Iam fuming. Absolutely fuming. I cannot believe Tristan flew to freaking Vancouver to talk to me, changed his mind, and ended up on the same damn flight home. Having my heart tossed into a meat grinder once is bad enough, but to have him do it all over again less than a week later is more than I can handle. For a second I was excited to see him. Until he went and opened his word hole.
I fucking hate him. HATE him. Selfish, arrogant fuckboy.
As soon as we land, I disappear into the first available bathroom and unleash a nightmare made of refried beans and heartbreak. I spend a good forty-five minutes in there. Ten of them actually using the bathroom, another ten waiting out whoever is in the bathroom with me out of sheer embarrassment, and then another twenty-five after Tristan texts me to tell me he’s at baggage claim. Maybe as a warning? Who the fuck knows?
I send him a series of middle fingers:
RIX
╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮
╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮
╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮
╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮
╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮
╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮
╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮
╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮╭∩╮(-_-)╭∩╮
Eventually, he messages back with a thumbs-up.
The tears start again. It takes twenty minutes to calm down enough to leave the bathroom.
Normally I would take the train home. It’s infinitely cheaper than an Uber or a cab, but my emotional state is unstable, so I opt to spend the extra money. Crying in front of one person is preferable to crying in front of potential hundreds.
I have messages from Essie asking if I made it home okay. And my brother has called twice but hasn’t left a voicemail. I wonder if Tristan is home already. Probably. His place is a short trip from the airport.
I call Essie once I’m in the back of a cab—they can’t give me a bad rating for being emotional. “You won’t believe who was on the plane.”
“Ryan Reynolds?”
“I wish. I bet he’s just as funny in real life as he is in movies,” I say.
“Do you really want me to guess, or should this be a rhetorical question?”
“We can go with rhetorical. Tristan was on the plane.”
“What? Why? Didn’t he have a game in Toronto yesterday?”
“Yeah. Apparently, he flew out to Vancouver to talk to me, but changed his mind when he got there and ended up on the same flight home as me.”
“What? But why?”
“I don’t know. It was so humiliating. I had a bathroom emergency on the plane and snuck up to use the one in first class since there usually isn’t a line and no one pees on the seat. Also, that dinner we had last night was so stupid. Why do I always eat the refried freaking beans?”
“Because they’re delicious and impossible to resist.”
“It’s so annoyingly true.” I glance at the cab driver, who is dutifully ignoring me. “Anyway, I came out of the bathroom and guess who was sitting in first class wearing the same suit from the game last night.”
“Oh my God.”
“Right? He was shoving candy into his face. And when I confronted him, he said he flew out to talk to me, but changed his mind. Like breaking my heart once wasn’t bad enough. He had to go and do it again in front of a bunch of people. I made a scene on a freaking plane. Today is the worst.” Tears leak out. I don’t stop them. It’s pointless. They’ll fall regardless.
“Oh, muffin. I’m so sorry. What happened when you got off the plane?”
“I had to use the bathroom for obvious stress-induced and refried bean reasons. He messaged to say he was at the baggage carousel. I don’t know if it was a warning or what. I sent an excessive number of middle finger emojis, and he sent a thumbs-up, and then I cried for twenty minutes, and now I’m in a cab on the way to my apartment.”
“I feel like there are pieces missing to this story,” Essie muses.
My phone beeps with an incoming call. I check to see who it is. “Crap, that’s my brother. It’s the third time he’s called in the past ten minutes, and he hasn’t left a message.”
“Okay. Call me when you can with an update. I love you.”
“I love you back. Wish I was still in Vancouver. I’ll call you later.” I end the call with Essie and take the one from Flip. “Hey.”
“Hey. How was Vancouver?”
“Great until the flight home.”
“What happened on the flight home?”
“Tristan.”
He’s quiet for a second. “Can you explain that?”
“Evidently he came to Vancouver to talk to me, then decided he didn’t want to talk to me anymore, and we ended up on the same flight home.”
He blows out a breath. “That pussy-ass fucker.”
“It was humiliating.” Especially the part where I said he would pay for everyone’s drinks and the guy beside him reminded me they’re free in first class. And then I tried not to cry for the rest of the flight home. I was unsuccessful.
