Tempting Tristan

by Melissa Foster

  He clears his throat, and I tighten my hand on his shoulder. I know it’s probably as hard for him to relive it as it is for me to hear it. He feels good against my side. He feels solid and right. We’re nearing my house, and I slow our pace. We’ve only just regained control, and I know that once we’re alone, we’ll be all over each other again. I want that. Man, do I ever want that. But I don’t want anything to distract us from this important conversation.

  “I came by about the time she should have been arriving home. I wanted to make sure she got home okay, and she liked to talk about the kids after her visits.” He lifts pained eyes to me. “They’d just taken her away. The driver had gotten worried when she didn’t answer the door and called the police. They said she went in her sleep, which you probably already know.”

  His voice cracks, and I gather him in my arms, offering strength and borrowing his in equal measure.

  He pushes free and says, “Sorry.”

  I pull him back in. “Get over here and be a pussy with me.”

  He laughs, and we embrace for a long moment. Then we stumble up the beach toward my house.

  “Tell me what you want, T. What are you looking for in a relationship?”

  “That’s a pretty deep question.”

  “Not any deeper than what we were talking about, and it’s important.”

  He stops at the bottom of the steps leading up to the house. “I’ll make you a deal,” he says as my hand returns to its new home around his waist. “Grab us a few drinks, and I’ll answer your question, but in return, you need to share something with me.”

  As I head inside, grinding my teeth against the idea of telling him about my leg, the incident that caused it, or the guilt that haunts me about my grandmother, I realize my reaction is force of habit. Even if he doesn’t answer my question, I want to try to let him in.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tristan

  ALEX AND I are camped on the clearing beside the boulders behind Arty’s bungalow, where spiky dune grass grows in tufts between patches of sand. It’s a gorgeous spot overlooking the ocean and is where Arty drank her coffee in the mornings. I’ve always thought it was the perfect spot for a rock garden. Alex and I are drinking beer and dancing around touchy subjects. Part of me is terrified to admit what I want in a relationship. Not only because it would make it easier for him to pretend to be the type of man I’m looking for, but also because it’s doing exactly what I told myself I wouldn’t: opening myself up to being hurt, giving fuel to a fire that could easily trounce on my heart. I’m only just recovering from the last time I was used as a doormat.

  Alex reaches for my hand, and a small smile appears on his face. He’s too sexy in all the ways that are dangerous to me. Beyond being insanely hot, he says things that stop me in my tracks. I’m the guy you deserve. It takes a lot of balls to say that to a guy he’s only known for a day. And somehow, when he said it, I felt like it was true—which is what scares me the most. Lord knows there is nothing in my dating history to show that I’m a good judge of character.

  “Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

  His comment takes me completely off guard, just as he did when he asked me out—or rather, told me he would pick me up for our date. Hell if I don’t like that about him, too. He’s not like any of the guys I’ve dated in the past, and for now I take that as a very good sign.

  “I should thank you,” I say. “You paid.”

  “No, I mean it. I pushed my way into your evening, and this has been one of the most enjoyable nights I’ve had in years.”

  I agree, and work up the nerve to answer his earlier question. “You asked me what I’m looking for in a relationship, and the truth is, I’m not looking.”

  “I know you said you were taking a break. I’m not asking you to marry me, so don’t freak out. But, T, I’ve only spent a short time with you, and I can’t imagine how some guy hasn’t snatched you up already. Are you looking for someone unattainable, or do you have really lousy taste in men?”

  As laughter falls from my lips, I realize I’ve laughed more tonight than I have in weeks. “My buddy Brandon, who’s bisexual and will most likely try to fuck you at some point, tells me I should have been a lesbian.”

  He takes a long pull of his beer. “I think I need fuel for this conversation.”

  “He says I’m like a chick,” I explain. “Guys are always looking for the next best thing. To bring another guy into the mix or to conquer their next prey. I’ve never been wired that way. According to Brandon’s vast experience, lesbians have two awesome dates and they’re setting up house. That’s why he says I should have been a lesbian.”

