In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #4) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,87
pissing me off the most.”
“I …” I start, thinking of Isabella's words, those awful, nagging things trying to worm their way under my skin. “We walked in and found him fucking your friend. Doesn't that bother you?” I'm not going to fall for that shit though. I'm not even going to bring it up unless Tristan does first. He wouldn't cheat on me with Lizzie. If he were going to choose, he'd just say something … Like maybe he's about to say something right now? “I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about.”
Tristan closes his eyes, but he's still panting, fingers curled around the edges of the shelves behind me. I reach up and put a hand over his chest, closing my own eyes and feeling the frantic beating of his heart.
A small squeak escapes me when Tristan's hand whips down and grabs my wrist, almost too tight.
Our eyes both open and I find myself getting lost in the brilliance of his blade-gray gaze. It's a double-edged sword, that's for sure. He can defend me with it … but he can also cut me if he wants, make me bleed. And boy, would I bleed for this man.
“What do you think about me and Lizzie?” Tristan asks carefully, his voice like velvet, his smell like cinnamon. His warmth transcends the distance between us, making me shiver.
“What do …” I start, thinking about the way he used to look at her, like she was his long-lost love who'd galloped away on a different knight's horse. But … that was the way he used to look at her, right? I try to think of the last time I saw his gaze soften in her direction. It’s been awhile, that’s for sure. “What do you mean?”
“Do you want me to get with her? Do you ship me and Lizzie for some reason? Because I swear to God, it feels like you do sometimes.” He stares at me so hard that I feel like all my inhibitions are being shed like a banana peel, stripping right down and leaving my pale yellow flesh quivering. Whoa. That was a totally weird metaphor. Scratch that. Pretend I never said anything at all.
“Why would you think that?” I whisper as Tristan breathes in and out, big, harsh, angry breaths. He presses in even closer to me, and I feel myself coming apart at the seams.
“Look, I hate Zack as much as the next asshole, but what you said to him, about how you wanted him to fight for you … do you ever take your own advice, Marnye?”
“I …” My throat feels too tight to talk, like it's impossible to breathe in without sharing a breath with Tristan, without getting two lungfuls of his beautiful scent. He's enticing, a little dangerous, exactly the sort of man I should stay away from. And at the same time … when I think about going to the same college as him, studying together, building a new life together … I get the chills in the best possible way. “We could really have something, me and you.”
Tristan growls at me. I kid you not. He seriously growls under his breath and clenches his teeth.
“Right. So why are you so pro-Lizzie?” he demands, and I blink back in confusion. “And why do you smell so damn good?” he adds, almost under his breath, glancing to the side for a moment before looking back at me.
“I'm not pro-Lizzie,” I tell him, and there it is. All these feelings come rushing to the surface, and I can't seem to hold them back. “I've … I wanted to be friends with her. And I felt selfish. She loves you so much, and I'm dating five guys, and …”
“So fucking what?” Tristan slams his palm against the bookshelf, still clinging to my wrist with his other hand. “You're dating five guys because we all refuse to let you go. What does that have to do with Lizzie? You want to trade me like a baseball card, so she doesn't feel left out?”
My jaw drops open and Tristan takes that moment to sweep in and kiss me. Hard. His lush mouth against my parted lips. His tongue dives in, taking complete control, encouraging me to tilt my head back and give into him. He's the cruelest boy I know. He really is. He'll never be perfect. He'll never even be good. But maybe … he's just right for me?