“What were his exact words? Did he say he didn’t want to talk anymore?” Flip asks.
“He said he changed his mind. Can we not do this right now? I’d prefer not to relive this experience more times than necessary,” I snap.
“For fuck’s sake. You two are hopeless.”
“Thanks for being a supportive brother.” I hang up and turn my phone to silent.
It’s nearly dinnertime when I roll in the door to my apartment. I leave my bag in my room and hop in the shower to rinse off the smell of plane. When I come out of my bedroom, Hammer, Hemi, and Tally are in the living room.
“Yay! You’re back! How was Vancouver?” Hammer bounces across the room and hugs me.
I hug her back. “Vancouver was great.”
She steps back. “It sounds like there’s a but in there?”
“There is, and his name is Tristan. However, I do not feel like crying anymore over that asshole, so can we not talk about him and go get something to eat? All I’ve had today is a mini container of plain Pringles and a Kit Kat. Also, please, for the love of all that is holy, do not allow me to order anything that includes refried beans.”
Hammer and Hemi exchange a look. “Okay. Let’s grab dinner.”
“But no refried beans,” Tally adds.
Hemi invites Shilpa to join us since she knows Ashish is with Hollis and Roman. She meets us in the lobby, and we file out of the apartment and over to the restaurant across the street.
“So Essie was good?” Hammer asks once we’re seated in a booth.
“She was great. I needed the break from life. How was everything here this weekend? Tell me what I missed.”
“I made Dallas go to a horse farm to witness the birth of a foal for a promo op,” Hemi says. “The family has a son with a serious medical condition who idolizes him. It was a great opportunity.”
“The legal hoops were absolutely worth it,” Shilpa adds.
“Oh my God, that’s terrible and awesome at the same time.”
“I know. He passed out. It was glorious.”
“The paperwork would have been a nightmare if you hadn’t caught him going down,” Shilpa says.
“I’m so glad they caught that part on camera.” Hemi smiles evilly for a second before her smile softens. “But there’s a brand-new foal in the world named Dallas Bright, and a very happy boy, so I feel like the embarrassment of fainting on live video is worth it. Dallas doesn’t totally agree with me, but I’m okay with that.”
“You really can’t stand him, can you?” I muse.
“Nope. Not at all. It’s my life’s mission to make his as miserable as possible, one embarrassing promo op at a time.”
We order a pile of appetizers—no tacos or refried beans—and dig in. While I was gone, Tally let the bad kisser down without having to tell him he’s a bad kisser, and Hammer has decided to go into sports-team PR because she loves her internship. Shilpa is considering letting Ashish knock her up. It’s been a weekend.
Flip shows up while we’re paying the bill. I’m not in the mood for any kind of I-told-you-so conversation. “If you’re here to rub this in my face and tell me I’m an idiot for dating Tristan, you can save your breath.”
He purses his lips and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “That’s not why I’m here. Can we talk? Just us?”
“Not if you’re going to make me feel shittier than I already do.”
“That’s not my plan.”
I sigh. “Fine.” I shrug into my jacket, hug the girls, and follow Flip into the cold Canadian evening.
We make it half a block before we duck into a coffee shop. I get the most expensive decaf latte on the menu, and he gets a black coffee. “I need to apologize,” he begins.
“For?” I take a seat across from him and wrap my cold hands around my hot coffee cup.
“A lot of things. I was an asshole about you and Tristan.”
“You were, but it’s over now.” I focus on my coffee because saying that makes my heart hurt. “And you were right anyway. He’s a fuckboy, and I should have known better than to fall for him.”
Flip sighs. “He’s not great at relationships, but he’s not really a fuckboy. Or he wasn’t until I moved in with him. I should’ve curbed my extracurriculars while you were living with us. Especially after finding out you could hear every detail. And I shouldn’t have brought home Tiff and Trinity after I found out about you and Tristan. It wasn’t the right way to handle things.”
“It was a particularly shitty thing to do, but so was sleeping with Tristan behind your back,” I admit. “I honestly didn’t think it would go on for as long as it did, or that I would develop real feelings for him. The longer we were in it, the harder it was to be honest about it, especially knowing what I know about how things went down with you two and your fuck friends.”
