by Liz Gavin
Once in the bathroom, he realized he would have to put his damp shirt and jeans back on after a cooling shower. That would feel disgusting, so he sauntered back to the bedroom and went through the drawers and closet searching for a solution. A dark blue plush robe would do it. He undressed and draped his clothes on the back of the two chairs that sat by the side of the bed. The clothes would dry, while they ate and made flight reservations. Then, he would feel more comfortable wearing them, when he went home.
Tristan came out of the shower and grabbed his white boxer briefs, but couldn’t talk himself into stepping into them. Deciding to go commando, he tied the belt tightly around his waist, and laid the underwear on the seat of the chair to dry.
A rap on the suite door announcing dinner had arrived came as he crossed the bedroom threshold connecting it to the entrance hall. Izzie was pacing the living room as she talked on her cell phone, so she swung the door open before Tristan got to it. Either she had outgrown the constant self-consciousness of her youth, or she didn’t realize she was wearing a see-through cami and short pajama set. The blue lavender flowers printed on the fabric drew one’s eyes to her best assets. Tristan let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding when he saw a woman was carrying the room service tray. He didn’t want to think what he would have done, if a man came in through the door, drooling over Izzie.
“Thanks, Rosa. Just put it on the usual spot, please,” Izzie directed the apparent regular server as she cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, fishing money from her wallet to tip the woman for her service.
“Sure, Ms. Anderson.”
Izzie signed the slip of paper Rosa handed out to her and returned it, folded around a ten-dollar tip. “Here you go. Good night, Rosa.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Good night.”
Tristan followed the mouth-watering smell to the table where Rosa had settle the tray. A glass and chrome round table surrounded by six brown plush covered chairs. He found placemats in a nearby cabinet and set the plates, silverware and the food on the table.
Izzie wrapped up her phone call. “The contract is clear. I don’t need to do anything. I’m not going on tour anytime soon. I don’t care. You deal with the studio heads, Steve, that’s your job. Mine is taking care of my son. Don’t call me again before you straighten out the mess you’ve made.”
“Sorry to overhear your conversation,” Tristan apologized as they took their seats at opposite sides of the table.
“That’s fine. I wasn’t discussing state secrets or anything like that,” she observed as she took a seat beside him. “This smells delicious.”
“Wait until you try chef Durand’s lobster bisque.”
Izzie had a spoonful of the creamy soup before replying, “Hmm, his bisque has got to be something else to beat this one.”
“It is.”
“Funny you mention Chez Nous. I haven’t returned to your restaurant since that first night. Are you keeping me away from there?”
“Don’t be silly. We’ve been too busy, that’s all.”
“So, when are you taking me there for dinner?” Her eyes sparkled in the bright room with something so close to flirtation, Tristan doubted he saw it right.
He shrugged and attacked the focaccia to keep from putting his foot in his mouth. They ate in silence for a while and Tristan admitted to himself he enjoyed the food as much as he did the company. If he were to be honest, he looked forward to those outings with Izzie. Evidence of that was the fact that he hadn’t put up much of a fight when she invited him up for dinner. The cozy hotel suite surrounding them, together with the comfy clothes they were wearing, contributed to a sense of familiarity and closeness that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. So long, in fact, he had forgotten how good Izzie used to make him feel.
Don’t go there, dude. You’ll be so screwed. Focus on getting dinner and those damn flight reservations. Then, scram!
He decided to steer the conversation back to safer topics. “How are you enjoying Florianópolis so far?”
Izzie knitted her eyebrows. “Fine, I guess. I haven’t seen much of it.”
“Luckily, the weather has been nice, though. It can get pretty stuffy and humid in late summer.”
They discussed irrelevant topics in a trivial tone until the meal was over.
Tristan suggested, “Should we book the flights tonight? There’s another couple of days-worth of testing before the doctors give me a clean bill of health, but I guess it’s looking good, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” Izzie stood up and moved towards the main bedroom. Tristan’s blood froze, and his stomach flipped, as he imagined she would invite him in with the excuse of checking the airline companies on her computer. He feared he would give in to the escalating sexual tension he had been battling since he got out of the guest room. Izzie’s throaty voice drifted from the bedroom to caress his ears. “I guess the couch is more comfortable than the table now that we cluttered it with dishes, right? I’ll grab my laptop and be back in a jiffy.”
Trying to understand why he felt disappointed instead of relieved, when she killed his suspicions, Tristan fluffed the cushions. After repeating the gesture for a couple of times, he elected a spot on one end of the long brown leather couch to sit. Plenty of room for Izzie. Before she reappeared, the living room lights’ brightness dropped to a candlelit dim mood and soothing jazz floated from built-in loudspeakers.
What the hell?
“I think we’re entitled to some relaxation after these last intense days. Hope you don’t mind it.”
She sounded almost detached, which was in stark contrast to her intense stare, when she emerged from her bedroom. They locked eyes and air abandoned his lungs. The room had just turned stuffy. As Izzie sat beside Tristan, so close their thighs touched, it took him a moment to realize she wasn’t carrying her laptop. He had been too busy making sure his eyes stayed on hers as opposed to wandering down her body as they itched to do. When he glanced at her lap, and didn’t see the computer, he cut his stare back to her face.
