hers. I see her waver in how her shoulders relax, her hands going to my chest, resting there lightly.
Just her touching me twists me up inside. I don’t fucking get it.
“You have a funny way of showing your fixation.” Her voice is small, full of irritation. I still don’t have her convinced. “And you have three minutes left.”
Three minutes to make this right. Three minutes to prove that I want more from her. What exactly do I want? I don’t know how to ask. I warned her before that all I do is take. I don’t know any other way. If I had my choice I’d drag her up to my bedroom, lock the door and push her onto the bed. Fall on top of her and never let her go for the rest of the night.
But is that all I want? One night? That’s all I should want. That’s all I can allow myself to want.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and count to three.
His forehead is pressed against mine, his eyes tightly closed, a low exhale falling from his perfect mouth. He’s so close we’re sharing the same air, I can practically count the outrageous number of thick black lashes that rim his eyes and it would take nothing for our mouths to meet. A little shift here, a lift of the chin there and we’d be kissing.
But I can’t let him kiss me. Not when I’m still mad at him. I’m so tense waiting for his next words I feel like I could shatter. Fully prepared for him to say something terrible. Awful.
Like usual.
Slowly he opens his eyes and lifts his forehead from mine, licking his lips, his gaze never leaving me. “I like you,” he says in that sexy low rumble.
Words fail me. What in the world does he mean?
“Have you ever met someone you felt an instant connection to? Like, the minute your eyes met, you couldn’t look away no matter how much you tried? You go to bed at night with them on your mind and when you wake up you wonder how they slept? And throughout the day you hope like hell you catch a glimpse of them but when you don’t, you’re disappointed?”
My throat is so dry it’s hard for me to swallow.
“And when you finally do run into them, you’re so damn excited, you’re dying to talk to them, look at them—touch them. But then you realize…that maybe you want something they can’t give. Or worse, they don’t feel the same way. That maybe you’re overreacting and wanting it all when you never want it all. You’re afraid to want it all.” He pauses, clears his throat and drops his head so he’s not looking at me any longer. “So you shut off those feelings because you don’t want to be rejected. You’d rather move through life completely untouchable.”
My knees are shaking at his sweet yet sad words. Is he really talking about me? He’s afraid he could be rejected? I find it hard to believe that the player of all players Tristan Prescott is saying this.
I run my hands up his chest, curling my fingers around his shoulders, needing him to finish but unable to say a word of encouragement. What if I’m wrong? What if he’s talking about something else entirely? Or maybe he’s saying a bunch of bullshit to get me naked.
I don’t know what to think.
“O-one minute,” I whisper, my voice shaking and my heart in my throat. I’m probably being mean but oh my God, he’s been so incredibly mean to me tonight. I still can’t believe the way he flirted with Toni while blatantly ignoring me. I don’t care how sweet his words are, he acted like an asshole.
Tristan lifts his head, his blue eyes turbulent, like a sudden violent storm. “That’s exactly how I feel about you. You scare the fuck out of me, Alexandria.”
We stare at each other, the house eerily quiet, the only sound the thundering of my heart in my ears. He shifts closer, his questioning gaze dropping, lingering on my lips for the briefest, most intense moment I think I’ve ever experienced. His gaze returns to mine, and my mouth tingles in anticipation. I don’t give him my answer with words. I merely close my eyes, part my lips.
And wait for him.
He’s there in a second, his mouth on mine, his hand curling in my hair, his other hand on my waist, his hot fingers slipping beneath my