A pair of teenagers glance our way. Flip is wearing a baseball cap and a hoodie, nothing team related, so he mostly blends in. “I was hurt more than anything,” he says. “And maybe pissed at myself for not seeing what was right in front of me. But I could have dealt with it a lot better than I did. Tristan is a good guy, but he’s got a lot of baggage, Rix. A lot. What happened with his mom really screwed him up. When he said he changed his mind about talking to you, I don’t think it’s because he didn’t want to. I think it’s because he’s scared that you’re going to tell him to go fuck himself. So maybe give him a chance to explain. He’s bad at feelings, and he has a lot of them when it comes to you.”
“I don’t get why he would fly all that way just to turn around and fly right back home.”
“Neither do I, to be honest. But he’s miserable without you and scared to admit it. Before you write him off, at least let him explain his actions.”
“Who says he’s even going to try?”
“He’s waiting for you at your apartment.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“Because I dropped him off before I came to see you. Hollis let him in the building.” He stands and looks at me expectantly. When I don’t make a move to follow his lead, he sighs. “I need both of you to stop being miserable, and the only way to do that is by talking. So please go home and deal with him.”
I exhale an anxiety filled breath. “Okay. I really hope you’re right about this, because I honestly can’t handle any more heartbreak.”
“I’m right. I’ve known him for a long-ass time. He doesn’t show his feelings much, but the ones he has for you are excessive and plentiful.”
I follow Flip out into the cool evening, and he walks me back to my building. “Give him shit and make him own his,” he says when we arrive.
“Okay.”
“I love you, Rix.”
“I love you, too, Flip.”
I push through the doors and hit the button for the elevator. My palms start sweating on the ride up to my floor.
Sure enough, Tristan is sitting in the hall outside my apartment.
He picks up an enormous bouquet of peonies and a cake from Just Desserts and scrambles to his feet. “Bea, can we talk, please?”
I approach him slowly. I will not be swayed by cake and flowers. Not this time. He looks rough, but also delicious. He’s changed into a T-shirt that hugs his thick biceps, a pair of jeans, and some flashy running shoes. Guy loves his freaking running shoes. His coat is lying in a heap on the floor. He’s sporting two days of stubble and dark circles under his eyes that match mine. These are things I didn’t notice on the plane.
He steps aside while I use the keycard to unlock the door. Thank goodness this place doesn’t have old-school locks. My hands are way too shaky to deal with getting the key in the hole. I usher him inside and put the island between us.
Hammer comes out of her bedroom with a bag slung over her shoulder. “I’m going to visit my dad. For the night.”
“I’m not kicking you out of the apartment,” I say, my eyes bouncing between her and Tristan.
“I know. I’m offering. He’s been bugging me to have a movie night anyway.” She gives me a brief hug. “Just hear him out.”
“Hey, Hammer.” Tristan sets his armload of grovel gifts on the counter and waves.
“Hi, Tristan. The cake and flowers are a nice touch, but please communicate your feelings to each other so you can both stop being sad.” She slides her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers and leaves us.
I cross my arms. “I’m listening.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “I miss you, Bea. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. All I think about is you. I can’t even look at a cucumber anymore without feeling like my chest is caving in. I fucking hate this.”
My heart squeezes. These are all things I want to hear, but it’s not an explanation. “I hate it, too, but it doesn’t clarify why you were on a flight back to Toronto. Why come to Vancouver to talk to me and then change your mind?”
He starts pacing. “I chickened out. I’m a fucking pussy. I admit that. Last night, the guys sat me down and told me as much. And then I flew to Vancouver to tell you I want to be with you, but when I got there I just…couldn’t do it. Because I’m a chickenshit. So I got back on the plane, and then you were on it, and I didn’t expect to see you, and I started eating those horrible Fuzzy Peaches that make my mouth peel, and you were so beautiful, and real, and right fucking there, and I wanted to touch you and talk to you, but we were trapped in first class, and I just…choked. There were all those people watching. I know I fucked it up. But even if I hadn’t lost my nerve, I would have been too late because you were already on a plane back here, so my plan would have been shot to shit anyway.”
“Why did you lose your nerve?”
His eyes are wild, and he swallows compulsively.
