Текст книги "Slow Play"

Автор книги: Monica Murphy

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

This man needs to be satisfied and quick. After the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave me—my God the things he can do with his tongue—I want to return the favor. I’m dying to see him, touch him.

He’s thrusting against me nice and slow, his big body pinning me to the bed. I like the feel of his weight pressing me into the mattress. He’s solid, so warm, so incredibly male and big and hard…

Everywhere.

His mouth is also fused to mine, our tongues tangling, his hands wandering. I run my fingers around the top of his jeans, slipping them down the front, his stomach muscles contracting when I brush against them. I unsnap his jeans, tug down the zipper and skim my fingers along his erection, which is straining against his underwear.

Um. Wow. He’s long. Thick. And that’s just my early assessment.

“Roll over,” I murmur against his mouth.

He nips my lower lip. “No.”

“Tristan.” I shove at his shoulder with my other hand, my fingers still curled firmly around his cock. “Please.”

“If you insist.” Just as I let go of him, he rolls over so he’s flat on his back, his arms tucked under his head, elbows out, very casual. Kneeling beside him, my gaze roams, lingering over all the good stuff on display. His biceps bulge with muscle. The wall of his chest, his flat stomach, his jeans undone and spread open, exposing the black underwear beneath, the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric.

Somehow he kicked off his boots earlier and he’s just in his socks. His cheeks are ruddy, his lips damp and swollen from our kisses and his hair is a wreck. He looks good. No, he looks sexy in that deceptively relaxed pose. His body is tense, his gaze full of heat and want as he watches me and waits.

I need to put him out of his misery.

Leaning over him, I kiss his lips once, moving down so I can kiss his jaw, his neck, run my lips over his chest, his pecs, the soft hair in the center tickling my cheeks. I kiss one nipple, the other nipple, his muscles so tight beneath my lips, his body trembling. I know he’s holding back, restraining himself. I love that. He’s nothing but potent, male power, and he’s letting me do whatever I want to him when really he just wants to grab me and get on with it.

I kiss his stomach, my lips soft and seeking, my tongue darting out for the occasional lick. Glancing up at his face, I find him watching me, his eyes blazing, his mouth a grim line as he reaches up and pushes my hair away from my cheek.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says, confusion mangling his expression. I’m sure that’s the first time he’s said that to a girl. I mean really, this is the man-whore king stud on campus. Telling girls they don’t need to give him a BJ if they don’t want to is just…incomprehensible.

“I want to,” I tell him honestly, noting the relief I see in his otherwise dire features. The struggle is real for him right now and I think it’s adorable. “But I’m not going all the way.”

Why, I’m not sure, but it almost feels too intimate, to let him inside me tonight. Fine, I let him mash his face against my vagina and suck me straight into an orgasm. I’m about to put my mouth on his cock. That’s all well and good. It’s—fun. Sexual exploration, relieving all of that tension we’ve been dealing with since the night we met.

But letting him enter me, fusing the two of us together, face to face, heart to heart, is such an incredibly intimate act, I’m scared to do it with him. Scared more that once it happens, he’ll leave.

And I’ll be left behind to pick up the pieces, alone.

“That’s cool. I’m okay with it. We don’t have to,” he says in a rush of words. “I’m not going to pressure you to do anything you don’t want to, Alexandria.”

He says those words and I believe him. Tristan has never broken a promise yet and I appreciate that about him. He’s always been honest—most of the time, to a fault. He says what he feels, what he’s thinking, with absolutely no filter. A lot of the time, it’s annoying.

It’s also endearing.

“I know,” I whisper as I start to tug his jeans down. “Help me out here.”

Grinning, he lifts his hips, pushing his jeans down to his thighs, where I take over and pull them the rest of the way off, letting them fall onto the floor. He’s wearing black boxer briefs that mold to his thighs and everything else, showing off all that he has. I stare at him for a moment, swallowing hard as I consider how I’m going to approach this. He’s big. I’m not what one would call tremendously experienced in the going downtown department. Yes, I’ve given a blowjob. No, I’ve never swallowed. Yes, I enjoyed it—somewhat. Okay, a little bit. The three guys I’ve given blowjobs to, all of them came so fast it was over before I barely started. Which I preferred, you know? No lockjaw for me.

This is why I don’t like it when guys go down on me. I take forever—usually. They can never find anything, you know? The lick and suck in the wrong place or they rub me so hard with their fingers, it freaking hurts. It’s a delicate process down there and every guy I’ve been with in the past didn’t seem to realize it. They just attacked it with little to no finesse.

