Page 135 of My Unfinished Heart

“No, no. You’re right. I want you to fall in love with me. I want you to need me. I want you to tell me all the things you thought you could never tell anyone, and I want to be worth the wait.”

“What if I wasn’t?” I ask. “What if I’m not?”

“We’re just getting started. Give me a minute, okay?”

“Tristan—this isn’t all on you.”

He snorts.

I frown and pull my face away to look at him.

“What?” he asks. “You think I don’t know whose mess this is? Who’s gonna have to be the one to clean it up? That’s why I called him. I need us to move on. He’s had time to process the fact that I’m with you, and I’m not fucking going anywhere, and now we need to get past it. I’m the one who lied. I’m the one who snuck around. You were just over here telling me shit I should have already known. It’s my fault it came out at the worst possible time.”

“Hey, no.” I smooth my hand over his hair. “You’re not the only one who can’t let this go.”

He closes his eyes. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Timing,” I say.

“I mean, I won’t lie—if you could have run into me in May, that would’ve worked out a lot better for all involved, I think.”

“Why do you think the anniversary got to him so bad this year?”

“I’m not sure it’s just that,” he says. “I think there’s something else. Like—in his head.”

“If you need to go, you can go. If you promise to come back.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I need.” His lips meet mine. I open for him. His tongue plays against mine a moment before he seals our mouths firmly together.

What he needs becomes obvious as his cock hardens on mine.

TWENTY-THREE

Don’t Panic

If wanting Tristan continues to be this painful, I’m not sure I’ll survive it. And he might not, either.

“Take me to bed, we’re too far apart.”

I know exactly what he means. That this pain is mutual, and we only have two ways of sharing it. We’ve already talked enough tonight.

He undresses me with quick fingers, barely needing to separate his mouth from mine until he peels off my shirt, and then it’s only for a second. Though lacking some of his dexterity, I manage to get him naked, too. Once his nipple rings are scraping my chest, and the kiss is growing increasingly savage, I back him up against the bed and put myself on top of him.

He scrambles beneath me to get his feet onto the mattress, and I follow, kissing him wherever my mouth lands. His nipples, his collarbone, his neck. I give a special kiss to the tattoo behind his ear as I run my hand down his side with the goal of getting one of his ass cheeks firmly in hand.

He lifts his leg to help me out.

“You look good like this,” I tell him.

When we’re together, Tristan and I do one of two things. We talk, or we fuck. The conversation, more often than not, doesn’t stop just because we’re naked together. We’re not big TV watchers, and we don’t leave the house often, but maybe it’s just been an intense week. Maybe we’ll settle into something else eventually.

“You should see yourself right now.” He’s looking up at me like I’m a fucking god.

I slide my cock over his, lowering my hips to maintain the friction.

He licks his lips, and his aqua gaze hoods. His lower body gives a sexy roll, ass clenching in my hold. He runs a hand over one of my pecs, squeezing lightly, brushing my nipple with his thumb. “Bench press is paying off.”

“Yeah? You should feel my abs.”