  “Because you want monogamy?”

  I shrug. “You make it sound so normal. It sure doesn’t feel normal based on the guys I’ve been with. What are you looking for? You said it’s been a long time for you, too.”

  “My long time and your long time are a world apart,” he says seriously.

  “As wide of a world apart as allowance and acceptance?”

  He nods. “You’re a good listener.”

  “So I’m told.” I finish my beer and set the bottle beside me.

  “I’ve never looked,” he says quietly.

  “Never looked?”

  “For a relationship. For a guy. For a hookup.” He stares out at the water. “I went to college and guys found me. But hooking up wasn’t my goal. I was there to get my degree, and sure, to get laid. But you know, that wasn’t the end-all for me. I grew up with a mother whose idea of stability was staying in the same location for longer than a month. I didn’t want that to be my future, and I knew I couldn’t do much with a degree in fine arts. I figured the military was about the only way I could make ends meet, build a career.”

  “Why didn’t you give your woodwork a try? You’re so talented.”

  “Thanks, but it was complicated. Starting a business takes time and money. I knew I wanted a family of my own one day, which meant being the man of the house. Earning the lion’s share of the income. I was a kid with no business knowledge, no experience in anything other than meaningless part-time jobs, school, and instability. I knew the military would give me a stable foundation and a hope for some kind of future. I figured I’d find time to work with my art at some point. And I know you’re wondering, so I’ll just put this out there. Yes, I knew it would be hard to be a gay man in the military. My grandfather was a vet, and he told me how difficult it would be. I knew it was going to be an uphill battle, but I wanted to make my family proud and I hoped that one day I’d be the type of man my partner could be proud of. I figured I’d save money, one day open my business, and in the meantime, do something meaningful.”

  “How long were you in?”

  “Just under eight years. My grandfather’s warning could have been ten times harsher and it wouldn’t have come close to being accurate. I made the mistake of telling the guys on my team, who seemed pretty accepting. It quickly became apparent that they weren’t. They made jokes and that kind of shit. In the army, your team becomes your family. They’re the ones you’re with no matter what. They’re with you when you join a squad, a platoon, a company, or a battalion. The number of people in each of those groups multiplies exponentially—and so do attitudes and opinions. Lock down, shut up, and act straight—whatever the hell that means—became my silent mantra.”

  “I’ve never run into anything on that large of a scale. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been. Why did you stay in so long?”

  “Because those guys were my family. My stability. They’d give their lives for me, as I would for them. Sex is sex. But that camaraderie? That brotherhood? Regardless of what they thought of my sexual orientation, our bond was tight. It was everything I’d missed growing up.”

  “But what did you do for sex?”

  “I took care of it when I was on leave. It’s not like I had time to think about sex. We were in the field a lot, and I couldn’t afford to have my mind anywhere but in the figh
t. When we were on base, I was working out, designing furniture, catching up with my family, and trying to fit in. I hooked up with a few guys, but it was like a covert mission every damn time.” He releases my hand and runs both of his through his hair. When he meets my gaze, his eyes are dead serious.

  “I’m clean. I was tested every two years. I’ve never had unprotected sex, and in case you’re wondering, I top. It’s been more than a year and a half since I’ve been with a man. And I spent several of the last nine months in the hospital and going through rehab, both of which gave me a chance to think about what the hell I wanted out of life.”

  “I’m clean, too,” I reassure him. My eyes roll down his body. “What happened?”

  He shifts his eyes away, but not before I see darkness shrouding them. The muscles in his jaw bunch, and his hands curl into fists. “A particularly bad day at the office. One I’m not ready to relive.”

  He turns to me again, and the pain in his eyes makes me want to take him in my arms and make him feel so good he forgets whatever it is that’s haunting him. But somehow I know that’s what I would need, not what he needs. He needs walls. That doesn’t bode well for me and my poor choices in men, but there’s so much about Alex that I’m attracted to, I don’t want to pull back or close myself off. I want to know more about him, and if he’s really here to stay, we have nothing but time.