Tristan seemed to understand that. The best part was when he touched me so lightly I barely felt it. His tongue. The way he seemed to find my clit right away, with no hesitation. I’m tingling between my legs just thinking about what he did to me…

“I know I’m huge,” he drawls, snapping me out of my dreamy state. “But I’ve never rendered a woman dead silent for so long before.”

I shake my head, sending him a look as I move to straddle him. His eyes widen when I climb atop him, rubbing my sex against his stomach, a shuddery groan leaving him as he reaches out to grasp hold of my waist. “I was just thinking about what I wanted to do to you,” I tell him.

His fingers skim my waist, my hips. “What’s your plan?”

“To drive you wild,” I whisper as I stretch up to kiss his lips, my tongue darting out for a teasing lick. He lifts his head, trying to capture my lips again but I move away from him, shaking my head. “To make you come as hard as you made me.”

He smiles, all confident, cocky man. “Hmm, are you up to the challenge?”

“Watch me,” I whisper, remembering when he said that to me what feels like eons ago, in the library. I undulate my hips, rubbing against his stomach and he closes his eyes, his hands sliding down to grab hold of my ass.

I pull out of his touch and scoot down, my hands going to the waistband of his boxer briefs and bringing them with me. His cock springs free, rising up to greet me and I stare at in wonder, blowing out a soft breath. I swear it bobs in answer.

Oh. Man. He is large. Thick and veined, his cock has a flared head and slightly curves toward his stomach. I keep my gaze locked on it as I hurriedly get rid of his underwear, then reach out to wrap my fingers around the base.

“Shit,” he mutters, closing his eyes so tight it looks almost painful. “You keep touching me like that I’m going to explode.”

“Why?” I ask incredulously. “I barely touched you.”

“I haven’t been with anyone else since I met you,” he admits, his eyes cracking open. “And I’ve been dreaming of this moment for so damn long, just hearing you talk, your fingers around my fucking dick is well, you know. Pushing me over the edge.” The smile he gives me is pained.

I want to put him out of his misery.

Giving him a squeeze, I dip my head, drop a kiss to the very tip of his cock. The strangled groan that sounds low in his throat encourages me and I part my lips, taking the head of his cock into my mouth. Tristan hisses when I pull him out, trace my tongue around the tip, teasing and licking, my gaze never leaving his.

He doesn’t look away from me either. His eyes are so hot, I feel emboldened by his reaction. I love that he’s enjoying this so much and I feel like I’ve barely started. His arousal is turning me on and I’ve never experienced that before in my life. Never with any other guy.

Only with him.

Only with Tristan.

I’m going to lose it. Just come all over her pretty face and she’ll get pissed and probably leave. Well, I brought her here so she’ll have to find a ride home but Jade would help her. Shep would help her. They’d all think I was a total asshole and that would suck but…

Totally overreacting over here. I need to calm the fuck down.

She runs her tongue down the length of my cock, mapping every throbbing vein, her fingers firmly clasping the base. I stare in wonder at the most beautiful girl in the world, the woman of my recent fantasies, the one who I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I tried, give me the ultimate blowjob.

I spread my legs wider as she settles in, a little smile teasing the corner of her lips before she begins licking my cock again. A ragged exhalation leaves me and I reach out, pushing her hair away from her face so I can see this better.

And I really want to see this.

Her fingers stroke as her tongue licks, and she takes me deeper, the wet heat of her mouth making me close my eyes and fight against the urge to come. It would be so easy to let go. She’s been doing this for all of what? Three minutes? And I’m ready to blow. I blame it on the excitement that she’s the one blowing me. I blame it on the fact that I haven’t been with a woman in weeks. I blame it on the fact that I’ve become well-acquainted with my hand lately and the touch of Alexandria’s tongue and lips is just fucking too good not to give into.

But really, it’s all about the girl. That she’s willing to do this for me, that she’s actually enjoying it, is upping my arousal factor. It’s an incredible turn on, to watch a woman suck your cock and have zero expectations in return. She’s doing this because she wants to.

Not because she wants something from me.

She hums around the head of my cock, causing a vibration that I feel all the way to my knees. I lift my hips, trying to send my dick a little deeper, not wanting to be obvious about it and she pulls away from me completely, her fingers still wrapped tight around the base. Her lips are damp, glossy in the low light. Her hair is a mess, a golden cloud around her head. And the best part, she’s naked. All naked and flushed, her tits on display, those long legs folded beneath her, she’s gorgeous. Looking a little flustered, a lot adorable.