“Because…because the way I feel about you terrifies the fuck out of me.” He runs a rough hand through his hair. “And I’m afraid that you’ll realize I don’t deserve you, or that I’ll get traded at the end of the year, and you’ll decide you don’t want to do this with me anymore.”
“So you broke up with me because you’re afraid of your feelings and what the future might look like?” I ask.
He looks so forlorn and lost. “It was a stupid thing to do, Bea. I know that. I know I screwed things up. But I couldn’t get out of my own fucking way. I could barely handle it when you moved out. I was miserable then, and all these feelings I have about you, for you, they just keep getting bigger. And what if you leave me again? Or I have to move, and you don’t want to come with me? Or you decide Vancouver is a better place for you? I thought if I ended things now it wouldn’t hurt as much, but I was wrong, Bea. So fucking wrong. Everything sucks without you.”
I cross my arms. “You don’t get to keep doing this to me. You can’t lash out every time things get hard, or you get scared. Shutting down when there’s a tough conversation isn’t something I’ll accept from you.”
His nostrils flare, and his knee bounces with his anxiety. “I know, and I’m sorry. I was overwhelmed and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, Tristan. You ripped my heart out last week and tossed it in a meat grinder. You treated me like one of your bunny hookups and made me feel like a giant piece of shit. I was fucking devastated. Devastated. You discarded me like trash. Like I meant nothing to you. Is that what you intended? Is that how you wanted me to feel?”
His eyes are haunted, and I swear for a moment he looks like a lost little boy.
“If you want to fix what you broke, you need to decide what you want and do something about it. I can’t be the only vulnerable one here. You can’t take and not give.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m sorry.” He rubs his bottom lip. “I think I’m pretty fucked up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember how I told you I came home when my mom was leaving?” he says softly.
I nod. “You had to tell your brothers and your dad when they got home.” That alone would do enough damage to warrant years of therapy, which I’m not sure he’s ever had.
He nods. Swallows a few times. “I, uh…I asked her not to go.” He drops his head. “Begged her not to leave, even though a lot of the time all she did was get angry at us.” He exhales an unsteady breath. “But I didn’t want her to go. I told her I’d do better, that I’d do anything if she would just stay.” He kneads the back of his neck.
His gaze lifts, and my heart breaks for the boy who was crushed that day, because he’s still very much inside the man before me. He opens his mouth once, twice. Grinds his teeth together and releases a huge exhale before he continues.
“She said it didn’t matter what I said or did. It would never be enough. She didn’t want us anymore. And then she left.” His eyes drop to the floor. “I never told anyone that part. Not Flip, definitely not my dad, or my brothers.”
My heart feels like it’s shattering. What a horrible, hateful, selfish thing to do to another person. Especially her own child. Everything falls into place. Because when she said that to him, she created a core wound, leaving him to believe he’s not enough. He still believes it. One of the most important, influential people in his life, one who was supposed to show him unconditional love, took that away from him and did so much damage in the process. She scarred his heart and made him believe he was intrinsically unlovable. Of course he’s afraid of his feelings. His love wasn’t enough to keep his mother from leaving, so how could it keep me from doing the same? He equates love with loss. Big loss. The life-changing, heart-eviscerating kind.
“I’m so sorry for the way she made you feel, and that she was too selfish and too much of a coward to admit she was the one who didn’t feel like she deserved to be part of your family. I’m sorry she put that on you.” I pause until he meets my eyes. “It isn’t your fault that she left, Tristan. You didn’t cause it. You’re not the reason for it. She wasn’t enough, not you. But you can’t keep hurting the people you care about because of it.”
“I know.”
“Do you, though? Because I hear the words, but your actions say something else,” I tell him gently.
“I fucked this up so bad, Bea. I know that. How I acted last week, the way I shut you out, it wasn’t fair.” He draws a long, shuddering breath. “Lisa broke up with Nate—and he’s got it together when it comes to relationships. He was just…ruined over it. And then you were talking to Essie about stuff you never even told me.” He stares at his hands. “I didn’t think I could ever be what you needed. I couldn’t be the person you came to with things that matter. I know this doesn’t make what I did better, and I understand if you’re done with me. With us. I would get it if you decide you can’t deal with me anymore. But if you give me another chance, I’ll do everything I can to be better. I want to be the one who gives you what you need, if you’ll let me.”
