Page 11 of Tristan’s Temptation

They came together—the three of them. As her moans and groans, her fevered movements, became inevitably more wild and frantic, Tristan couldn’t stop himself from stroking his cock, faster, harder, as desperate and feral as the woman on the screen. At the last moment, he had the presence of mind not to shoot his wad all over her laptop, but just barely. He released his passion into a quickly grabbed tissue and collapsed on the sofa, too drained to even contemplate the secrets he’d just learned about a woman he thought he knew.

Chapter Three

Shannon was already at her desk when Tristan arrived in the office the next morning, dressed demurely and sitting straight-backed in her task chair, shuffling through some papers.

“Good morning, Mr. Trillo.” She didn’t so much as glance up as he approached. He tried not to let it annoy him.

How could she look so reserved, so modest and detached, when last night a scene of her making had whipped him into a mindless frenzy? What depths bubbled beneath that cool British exterior? What would it be like to explore…

Harshly, he yanked his wandering mind from the question and strengthened his resolve to resist her allure. He’d castigated himself most of the night for his lapse, in between sessions of madly jerking off. He should never have opened her laptop. Once he’d realized the mistake, he should have driven back to her house and switched machines.

But he hadn’t and now he would burn for it. Every time he saw her, he would burn. Because now he knew the truth.

“Here,” he said without preamble, shoving her laptop into her hands. “I gave you mine by mistake.”

“Yes, Mr. Trillo.” She offered a small, impersonal smile. “I noticed. I put yours on your desk.”

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” He stood there, not sure what to say, not sure it would be wise to say anything, and then he blurted, “Were you able to finish the quarterlies?”

Their gazes met. Her eyes were wide and thickly fringed with dark lashes. He wanted to sink into them. She appeared slightly amused but her response was as prim and professional as usual. “Yes. I finished the edits and printed out copies for the staff meeting.”

“Okay. Good.” Still he lingered, loath to leave. For some reason. “Did you make the coffee?”

She dipped her head to hide it but her amusement was now utterly undeniable. “Yes, Mr. Trillo,” she said like a schoolgirl reciting a classroom welcome, and he cringed.

In five years, Shannon had never once failed to make coffee before a staff meeting. It had been a stupid question, a question designed to prolong this interaction. Which was, in itself, stupid. Stupid with a hint of desperate.

But he didn’t want to go into his office and stare at her through the blinds.

He wanted to stare at her from right here. The view was better.

“Can I get you some?”

Tristan blinked. “Huh? What?”

Shannon glanced at him from beneath those extraordinarily long, thick lashes. “Coffee.” The hint of a pink tongue dabbed at her lush lips. “Can I get you some coffee?”

Hell. If he didn’t know better, he would think she was flirting. But that was nuts. No. This impression was nothing but a delusional backlash from last night’s revelations. Now that he knew the truth about her steamy side, his horny subconscious would likely invest every casual word, each indifferent action, with lurid sexual underpinnings.

“No. Thanks.” He shifted from foot to foot. “I have to go into my office now,” he said. “And work.”

Her lips twitched, a tiny, knowing smile. “Of course.”

He knew he was acting like a doofus but he couldn’t help it. At the moment, he was a doofus. He stormed into his office and with a brutal twist of his wrist closed the blinds. The last thing he needed was to watch her sitting there all day long. Looking so damn sexy.

He watched her, sitting there next to him at the conference table, looking so damn sexy, and tried like hell to control his raging hard-on. Thank God Jack Maris was the one giving the bulk of today’s presentations. Tristan had only been responsible for the quarterly update and he hadn’t had to stand for that. Thank God. Not even a blind man could miss his hard-on if he stood right now. Hell, he’d probably knock the blind man over with it if he got too close.

So instead he sat there, ignoring Jack’s presentation, and fantasized about Shannon bending over the conference table wearing nothing but a dog collar and vinyl boots.

It was torture. Sheer torture.

But he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the scenario that had sent him to the moon last night, or the others he’d found once he’d recuperated from the most draining orgasm of his life. Visions of Shannon seducing him at a grocery store and fucking him silly on a tropical beach and giving him head as he piloted a spacecraft through the Crab Nebula danced through his head. And more.

What was worse, her fantasies had fired more of his. He would need a month online to create all the scenarios crowding his mind.

She crowded his mind. He wondered if he would ever be able to concentrate on work again.