“I don’t know if can take you all the way in my mouth,” she confesses, her face full of disappointment. “It’s just that…you’re so big.”

Every guy in the whole damn world wants to hear this. Yeah, yeah we want to be deep throated too but if your girl can’t do it because you’re well hung? Who’s going to complain about that?

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” I hesitate when she frowns. “Or…don’t. It all feels good. Trust me.”

“Really?” She squeezes my dick, her fingers firm and I press my lips together to keep from shouting harder! at her.

“Fuck yeah. Don’t be shy.” I touch her cheek, cradle the side of her face in my palm. She leans into my touch and I push my fingers into her silky soft hair, loving the way the strands cling. “Anything you do, I’m going to like, angel. Trust me.”

Her cheeks go pink as she smiles. And then without hesitation, she goes at it in earnest, enveloping me in her mouth, her head bobbing up and down, her strokes matching the same rhythm as her seeking lips. I try to last as long as possible. Push her hair away so I can watch. Thrust my hips up and enjoying the view of my cock sinking deeper into her mouth. It’s visual overload, sensory overload, fucking Alexandria overload and there’s nothing I can do to withstand it any longer.

I lose all control.

Her name falls from my lips in a shaky whisper as I arch my back, the tingly sensation starting at the base of my spine, flowing into my balls. It’s close. I’m close. I need to warn her. I need to tell her so she can pull away or whatever but then I feel it. That first spurt shoots out of me and fucking forget it. I’m done. I’m coming in her mouth, coming on her tongue and she never pulls away, not once.

She swallows it like a champ. My champ. Damn, this girl is good.

I shake uncontrollably and sound like I’m dying, groaning and carrying on. She doesn’t let up until I’m finished, giving me one last swipe of her tongue before she withdraws, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. I’m lying there in a boneless heap, helpless to move, to think, to say anything and she smiles at me. A sexy curve of lips, her eyes bright, her cheeks pink as she pushes her hair away from her face.

“I think you liked that,” she says quietly and I know. I just fucking know.

I’m doomed.

Monday morning dawns, the air crisp and cold, the sky blue and not a dark cloud in sight. I wake up at six-thirty, practically bounce out of bed and take a long, hot shower, remind Shep when I’m done that we need to get going. He’s still in bed with Jade, the lazy ass.

But I forgive him. He’s got a nice warm woman snuggled up close to him. Why would he want to leave?

I wait patiently for him down in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and pacing back and forth. I’m starving but I want to save my appetite for the diner. Whatever’s the biggest breakfast plate on their menu, I’ll take it. I need to fortify for later today when I see Alexandria.

Saturday she worked. Saturday night I worked the gambling house while she finished a paper that’s due, though we texted each other throughout the night. Sunday we met for brunch. I’ve never brunched with a girl before. It was nice. I sat across from her at the table in the restaurant surrounded by tons of people talking and carrying on. While all I could do was stare at her lips, remembering how I had my dick between them a few nights ago.

Yes, I’m a fucking pervert. I can’t help it.

We didn’t do anything Sunday night. Nothing sexual, at least. We hung out in her room and she forced me to watch Friends—I don’t mind Friends, I can admit I grew up on that shit. Somewhat. I sort of paid attention.

Okay, fine not really.

I tried to make a bold move when I kissed her, but she told me she wanted to take this slow. There was nothing coy, nothing bogus about her suggestion. She told me she liked me, she thought we had a connection and she wanted to ease into whatever it is we’re doing. I want to honor her request. It’s either that or she bails. And I’m not ready for her to bail.

I like her too damn much to let myself ruin whatever we have between us.

“Why the hell are you so cheerful?” Shep asks as he shuffles into the kitchen, looking like the world’s biggest grump. He’s dressed but it’s half-assed at best, like he just rolled out of bed and threw his clothes on. Plus, he’s a little bleary-eyed and not one hundred percent awake. “It’s Monday for Christ’s sake.”

“I had a good weekend.” I shrug.

“Meaning you got some?” He pours himself a cup of coffee, dumps a ton of sugar and creamer in before he sticks a spoon in it and stirs. “Fucking finally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I scratch the back of my head, pausing in my pacing. Was it that obvious that Alexandria and I weren’t doing the nasty?

“You’ve been chasing after this girl for weeks. It’s nice to see you act so…cheerful.” He takes a drink of his coffee and makes a face. “You’re never cheerful.”