  “And during all that time of introspection? What’d you come up with?” I ask, letting him know he’s off the hook about whatever happened that landed him in the hospital.

  “Tristan, I’m almost thirty years old. I’m not a kid looking to get my rocks off, no matter how badly I might need it at the moment. What I want hasn’t changed since before the military. I want to start my business, have stability, and be with a guy who respects the same things I do. Family. Loyalty. Honesty. I want to finally live life on my terms. A life I can be proud of. I’m proud of my career in the military, but I spent those years lying for everyone else’s benefit. Hell, I was lying for myself, too.”

  I search his face, trying to figure out if I’m being played. Everything he said seems too tailored to what I crave, and need, in my life. But my heart tells me I can trust him.

  “I’ve got baggage, T. A lot of it. I’m angry for having to lie about who I was, and at the same time, I’m proud of what I’ve done for our country. But it cost me in so many ways. I carry a lot of guilt and anger about it. I might never be an open book, but I’m not an asshole, either.”

  I don’t know how to do anything other than be who I am, and I’m realizing that Alex has never had that chance. As he takes my hand, I don’t want to turn him away, but I don’t want to be a fool, either.

  “Alex, I know who I am, and I’ve been down this road too many times before with guys who are just starting to figure themselves out,” I finally manage. “It never ends well for me.”

  Alex

  I’VE JUST REVEALED so much of myself, I feel like I’m standing naked before Tristan, but there’s not an ounce of judgment in his eyes. There’s no room for it with the desire and hesitation warring for residence. I can’t resist the urge to move closer, hoping to end his fence sitting.

  “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve known exactly what I wanted. Working with my hands and creating things as I feel them and joining the military. I knew I wanted both. I knew they were the right things for me at the time. Coming to Harborside was hard as hell, and facing my demons will be even harder. But I want to be here, and not just because my grandmother wanted it for me, but because in all her letters, and every time we talked on the phone, I heard a calling. And now. This. You and me, T. I want this. For the first time in my life, I went looking, and I found you.”

  His fingers close around mine. His hand is strong, his palm is hot, and as a gust of wind blasts up the rocks, my body sizzles against its chill.

  “I can’t imagine not kissing you again,” I tell him, because honesty is what we both need. “And I’m not willing to walk away because you’re scared. I’ve spent the better part of the last decade facing death. My fears were about ending up six feet under—yours are about feeling like you’re six feet under because you’re wading through the aftermath of guys like your exes.”

  I have to touch him. Have to let him know he can count on my strength, rely on my word. My hand moves to his jaw, as it has done so many times over the course of the evening. It feels like it belongs there.

  “You have no reason to believe me, but I’m not going to screw you over, Tristan. That’s not who I am.”

  His head turns slightly, pressing his scruff into my palm, and I know he wants this, too.

  “And in a week?” he asks. “After we’ve fucked like rabbits, and you’re ready for the next best thing? This is the first time since you joined the military you’ve been able to openly explore your sexuality. And Harborside is a great place to do it.”

  “I can’t promise you forever. I know better than anyone our lives can change in the blink of an eye, but I can promise you that I’m not made of cheating cloth. I’m as loyal as the ocean is deep. And sure, you might decide I’m too broken for you or that my demons run too deep. Or I might decide you’re too…” I shake my head, because I can’t think of a damn thing that could turn me off to this sexy, honest man.

  “Aw, hell, T. I could decide you’re too good for me. As screwed up or corny as it sounds, I was jealous of the people in the Taproom before we even spoke. Now that I know you? Now that I’ve listened to you lay out your fears and know what it cost you to do so?” I pull him closer. “Now that I’ve tasted you? The thought of any other man’s mouth on yours makes me want to beat someone to a pulp. I’ve never felt that before.”

  The sounds of our heavy breaths drown out the waves crashing against the shore.

  “You’re the next best thing, Tristan. How can you not know that about yourself?”

