crushes his mouth to mine. There's a fierce, quiet possession in that kiss that steals my breath away. It also feels like maybe … Windsor isn't the impermeable, unshakable force he pretends to be. It feels like he needs me in that moment, and I like it. I want to be there for him the way he was for me from the first second we met.
“The pajamas are quite nice, love. Very sexy.” He pulls back and moves over to the chair near the fireplace, sitting down like his body's just a little too heavy to carry around comfortably.
“So … how was the Club meeting?” I ask, clearing my throat as Miranda groans and stirs, mostly because Creed is yanking on her hair. Nobody but Zack is willing to look at me. “That bad, huh?”
“It was … interesting.” He looks away, toward an oil painting on the wall that Jennifer made in college. I've always hated it. It's not very good, and Jennifer isn't a very nice person, so I'm more than willing to point out the painting's flaws. She left me at a rest stop, kept my sister from me, and now she's pregnant again. Just what the world doesn't need, another baby for her to mess up. “But I guess it went better than expected. Tristan's still here, isn't he?” Zack narrows his eyes and sighs, reaching up to ruffle his short, dark hair.
Tristan simply sighs and looks out the window, his expression far away and detached. He knew he wasn't coming back to Burberry Prep next year, so he tried to set things up in such a way that I'd be safe. My heart stutters, and I let out a small sigh that draws his attention my way.
His blade-gray gaze catches mine, and I feel suddenly like I'm falling. Reaching out, I curl my arm around Zayd's to stay steady.
“Where would you be if … things didn't go the way you wanted?” I ask Tristan directly, and he sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets. Our eyes meet, and a warm shiver takes over my body.
We almost … I almost made a bad decision, and I didn't care.
My sex education is better than that. It might be a good idea for me to look into birth control though, huh?
“At a military school in eastern Maine,” Tristan says, his voice neutral but threaded with a certain sort of darkness that reflects in his fist as he clenches it tightly by his side. “My father's new mistress was going to graciously pay to ship me across the country. That, of course, was only after she talked him out of disowning his only son completely—that is, he wouldn’t have if I’d met his conditions. I did not.” He bites this last word out like a curse.
“He's that angry with you?” I ask softly as Miranda finally sits up, yawning and rubbing at her face as she mumbles curses under her breath. Pretty sure she's hungover. She drank a lot last night. Fending creepy guys off of her was a full-time job. Men can be so gross sometimes. “Over me?”
Tristan just shrugs loosely.
“Among other things. He's never liked me, not since the moment my mother decided she wanted to have me. Then he bought me off of her like he does everything else in his life.” Tristan smiles, but it's a similar expression to the one he was wearing the first day I met him. There's nothing friendly or happy about it. “I'm ranting, excuse me. Do you have a bathroom I could use?”
I give him the nicest, prettiest smile I can muster.
“No, we're peasants, so all we have is an outhouse.” Pretty sure Creed, Zayd, and Tristan all look at me like they're not a hundred percent sure whether they believe me or not. A small laugh escapes me, and I point down the hall. “First door on the right.”
He moves past me, that distinct scent of his—like cinnamon and peppermint—wafts past and I shiver. Tristan pauses suddenly, turning to me and putting his fingers beneath my jaw. The way he looks at me … there's a puzzle in his eyes that I so desperately wish I could solve.
Without saying a word, Tristan releases me and disappears into the bathroom. A moment later, I hear a door bang outside and glance over to see Lizzie climbing down the bus steps.
“What is she doing here?!” Miranda chokes out, her perfect blond hair all tangled up on top of her head in