“I’m always cheerful,” I counter.

“No, you’re really not. Once we started seeing our girls on a regular basis, you became even worse.” Shep sets his cup on the counter. “But now that you’ve joined the club, it’s all good.”

I frown. “What club?”

“The relationship club,” he stresses, a cheesy grin on his face. “Face facts, bro. You’ve fallen. You’re in a relationship with Alex.”

“I am not,” I immediately say, wondering why the hell I just did that. What Alexandria and I are doing though, I wouldn’t classify as a relationship.

Yet.

But really, what the hell are we doing? Because I’m not sure, and I don’t think Alexandria knows either so maybe we’re both fucked?

“Really? So you fucked her because of our bet,” Shep suggests. “Nice one.”

I nearly flinch at the word fuck. He makes it sound so…crude. This is coming from the guy who used to ask girls if they were down to fuck.

And he would have to bring up that stupid bet.

“Listen, you won the bet,” I say firmly. “I owe you.”

“I won? Are you serious?” Shep sounds skeptical.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t…” I was about to say we didn’t have sex yet, which is true. But I can’t tell him that. That means Shep will tell Gabe and they’ll both cackle and gossip over us like little old women. No thanks. “I’m not with her because of a lame ass bet we made on a whim.”

Shep’s smiling. “That’s nice to know.”

“So don’t ever bring it up again,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “I won’t.” His grin never budges from his face.

“And stop smiling at me like a freak,” I mutter, waving a hand at him. “It’s disturbing.”

“You should feel disturbed. I’m disturbed too. I seriously, seriously never thought I’d see the day that this would happen. I figured you’d be pervy Uncle Tristan for the rest of your life to my six children.”

“Six?” And I’m his cousin, not his brother. I wouldn’t be his kids’ uncle.

“I bet I could get Jade on board.”

“You’re insane.” That he’s contemplating having children with Jade—six of them—I guess it shouldn’t surprise me, but damn. I can’t imagine.

“Whatever. I didn’t see you with children. Hell, I didn’t even see you married. I figured you’d be a forever bachelor, go into retirement, chase after all the divorcees and widows until we finally put you up in the old folks’ home, only for you to get kicked out because you wouldn’t stop pinching the nurses’ asses.”

“You’ve got it all planned out don’t you?”

“Jade and I have talked about it more than once.” Shep shrugs, like that’s normal, to plan the rest of my life.

Weird.

I chuckle. “You never know. It could still happen. The pinching asses part, at least.”

“No doubt.” Shep’s smile fades and he gets that serious face going on. The one that tells me he’s about to venture into sappy territory. “This is nice to see though—you with a girl. A nice girl who isn’t like the usual ones you uh, spend time with.”

“What sort of girls are you referring to Shepard?” I ask innocently. I want to hear his answer because not too long ago, he was hanging with those same types of girls too.

“You know the type. Always eager to please.” He takes a big chug of coffee then sets his cup in the sink. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nice way to change the subject. I get why he’s doing it. Closely examining me and my habits when it comes to women means Shep has to examine his past behaviors as well. I’m not perfect, I’ve never claimed to be. Neither has Shep. But he’s turned his life around these last six months with Jade. He’s a different man. But his past still lingers, as does Gabe’s—and they have to face it every day when they look at me.

They’ve never liked that. I know. It always felt personal, like maybe they didn’t like me much anymore either. And that hurt, not that I’d ever admit it. I’d much rather pretend I was my normal, asshole self. I wanted to piss them off more so I’d at least get a reaction.

Infantile? Yeah. But I couldn’t help it.

Then I go and find a girl. A girl I actually like. A girl I want to spend more time with. That’s all I can commit to for now. I can’t say I want a girlfriend. I definitely can’t say I’m in love with her. But I can say that I like Alexandria. I like her a lot.

And for once, admitting that to myself doesn’t scare me.

“You ready to go?” Shep asks, knocking me from my thoughts.

“Yeah.” I drain my cup and set it into the sink as well, offering Shep a smile. “I’m fucking starving.”

“Regular sex with someone you like does that to a person,” Shep says smugly as we walk out into the garage.

I don’t answer, just open the passenger side door of Shep’s car and climb inside. We ride together every Monday. This week it’s his turn to drive.

My phone dings and I check it, smiling when I see who the message is from.

What are you doing this afternoon?

I answer her quickly, ignoring the kissy noises Shep’s making as he fires up his car and backs out of the garage.

