Page 23 of Tristan’s Temptation

“Hey. No sermons here. I’m just glad you’re getting your groove on again, even if it is in a virtual world. But I have to mention, you’re still just as cranky.” He unleashed an evil-brother grin. “Maybe you should try getting laid for real. Trust me. It’s lots better.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Tristan was glad Adam thought this was all a big joke, that he wasn’t going to dig deeper. If he did, there’d be hell to pay. Tristan was the one, after all, who’d made life so difficult for Adam when he and Kat had started seeing each other. It was his rule that had almost destroyed their romance. If Adam even suspected what had happened between Tristan and Shannon, he would make his brother’s life miserable.

Just one more reason to make sure nothing else ever happened with Shannon again.

Nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

It was nearly ten that night when Tristan finally broke down and called her. He used the phone because they’d already done the computer thing and he’d insisted that couldn’t happen again. The phone, for some reason, he could justify.

It took her awhile to pick up, though he knew she was home. He could see the light streaming softly through her windows as he stood on the bluff overlooking her house.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, watery. Like she’d been crying.

“Shannon?”

“Tristan.” She whispered his name.

“Are you all right?”

She sniffled. “Yeah. I was just, um, watching a movie. How are you?”

“I’m…good.” It was a lie. He was hungry and antsy and annoyed. “I’ve been thinking about you.” Like incessantly.

“Have you?” Her sniffles seemed to have cleared up. She stepped out onto the patio, wearing a terrycloth robe, cell phone in hand, and looked up at his house. He sketched a wave.

“Yes. Have you been thinking about me?”

“A little.” He heard the smile in her voice.

“Just a little?”

“Okay. A lot.” She sat on a lounge chair and pulled a blanket over her lower body. It was a cool night and her legs were bare.

“Did you just get out of the shower?” Something started to simmer in his groin.

“The bath.”

He groaned at the vision her words stuck in his head. “Did you have bubbles?”

“Not tonight. But I could do that, if it would interest you. I’d let you watch.”

“Would you?” He liked that idea. He liked it very much. “Did you touch yourself while you were in the bath?”

She chortled. “Of course, Tristan. But do you know what?”

“What?” He was mindless with curiosity.

“I’m touching myself right now.”

“What?” He almost dropped his cell over the cliff. Jesus. There. On the balcony. Outside.

“Yeah,” she moaned, deep and low. He swore he could see the undulations inside her robe, under the blanket, a quarter mile away. In the shadows.

“Shannon, Jesus. You’re killing me.”