my reaction to his all but nakedness. “Making breakfast. Turns out I make better French toast than the chef downstairs.”
I cross my arms, then panic. I didn’t put on a bra this morning. Thank goodness I threw on a heavy sweatshirt before I left. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I turn my face to the side. “This isn’t what we agreed on.”
“I thought this might be better,” he says.
I sigh. “Tristan—”
“I’m going to go put some clothes on so you can focus on something other than my body, and then we’ll have a nice, casual breakfast before work.”
My eyes snap back to his, and I gape at him.
He smirks before walking away, and damn it if I don’t stare until he’s out of sight.
Once Tristan returns, wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, I sit at the counter on one of the bar stools and watch him slice an orange. The whole scene is way too domestic, and it makes my chest ache with longing.
“Everything is set for tonight,” I say.
He glances at me and shakes his head. “No work talk before breakfast.”
“I . . . okay, what do you want to talk about?”
“Why don’t you tell me about school?” He drops the orange slices onto a plate with strawberries and blueberries before he whisks the eggs and milk for the French toast.
I grab one of the strawberries and bite into it. “I’ve been working on my resume and portfolio since the beginning of the semester, so after graduation I can apply to positions right away. There are several businesses in Rockdale I have in mind, and a few out of town as well.”
“Have you considered mine?”
I pause. “I wasn’t aware there was a position open.”
His lips twitch. “There isn’t.”
My brows inch closer before I shake my head. “I’m not going to work for you, Tristan.”
He dips one slice of bread into the egg before laying it in a frying pan, then does the same with another. “I figured you’d say that.”
“Good, then you won’t bring it up again.”
He bites into a strawberry. “I won’t bring it up again.”
I smile. “You have powdered sugar, right?”
“Top shelf in that cupboard behind you.” He inclines his head toward the row of storage behind me, so I slip off the stool and open the door. I reach up on my tiptoes and can almost grab it. I jump a little and still can’t manage. I hear a faint laugh behind me before an arm extends past mine and pulls it down, setting it on the counter in front of me.
“There you go,” Tristan murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“Turn around,” he instructs in a deep voice. I don’t feel the mental pull I imagine would come with his mind manipulation if it worked on me, but hell if I don’t want to do what he says anyway.
“No,” I breathe, unable to keep my eyes from fluttering shut. “If I turn around, you’re going to kiss me.”
“Am I?” The amusement is clear in his voice.
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Hmm . . .” His voice trails off to a light hum as his lips press against the side of my neck, just under my ear. “I can’t do that.”
“We should eat,” I say.
He inhales. “I couldn’t agree more.” He nips my earlobe, and I gasp.
“That’s not what I meant.” I press my lips together, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth pooling in my stomach and between my thighs. My pulse thrums loud throughout my entire body, and I know he can feel his effect on me.
He slides an arm around my waist and guides me back against his chest. My cheeks flush when I feel him against me.
I hold my breath. “Tristan.”
He spins me around, keeping a small distance between us. “You affect me too, Rory. I thought you should know.”
I swallow, forcing a nod.
“And you were right,” he murmurs, dipping his face closer.
“About?” My voice is strained, my senses overwhelmed by him, his arms on either side of me, his cologne tickling my nose, his closeness warming my skin.