Spending it with you.

Her reply is just as fast.

☺ Awesome. So you’ll go on a run with me?

I frown. My girl runs? Since when?

You run?

I do. Well, I haven’t for a while but I think I need to get back into the habit. All this pizza I’m eating with my roommates is ruining my figure.

Please. She’s so thin I wonder where she puts it all.

You are perfect just the way you are.

You’re such a flatterer.

I’m not trying to flatter her. It’s the truth. She sends me another text before I can reply.

Text me when you’re done okay?

“Texting first thing in the morning. You two are so cute,” Shep says in a mock falsetto.

I’d hit him if he weren’t driving. “Fuck off,” I mutter as I send her one last text.

I’ll talk to you later. Have a good morning.

You too. xoxo

“What does it mean when a girl texts you a bunch of x’s and o’s?” I ask, frowning at my screen.

“Are you for real right now?” When I send Shep a helpless look he shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “It means hugs and kisses, dumbass. Jesus, where have you been? Living under a rock?”

His mocking words slide right off me. No one has ever sent me hugs and kisses in the form of x’s and o’s in my life. That probably makes me pitiful but I don’t care. In fact, I’m damn glad Alex is the first to ever do it.

So glad, I smile all the way to the diner.

Running with Tristan this afternoon was a huge mistake. Not only did he leave me in the dust more than once, he also made it look so easy. I’m huffing and puffing, trying my best to keep up while he’s running beside me, barely breaking a sweat and looking damn good while doing it. All the while he’s chatting me up without taking a breath.

I mean seriously, who is this guy?

Your potential boyfriend?

I shove the giddy-inducing thought to the back corner of my mind.

“I thought you said you were a runner,” he taunts as we’re in the home stretch. Otherwise known as a few blocks from my house. He’s turned around so he’s running backward, not paying attention to what he could possibly run into and I want to punch him for making it look so easy.

I also want to squeal with joy and tell everyone that guy’s mine. But that might freak him out so I keep my mouth shut.

“I warned you it’s been a while,” I huff out. I’ve pretty much given up, keeping up as best as I can while walking since I’ve given up on the running part as he runs ahead of me. Backward-runs, that is. He grins, too cute for words, the sun shining down upon him, casting him in this golden glow that makes him look downright…angelic.

Funny, considering he calls me angel on occasion, thanks to that costume I wore when I first met him.

He’s wearing a red T-shirt that clings to his chest in all the right places and black track pants, the type that button up the sides. Wonder what he would do if I went up to him and tried to rip his pants off…

“You should go to the gym with me,” he offers nonchalantly, interrupting my dirty thoughts.

“Really?” I try my best to remain nonchalant and not read too much into what he says. Of course, I could be insulted and think he’s making a veiled reference that I need to work out. I’m so thin—built just like my mom, who has the same willowy figure, so I know that’s not true. But I am fairly weak. “Am I not muscular enough for you, Prescott?”

“Not even close…” His voice drifts and he frowns. “I don’t even know your last name. How fucking lame is that?”

I glance around to make sure no children are in the vicinity before I yell out, “It’s Asher.”

“Alexandria Asher? AA? Don’t tell me your middle name is Ann.” His laughter is infectious and I can’t help but respond. “If I call you Triple A, will you fulfill my every need?”

“You wish,” I toss back, grinning madly, my heart light, though it has no business getting involved in this…whatever we’re doing.

We’re playing a game, Tristan and I, though I’m not sure if he’s aware of it. I’m trying my best to throw up as many roadblocks as possible to take this slow while he’s acting like we’re already a couple. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it.

Truly, we’re both just a couple of idiots, dancing around this—thing that we’ve become. And it’s silly. But I’m not budging from my current position. I don’t think he’s going to either.

So we’ll continue to dance around each other until someone makes the next real move.

“Seriously, though. If you want to come with me to the gym I don’t mind. You could use the treadmill or whatever other machines interest you.”

“You don’t use the treadmill?” Of course not. He runs like this naturally. Ugh.

“I prefer lifting,” he says with a shrug. “Used to do it a lot in my high school football days.”

“You played football?” I squeak.

He gives me a weird look. “Yeah.”

“I was a cheerleader!” I bound toward him, my feet light as I run. “I was even my class’s homecoming queen my senior year.”

“Get the fuck out.” He stops in his tracks. “I was my senior class’s homecoming king.”

“You were not.” I stop just in front of him, resting my hands on my hips as I try and catch my breath.