She smiled.
No words.
Nothing.
Just a fucking Monalisa smile.
Tristan nodded towards the bedroom door. “Forgot something?”
“Changed my mind,” she whispered and the pink tip of her tongue riding her lower lip did funny things to his half-hard cock.
The gears in his head ground to half-speed as she wrapped the end of the belt of his robe around her index finger. Eyes glued to the hypnotic movement, brain had checked out. He forced his mouth to say something, anything, to keep him from doing something stupid, like pouncing on Izzie. “Woman’s prerogative?”
She chuckled. “You could say that.”
Paralyzed, he kept watching her, when she reached under the plush material of his robe and glided her hand on his chest.
He should stop her fingers.
He should stand and leave.
He closed his eyes and dropped his head on the couch, when her nails scratched his hard nipple.
Hissing, he covered her hands with his and pressed them to his chest. “I missed this.”
She splayed one hand over his heart and he sat upright, gazing into her passionate stare, when he felt the cool metal of the Claddagh ring against his skin.
She closed her eyes, leaning down and touching her ear to his chest. “I missed this. Your heartbeat has always been my favorite lullaby.”
“Shit, Izzie.”
Half laughing, half crying, she welcomed him as Tristan pulled her face up and angled it to cover her mouth in a tentative kiss. Unsure of what to expect, he grazed her soft lips as his fingers caressed her short hair. She took matters into her own hands, pulling his head down and forcing her tongue between his teeth, invading his mouth and decimating whatever feeble resistance he still had.
Coming up for air, she muttered as she rained kisses on his lips and cheeks. “What took you so long? I thought I would have to striptease to get your attention?”
“You kidding? You had my full attention since I came out of the shower. I didn’t know what to do with you though.”
“Well, now you do.” She swung a leg over his and sat on his lap, framing his face and kissing him again.
Tristan felt his cock coming to life under the loose robe when her warmth teased it as she rubbed herself against him. Grabbing her hips, he stopped her movements and waited until she looked up into his eyes. “Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to do anything foolish that we’ll regret later, but if we’re going to stop, we must stop now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop later.”
“It’s not a big deal. We’re consenting adults. We’ve had a couple of rough weeks and we’re letting off some steam.” She shrugged. “You know, it’s just a pleasant way to relax.”
“It’s not that simple between us and you know it, Izzie. Nothing has really changed. I mean, having sex won’t erase the past. We’ll have to work hard on our issues before we can say the last fifteen years are dead in the past, am I right?”
She sighed and sat on his knees. “I know it, but let’s pretend it’s simple for just this night, okay? Can you do that? I want you and you want me. That much is simple.”
Tristan nodded. “I can live with that.”
He could live with much less than that.
He had been living on scraps of faded memories and unconfessed wishes for the last fifteen years.
He’d be damned if he didn’t take what Izzie was willingly offering.
He covered her mouth, kissing her with pent-up hunger, and thrusted his hips up when she glided on his thighs until their bodies collided and the intensity of his reactions to her stole his breath away.
His ability to think had been a goner for a while.
13
Izzie
As she slammed her upper body against Tristan’s, she pulled at his hair and tore at the robe. She needed to feel his bare skin, his warmth under her. He rolled them so that her back laid on the couch and he braced himself on one arm, caressing her with the free hand. His hot palm cupped her cheek, smoothed her shoulder, teased her breast and abdomen, then traveled down to her pelvis and thighs. He hooked it behind her knee and brought it up to his waist.
Eyeballing her, he dipped his head and whispered inside her ear as he nibbled on her earlobe, “You’re perfect.”
She knew she was not in any sense, but hearing him say those words warmed her from deep inside. She groaned as his fingers hooked on the waistband of her silk shorts, pulling them down her legs and throwing them over his shoulder.
His eyebrows shot up when he noticed she wasn’t wearing panties. “I like the way you think.”
Tristan cupped her sex, then teased her hard nub with his thumb as his index finger dove inside her. She expected him to kiss her, but he seemed interested in studying her reactions, so she locked eyes with him.
Two could play that game.
She hitched her knee and moved her thigh to give him easier access.
He inserted a second finger while his thumb kept pressing down on her clit. He crooked his index finger to reach for her sweet spot and she moaned when the pad of his finger found it. Intensifying his stroking movements, Tristan brought her to the brink of an orgasm and slowed his fingers down when her flesh trembled under them.
She was about to complain when he leaned down to whisper against her lips, “I don’t want to take you on a couch, not after all these years. We deserve better.”
Standing, he reached out his hand and she grabbed it. He pulled her up and into a loose embrace. She squealed when he scooped her up in his arms. Once in the main bedroom, he laid her in the middle of the bed, and shrugged out of the robe, while she pulled the cami over her head and dropped it on the floor. Kneeling on the mattress beside her, he hovered over Izzie and she admired his body. Still as athletic and powerful as she remembered.