  “Fuck,” he growls, and captures my mouth, kissing me like he’s been starved for me.

  I take control, kissing him harder, because I am starved for him. Our bodies collide as we fall to the sand. My thigh traps him below me. My hands play over every inch of him—his muscular chest, his abs, and the hard heat pulsing between us. He rocks against my hand, and I want to taste him so desperately, I claw his shirt up, reluctantly breaking our kiss to pull it over his head. He’s so fucking gorgeous I can’t stop a greedy moan from escaping my lungs.

  “Fuck, T. I don’t know where to start.”

  Before he responds, I kiss him again, my hands cupping his strong jaw, feeling the need in his powerful kiss, in every stroke of his tongue. I bite his lower lip, kiss the hard line of his jaw, and sink my teeth into his neck so hard his nails dig into the backs of my arms.

  “Christ,” he swears.

  He grabs my head, keeping me against his salty, hot skin.

  I grab his hands and force them down to the sand beside his head. “It’s not enough.”

  I don’t give him a chance to deny me, and move down his body, kissing and nipping as my hands squeeze and rub, memorizing every hard plane. I suck his nipple into my mouth and groan as it pebbles against my tongue. His hips piston off the ground, and the moan it elicits is nothing short of erotic. I rock my cock against him and follow the divot between his abs to the button on his jeans. As I grip it between my teeth, a voice in my head whispers, He needs slow. I need slow. I lift my eyes, and the lethal look in his is all the green light I need to tug that button free and crank his jeans down his thighs, freeing his formidable erection. I’m like a kid in a candy store, wanting to taste every part of him at once and wanting to give him so much pleasure, he’ll forget Ian altogether. As I reach for his cock, cool air rolls over my hands, and I remember we’re still outside. We’re on a dune and the lights are off. I’m fairly certain no one can see us, but my mind races to Tristan. He needs to trust me. He needs to know I care.

  “T,” I pant out. “Should we take this inside?”

  He looks around an
d says, “Fuck no. Not yet.”

  I press a kiss beside his cock as I take him in my hand and give one tight stroke. He moans and his hands fist beside him. I slick my tongue along his hard length and his hips buck, but I’m not going there yet. No, this is half the fun. I want to see this beautiful man begging for my mouth. I run my hands down his muscular thighs as I lick his sac, feeling it tighten with need. I seal my lips over his inner thigh, pressing my fingers into his rigid muscles. My teeth graze along his sensitive skin, until I get so close to his balls I know he feels my breath on the wetness I’ve left there. He curses under his breath, and I lavish the other thigh with the same sensual attention. His cock bobs when I drag my tongue up his inner thigh.

  “Alex—” he pleads. “Suck me.”

  I spent so many years taking commands, it’s second nature to follow his demand. I wrap my fingers around his shaft, lower my mouth to the broad head, and pause. I’m not in the military anymore. I swirl my tongue over his most sensitive glans, and as I slide my tongue over the glistening bead at the tip, I get my first taste of his essence.

  “Damn, you’re sweet, T.”

  I lick under the ridge of the crown and make my way south, along the thick vein down the center, around the sides. His cock pulses against my tongue, and when I wrap my hand around him, he jerks through my fist. I’m so hard I can barely stand it, and grind against his legs. The heat of his gaze bores into me like a laser, and when I lift my eyes, the look in his is raw and wicked, spurring me on. I lower my mouth over his thick shaft, and his eyes flutter closed. He strains to keep them open as I work him with my hand and mouth. He pushes himself upright, flexing all those glorious muscles as he grabs my head, guiding me to the speed he needs. I want to strip off my jeans and fist my cock as I suck him—or even better, I want him to do it, but it’s too complicated of a position for where we are. And seeing his eyes turn coal black, watching his abs flex, and feeling his strong hands on my jaw is too fucking hot to miss for even a second. I cup his balls and tug gently, and his whole body goes rigid. His hands have been tight on my head, guiding, driving, taking whatever I’ll give, demanding it, but now they slide gently to the contours of my jaw.