“I was. On the prom court too, three years in a row, though I never won.” He makes a face. “Not that I really wanted to. That was such a bogus popularity contest.”

“Meaning you were super popular,” I add. All I ever wanted to do was win. It meant I was popular and people liked me. That’s what I thought, at least. Once my family had their fall from grace, I realized no one really liked me at all. I had no friends stick by me in the aftermath.

None.

“Well, you had to have been too.” His gaze runs down the length of me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “I’d like to see you in your cheer skirt sometime.”

My skin heats from his stare. “It was really short.”

“I’m sure,” he drawls, his voice like warm honey oozing over my nerve endings, making me…

Horny.

Yes, God, I keep putting him off the sex thing, but why? Our most recent confessions prove we were almost made for each other. We would’ve been that disgustingly perfect couple in high school land. Though if we’d meet in high school, it probably wouldn’t have worked. I would’ve been too emotional—I was a wreck back then, always giving my boyfriends grief, like some sort of insecure minor stalker—and he would’ve undoubtedly cheated on me.

Not that Tristan’s a cheater but…yeah. That’s what hot football jocks did back in the day, at least in my school. My boyfriend, who was my homecoming king and escort, cheated on me the night of the homecoming dance by getting a hand job from the rival high school’s head cheerleader after the dance was over. He dropped me off, snuck over to her house, and messed around with her.

Talk about a cliché. I dumped his ass. He was snatched up by one of my friends on my cheer team within a week.

I hung around a lot of catty girls back in the day.

“I bet you were sexy in your jersey,” I throw back at him. “And amazing to see playing out on the field.”

“I wasn’t that great.” His smile dies a little. It’s not as bright, not brimming as much with fond memories. “I played to hang out with my friends and get girls.”

I laugh. “At least you’re honest.”

“Yeah, you can never call me a liar,” he says. “I always give it to everyone straight.”

I say nothing. I feel like I’m not giving it to him straight, keeping little pieces of myself hidden from him, from everyone. That’s not fair to anyone, especially Tristan—Kelli and Jade and Lucy, Steven and my roommates, even Shep and Gabe. I’m hiding my past, my family’s problems, my parents and what they did because I’m ashamed of them.

If I told Tristan, would he understand? Or would he think less of me? I don’t know.

I’m not sure if I ever want to find out.

“Well, pick up your pace, Asher. Meet you on the front porch,” Tristan calls, envy rippling through me when he turns and starts to run toward my house. I let my gaze linger, a sigh full of longing leaving me.

Effortless, perfect jerk—though that’s not really fair. He hasn’t been a jerk to me in days. No, he’s been sweet, on his absolute best behavior. After our night of naked times, we’ve been playing it cool. He took me to brunch Sunday and stared at me so hungrily throughout the entire meal I could hardly focus. That had been sort of uncomfortable.

And hot. I can’t deny it.

We’ve texted a lot. Hung out a bit. Kissed numerous times. Long, tongue filled kisses that seem to drug my brain and turn me into a pile of mush. It’s been…nice. It’s felt real. Fun and light, nothing too serious. In the past, I was always so quick to rush headlong into a full-blown relationship. Expecting so much more than the guy I was with ever wanted to give.

Yeah, we’re dancing around it but we’re not in a full-fledged relationship, and I’m okay with that.

Really.

I finally make it to the front porch to find Tristan sitting on the steps, chugging from a bottle of water and looking sexy as sin. I collapse on the step beside him, resting my head against his shoulder as I try to catch my breath. He doesn’t push me away, doesn’t say anything rude or discouraging. Merely drops a kiss on top of my head when he’s finished drinking and waves a new bottle of water in front of my face with a flourish.

The sweet gestures melt me. Something he’s really good at doing lately.

I grab the water from him and crack the top off, taking a long drink before I twist the cap back on and set the bottle beside me. “I’m out of shape.”

“You look in pretty good shape to me.” He nudges me with his shoulder and I really do almost go toppling over. He’s as solid as a mountain, this man.

“Not really. I’m thin but I come by it naturally. When I was in my early teens, they all thought I was anorexic.” I frown. I’d forgotten all about that, though I don’t know how. I hated when my mom took me to the doctor, stressing again and again that I must have some sort of problem.

Which is ironic really, since she’s the one who gave me the problem. She always told me I needed to watch my weight, watch what types of food I ate, was always tugging at my clothes and implying that I somehow looked fat. She’s the one who could’ve made me anorexic in an instant. I’m surprised she didn’t.