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Tristan is tall at 6’3, but he’s lean and muscled—thanks to the couple of times he spends at the gym when he’s not on duty at the hospital or studying or hanging out with me.
I watch his back and can’t help but marvel at how freaking hot and sexy this man is and how I’m lucky to have him as my best friend and, hopefully, someone more … after tonight, that is.
The air is cool and carries with it the faint scent of pine and earth. Good thing I chose to wear sneakers because the ground is soft and yielding. Each step I take makes a squelching sound, and I can feel the mud seeping into the treads.
I walk faster to catch up with Tristan and slip my arm through his. God, he’s all packed muscle, which is why I can never help but touch him every chance I get.
“I have to tell you something,” I say.
“Why are you whispering? There’s no one else here.”
“Oh, right.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“I’ve … I think something’s wrong with me.”
He halts abruptly and whips his head to me, eyes searching my face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He transfers the blanket to the other arm with the basket, touching my forehead and cheek and scanning my face with his piercing gaze. “You’re not feeling well?”
Shaking my head, I chuckle and focus my gaze on the mud clinging to his shoes. “No, no. It’s not that. I’m perfectly fine. It’s … I’ve never had an orgasm before. I think maybe I can’t.”
I shyly lift my face to his. His pupils dilate and his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows hard. The moment he speaks, his voice drops an octave. “We’re gonna have to remedy that.”
That simple answer has me clenching my thighs, trying to stop the gush of wetness from sliding down my legs. Dang it. I should’ve worn panties. Now I can’t hide the fact that I’m thoroughly aroused with only his words. He hasn’t even touched me yet, and I’m already drenched.
We eventually get to the lake, and as usual, it takes my breath away. I used to spend hours just staring at the surface, letting my mind drift, or sketching while Tristan studied beside me.
He lays the blanket on the soft grass by the water’s edge. It’s already dark elsewhere, but the mansion provides enough light for us. Someone also hung string lights on the trees.
I don’t know why anyone would do that. No one ever comes here.
I help Tristan unpack the wicker basket, taking out jars, bread, and to-go boxes. Our fingers brush occasionally, and I feel a jolt down my spine every single time. There’s a pool of warmth low in my belly, but when I look at him, it’s like it doesn’t affect him the same way.
God, what if this is a mistake? What if our friendship ends after tonight and I’ll end up without Tristan for the rest of my days? That fear extinguishes whatever desire I felt a second ago. A life without him scares me to death.
Maybe it’s because I know something’s about to change between us or that the night will end with him buried inside me, but I can’t focus on the food.
Tristan prepared my favorites—Monte Cristo with a side of curly fries, mini quiches, and fruits on a skewer.
We’re only about halfway through and in the middle of a boisterous laugh when the skies suddenly open up. The first fat raindrop lands on my forehead, and I squint at the sky. It was already night, so we didn’t notice the dark clouds rolling in. Another raindrop falls and another, each one heavier and more urgent, making the lake’s surface ripple wildly.
I scramble to gather the food and blanket, but Tristan grabs my wrist. He shouts over the roar of the torrential downpour, “Leave it, Bun. Let’s go!”
The rain is relentless, and we find ourselves drenched. We dash toward the nearest cluster of trees, and our shoes sink and slip on the mud. The mud sucks at our feet, making it difficult to run farther.
Finally, we reach the trees and huddle together—breathless, soaked, and cold. Our gazes meet and we both burst out laughing. Water streams down our faces and my clothes are stuck to my skin, but we only laugh harder.
Tristan’s black hair is plastered to his forehead, droplets of water clinging to his thick, long eyelashes, his glasses sliding down his nose. The laughter dies on his lips when he sees the way I’m staring at him. His dark brown eyes darken, and he drops his gaze to my slightly open mouth.
Just like that, the cold is gone, replaced by warmth that spreads to every part of my body.
The rain continues to pour around us, but I can’t see anything except him or hear anything except my pounding heartbeat. Tristan traces the length of my body with his smoldering gaze, and it makes me rub my thighs together. He sees it and clenches his jaw.
“Fuck.”
The words barely leave his mouth when he pushes me against the tree and kisses me hard. His one hand grips my thigh and brings it to his waist, while his other hand cups my breast. He coaxes my mouth to open and, when I do, plunges his tongue inside.
Oh God. This feels way better than I imagined.