He takes another deep breath and his gaze lifts. “I love you. I’m so in love with you, Beatrix.” He swallows thickly. “I’ve fucked up so hard. Maybe too much. But I want a future with you. It doesn’t matter if we’re living in the same city, or you’re here and I’m somewhere else. All I want is you, Bea. I’ll do anything and everything I can to make it work if you’ll take me back. I’m scared out of my fucking mind, but I would rather be terrified and have you in my life than not have you at all. And I’m probably going to get things wrong, but I promise I’ll try to be the guy you deserve.”
His hopeful, scared expression breaks my heart and makes it swell. “Perfection isn’t something I expect from you, or anyone in my life. You’re allowed to be imperfect. I expect you to be the best version of yourself every day that you can be. Some days will be great, some won’t. Sometimes we’ll make mistakes. But when that happens, we talk things through and figure out how we can do it better next time. We just don’t shut down, or bail, or turn into a grade-A asshole.”
“I’ve done that a lot to you. Shut down and turned into an asshole,” he says quietly.
“You have, but I’ve also allowed it. I’ve accepted being second best for a long time, and I won’t do that anymore because it’s not good for me, or us. And moving forward, I won’t let you get away with that shit. But I also won’t walk away when it gets tough, and I won’t let you do that either. Sometimes it’ll be uncomfortable and scary. But I want to try to make this work if you do.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me another chance?” His expression is so uncertain, I almost want to hug him.
I smile and nod. “Sweet, dirty boy, I love you.”
His eyes flare with surprise. “Really?”
“Really.”
“You love me?” He tries out the words, like they’re new to him. “Even when I’m an asshole?”
“Even when you’re an asshole. But we’ll work on that, and on you being less of a dick when you’re feeling vulnerable.”
“That’s going to take some practice, but I will do whatever it takes to keep you.” He blows out a breath. “Roman gave me a name of a therapist, and as much as I hate talking about fucking feelings, I won’t risk losing you again. I’m working on getting an appointment.” He tips his head. “You really love me?”
“I really love you.”
He shifts on the couch, and suddenly he’s kneeling on the floor between my thighs. He cups my cheek in his palm. “Is this okay?”
“It’s okay.”
“I love you so fucking much, Bea.” He leans in and rubs his nose against mine. I almost melt into the couch. It’s so sweet. His thumb strokes along the edge of my jaw. “I love how thoughtful you always are. I love your kindness, and your intelligence, and your drive.” He kisses me softly. “And I love how patient you’ve been with me while I try to figure out how to deal with all these fucking feelings.”
I laugh, and he grins.
“And I love the sound of your laugh. I want more of that. I want to be the reason you smile. And I never want to be the reason you cry again. It breaks my fucking heart.” He nuzzles into my hair and breathes me in. “I want to take care of you, give you all the things you deserve. I want to make you happy.” He bites the edge of my jaw, and I whimper. “I want to make you feel good in all the ways that count.”
He covers his mouth with mine, and I wrap my arms and legs around him, hooking my feet behind his back. His tongue sweeps my mouth, and he groans. He grips my ass, rising in one smooth motion.
At the same time, our apartment door flies open. “Peggy honey, I brought you donuts from your favorite pl—” Roman comes to an abrupt halt. “Oh shit.”
“Hammer’s already at your place and she’s staying the night,” I tell him. This isn’t the first time he’s let himself in without knocking.
“Right. Good call. I’ll knock next time.” He leaves the way he came, his face an exceptional shade of red.
Tristan crosses to the door, puts on the safety, then carries me across the apartment. He kicks the door to my bedroom shut behind us and climbs onto the bed with me wrapped around him like a koala.
He tears his mouth from mine long enough to ask, “No one else is going to barge into the apartment uninvited tonight?”
“No. Hammer will text and wait for a reply before she comes back.”
“Good, because I want to show you exactly how much I love you tonight.”
He comes in for another kiss, but I put a hand on his chest. “Can I make a request?”
“Absolutely.”