She sat upright and caressed his erection. “My turn. Lie down.”
She settled between his thighs when he did and licked his large head before sliding it over her tongue. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked and licked Tristan, bobbing her head up and down like he had taught her to do. She had given head to other men, but none compared to Tristan. She truly enjoyed his scent and the texture as his cock poked the back of her throat. His loud moans and the tightening in his balls told her she’d better stop.
As if reading her mind, Tristan ran his fingers through her hair and pleaded, “That’s enough, sweetheart. I don’t want to come in your mouth. Not now.”
She didn’t want that either, so she let go of his erection and moved, intent on straddling him. Tristan stopped her from doing so, and knelt on the bed in front of her, cupping her cheeks. Capturing her mouth, he moved his lips slowly over hers and traced them with his tongue, but didn’t deepen the kiss. Pulling away, he smiled into her eyes. “I know being on top is your favorite position, but I’d rather try something different. Are you game?”
Intrigued, she conceded, “As long as it doesn’t involve pain.”
“No! None of that. Are you into it now?”
“Nope.”
“Good. I feel like neither of us should be on top for this first time. It’s a power thing, a sex position. So, I want us to be equals. If we’re to work on trust issues and stuff, we’d better begin in the bedroom, don’t you think?”
She couldn’t agree more. She smooched his cheek and giggled. “You’re amazing, Tristan Knight. How did I get so lucky?”
“Did you just giggle?” His expression was priceless.
“What can I say? You make me feel young again.”
He shook his head and the corner of his lips hitched up in his famous lopsided smile. She had missed that too. “I want to make you feel so much more than that. Come here.”
He gathered her in his arms, sitting on his heels and guiding her to sit on his thighs. She swung a leg over his, bracing herself on her knees, as she positioned each one on either side of Tristan’s legs.
As he adjusted the condom he had unwrapped, Izzie’s mind took her back to a certain prom night. She didn’t want to ask him if he remembered it for fear of breaking the spell of the moment. Although his logic made sense just now, when he explained that position would make them equals, she couldn’t avoid wondering if some part of his subconscious had taken Tristan to their first night, their first orgasm.
She put all thought aside when he kissed her again, this time with passion and hunger. His expert lips devoured hers and his tongue invaded her mouth, stroking its velvety length against hers. She crossed her arms behind his neck, embraced his hips with her thighs, and gasped when he seized her tiny waist and pulled her down his erection. He filled her up and her tight walls gripped his cock when they moved against each other, up and down, in and out.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against her when her flesh began trembling around his cock. She dropped her head back and closed her eyes to savor the feeling of Tristan’s dick twitching inside her again. She didn’t try to hide a satisfied smile. He pinched her clit and her eyes flew open. “Stay with me,” he asked.
She couldn’t deny him that, so she gazed into his blue eyes, turned almost black by passion, and groaned when the first orgasm hit her like an eighteen-wheeler. She gasped and gritted her teeth, but didn’t let go of his stare. Spearing her fingers through his hair, she increased her speed, moving up and down his lap, his cock stabbing her womb with each pass.
Tristan grunted and scratched her back, when he reached his climax. Unloading his cock deep inside her, he fused their lips in a passionate kiss as she crossed her ankles on the mattress behind him and reached her second wave of bliss.
Throughout the night, they rediscovered each other’s bodies and what made them tick and curl their toes. Although Izzie was aware they had a long way to go before Tristan would trust her again, she was optimistic he would eventually forget past mistakes.
The following morning, as they sat down in the hotel main
restaurant for breakfast, their future looked promising. “I’m glad you stayed last night.”
“I’m glad you twisted my arm to stay.”
She punched Tristan’s upper arm and he flinched as if she had hurt him. “Don’t be a wuss. I cannot possibly hurt you with a fake slap like that.”
“You hurt my feelings,” he replied in mock indignation. He laughed out loud and she joined him.
Covering his hand with hers, she sobered up. “Seriously, Big T. Thanks for letting me in, for giving us a second chance. We’ll make it work this time. I promise.”
He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Dig into your omelet, young lady. You’ll need energy to keep up with me today.”
She let the naughty come out to play. “Oh, really? I remember I wasn’t the one begging for mercy last night.”
“You think I’m made of rubber or something? I don’t run on batteries,” he countered, and the double meaning wasn’t lost on her. “I just needed a second to recoup, that was all.”
“Yeah, let’s go with that.”
Izzie didn’t have time to continue tormenting him on the subject because a fan came up to their table.
“I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but would you mind if we took a picture?”
“Not at all.”
Tristan stretched out his hand for the young guy’s phone. “I’ll take it for you.”
“Oh, I kind of hoped you’d be in it as well Mr. Knight, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure.” Tristan shrugged and signaled for a waiter to approach. “Would you mind taking a picture?”
“Absolutely, sir.” The man accepted the phone, snapped the picture and returned it to the fan.
“Thanks! My friends will go berserk when they see this,” the guy muttered to himself as he turned towards the restaurant exit.