He shrugs.“I try not to eat it on tour because I’d probably weigh five hundred pounds, and the milk makes my voice phlegmy.It’s all about moderation.”
I try to hide my smile with another bite of my pie.“But you could eat it endlessly.”
“God yes,” he mumbles as he closes his eyes around a mouthful of his chocolate fudge brownie.Then he lets out a deep moan, and my smile falls from my face as my blood heats and a pulsing ache between my legs throbs almost painfully.My mind immediately imagines him making that sound doing something else entirely, and I couldn’t hide the blush from my cheeks if I tried.
He opens his eyes, and the blue is darker than usual.Our gazes linger on each other, until I notice movement, and I follow the motion of his tongue sliding across his lips getting every last taste of chocolate.When I glance back up, his gaze is locked on my lips, hunger so obvious in his eyes, I’d think he hadn’t eaten in days if I hadn’t just had a meal with him.
I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I’m helpless to stop it, and honestly, I don’t want to.If I’m going to take this leap with anyone, Tristan is the man I’d choose.As much as this is uncharted territory for us and absolutely terrifying, there’s no one else who could possibly make me feel safer than Tristan does.
He pays the bill and escorts me out of the restaurant, his hand resting comfortably on my lower back.The heat of his palm only adds to the tension thrumming through my body.Like a gentlemen, he opens the car door for me and then he starts the drive back to my house.He seems restless on the drive, and I keep staring at his large hands, one on the wheel, the other resting on the shifter.His car’s an automatic, so he doesn’t have to do any shifting, but he rests it comfortably there, nonetheless.It takes me a few minutes to realize my own restlessness is because I miss his hand on my body.I liked the way he touched me at the restaurant—simple, gentle touches I felt everywhere.
Being bold, I reach over and slide my hand on top of the one resting on the shifter.He immediately flips it over and interlaces our fingers.I see him turn his head toward me in my periphery, but my own gaze is locked on where our hands are joined and how perfectly my hand fits in his, like they were made for each other.When I do look up at him, his eyes are back on the road, but his body has settled and he seems calmer, like our touch affects him the same way it affects me.
Is it crazy that a simple touch can have such a large impact?
When we pull up to my house, he comes around and opens my door, then takes my hand, interlacing our fingers once again for the walk to my door.We don’t speak, but we don’t need to.There is so much being said in the silence.In the way he holds my hand a little tighter as we walk up the steps.In the reluctant way I loosen my grip and our hands slide apart until only our fingertips are clinging to each other.My breathing picks up as I turn to him and look into those bright blue eyes that suddenly make me feel things I didn’t think I could ever feel again.
He leans forward slowly like he’s waiting for me to stop him.But I don’t want to stop him.If anything, I want him to move faster.I want him to quiet the guilt and the fear and the longing.I want his lips on mine more than I want my next breath.
“Jo,” he whispers, his warm breath fanning over my face.His voice is rough and I imagine him saying my name while he makes love to me.My nipples peak, and I can’t take the wait anymore.Pushing up on my tiptoes, I wrap my hands around his neck and pull his face to mine until our lips finally connect.
Kissing Tristan is as easy as breathing.It’s natural, necessary.He groans and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me tight against his body.His erection is a steel rod between us, and that scares me too, but I still want it.Acknowledging that thought makes doubt rise up, but Tristan kisses me harder, his tongue gliding into my mouth and dancing with my tongue like the most perfect dance partner, and just like I wished, he quiets everything except my lingering desire for him.It grows until I feel like I’m burning up with how badly I want him.
“Tristan,” I say breathlessly, pulling him toward the door, hoping my actions will tell him what I want, if he doesn’t know already.
He stops me and drops his forehead to mine.“You have no idea how badly I want you, Jo.No fucking clue.But not tonight.”
Like popping a balloon, I instantly deflate.“Why?”
He stands up tall, shaking his head and looking up at the sky before he looks back at me.“Not until you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”If he knew how wet I was right now, he wouldn’t be questioning it.
He stares at me, seeing into me in a way only he ever could.And I know what’s stopping him.He can see the guilt.The same guilt his kiss quieted.
“Tris,” I start.
“No.It’s okay, Jo.I know this is hard for you.I know how much you love him.I love him too, and you’re not the only one struggling with this.But I can’t touch you, not the way I want to, until I know you’re really mine to touch.”
He leans down and places a tender kiss on my forehead that makes my heart ache.
“I’ve waited a long time.I can wait a little longer.And until then, I’d like to keep taking you out on dates.”
I can’t help smiling.“I’d like that too.”
With one more too-brief kiss, he waits for me to get inside and lock the door before he walks back to his car.I watch him drive off from the window and then fall onto the couch, staring at the ceiling and thinking about what it’ll take to not feel guilty anymore.
I don’t come up with any answers.