“I know we just did the whole love-declaration thing, and maybe there’s an inclination to, you know, make love, and I definitely think there’s a time and place for that. But I’d rather you turn me into a sex pretzel and do dirty things to me tonight.”
One side of his mouth curls up in a salacious smile. “Careful what you wish for, little Bea.”
“Fuck me like you mean it,” I taunt.
He folds back on his knees. “Strip.”
Everything below the waist clenches, and my nipples peak. I yank my shirt over my head and toss it on the floor. I struggle with the button on my jeans, especially when Tristan lazily discards his own shirt and unzips his pants. I shimmy out of mine as he slides his hand into his boxer briefs. I kick my jeans off and work on unfastening my bra. It takes two tries because my hands are shaking. Tristan frees his erection from his boxers and gives it a slow stroke as I push my panties over my hips.
His eyes travel over me, and I feel it in my vagina. “I love your body. I love your curves and your softness.”
“How do you want me?”
“Every way I can have you, but first I want you to sit on my face.” He shucks off his jeans and stretches out on the bed. He makes a circle motion. “Bring that ass over here. You’re gonna be a good girl and suck my cock while I tongue-fuck your pussy.”
I scramble into position, straddling his chest and shimmying back until I’m hovering over his face.
“So fucking eager.” He smacks my ass. “Look at you, dripping already.” He licks up the inside of my thigh on a low groan. “Come here.” He grabs my hips and pulls me down, then spreads me and licks all the way from my clit to my ass. “So goddamn good.”
He buries his face in my pussy, and I grab his knees, which are bent, so I don’t fall face-first into his erection. I roll my hips along with his strokes of tongue and nipping teeth.
I keep one hand on his knee for balance and grip his shaft, stroking from base to tip before I drag my tongue through the slit, tasting precum. I cover the head with my lips and run my tongue around the crown. I’m rewarded with Tristan’s tongue pushing inside me.
I pop off and lick a path up his shaft. He mimics the movement by lapping at my clit. When I bob on his cock, he sucks and nibbles my clit.
“You’re a fucking gift, Bea.” He latches onto my clit, sucking hard as I take as much of him as I can. I’m pretty sure his nose is inside me when the head of his cock hits the back of my throat, and I’m not sure how he’s breathing. I dig my nails into his thighs as his thumb takes the place of his tongue, which plunges inside me. The orgasm hits me with a force I don’t anticipate. I pop off, sucking in a gasping breath that leaves me as a moan, and topple forward, my face mashing into his thigh. His spit-covered shaft slides over my cheek.
One second, his erection is pressed against the side of my face and the next, I’m on my back, Tristan stretched out between my legs.
His eyes search my face as one hand cups my cheek. “You okay?”
I nod.
“Fuck, I love you.” He kisses me. It’s sloppy and wet, but neither of us seems to care. When he pulls back, his expression is almost tender. “My sweet, filthy girl. I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too.” I moan as his shaft glides over my clit. “Please fuck me now.”
The blunt tip pushes against my entrance, and he hooks the backs of my knees into the crook of his arms, pushing my knees to my chest. He fills me with one hard thrust. The orgasm I was in the middle of a moment ago fires back up, and I grip his biceps.
His hips pull back and he slams back in.
“Oh my sweet lord,” I moan. And then I moan some more as he starts a punishing rhythm. And I keep coming, the wave of bliss seemingly endless. He’s definitely fucking me like he means it.
Eventually, he releases one thigh so he can curl his hand around my throat. He props himself up on his other forearm and finds the perfect angle, his strokes measured and even. He drops his head to kiss me, matching the roll of his hips to the stroke of his tongue. And when I’m close to coming again, he breaks the kiss so he can watch me unravel beneath him.
“I love you, Bea,” he whispers as his rhythm falters.
“I love you, too.” I run my fingers through his hair and press my palm to his throat. “Eyes on mine, baby. I want to see you when you’re coming inside me.”
His smile turns into a snarl as he thrusts, once, twice, a third time. He shudders, and his eyes soften as his erection kicks. I see it, all the love he’s been hiding. I see that boy I used to have a crush on as a teenager, who’s become the man I’ve fallen for.
“There you are.” I smile up at him. “That’s the Tristan I’ve been in love with all along.”
