Crash Into Me

by K. M. Scott

  Thrilled, I nodded excitedly and watched him walk off toward the area of the house he lived in. I waited impatiently, shifting my weight from side to side as he was gone a minute and then five. Finally, he returned with two silver pins that would definitely work.

  He handed them to me with a slight bow. "I think these may do the job, miss."

  Grabbing them, I turned to race back to the bathroom but turned back as I hit the hallway outside the kitchen. "Thank you, Rogers! You're the best."

  The butler nodded and bowed again, deeper this time. "You're most welcome, miss."

  The hair pins did the trick and within fifteen minutes I'd transformed myself into a sexy temptress with a gorgeous upswept hairdo and smoky eyes that were all the rage in magazines. Tugging a small clump of hair near each temple out of the pins' hold, I looked in the mirror, pleased with my efforts. I may not look exactly like those actresses Tristan usually had on his arm, but I was sporting a rather sophisticated look, if I did say so myself.

  I heard him call my name and found him and a man who I assumed was Angelo in the foyer near the front door. His shopper was thin, immaculately dressed, and expressive, to say the least. He held five dresses in his hand out to the side and almost above his head—all formal gowns that I was sure would look stunning, even on me.

  "Mr. Stone, I have five dresses in exactly the young lady's size. Which do you prefer?" he asked with a flourish of his free hand.

  "Angelo, I think it would be better to ask the young lady. I pay you to shop for me for a reason."

  The man feigned a bow. "As you wish. Miss, which would you like to begin with?"

  I turned toward Tristan. "Do we have time for me to try on more than one?"

  My question seemed to amuse him. Smiling, he said, "We have as much time as you need. We'll arrive when you're satisfied with the dress. And if you don't like any of these, I'm sure Angelo has more just outside."

  I saw a pained look cross Angelo's face telling me he'd brought no more than what he held in his hand. Stepping toward them, I looked through them quickly and picked a black strapless one with a slight bustle in the back. "Let's try this one, Angelo," I said with a smile, hoping he'd see I didn't want to make this job as difficult as Tristan seemed to.

  "Black it is, miss."

  I tried to take the dress from him, but Tristan ordered him to follow me back to the bedroom with the dresses. Walking back to our room, I heard him attempt to make small talk with Tristan, with little success. As I entered the bedroom, I turned and took the dress from him.

  "We'll be out here waiting, Nina," Tristan said with a wink as I closed the door to the dressing room and bathroom.

  I soon found that Angelo was just as good with formal wear as he was with my work clothes. The dress fit flawlessly in all the right spots, accentuating my figure and hiding those areas that I'd always stressed over. My breasts looked perfect, and as I twirled around in front of the mirror, I saw the bustle made my behind look incredible.

  Looking down at my bare feet, I suddenly realized I didn't have shoes. I flung open the door and before either man could say a thing, exclaimed, "I have no shoes! I can't go without shoes!"

  A pair of gold strap stilettos hung from Angelo's hand as he stared at me with a look that screamed he found me silly. "At your service, miss."

  Trudging over to him, I took the shoes and slid them on. Just as he'd succeeded with the dress, the shoes were a perfect fit. I wanted to ask how he knew my size, but I figured it wasn't something worth knowing.

  I held my arms out and modeled the dress and shoes for Tristan. "Well? How's it look?"

  Tristan's expression was serious, and he folded his arms. "Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous."

  I beamed at his compliment, agreeing wholeheartedly with his assessment. Turning toward Angelo, he said, "I'll leave Miss Edwards with you for anything else she may need." He looked over at me and smiled. "I have to get dressed, but I'll be back in a few minutes. Whatever you need, tell Angelo and he'll see to it."

  He left and Angelo produced a gold choker necklace with diamonds. It looked dazzling merely sitting in his hand. "If you will allow me, miss."

  I turned around and he clasped it closed around my neck. Looking down, I ran my fingertips over the necklace, loving the feel of it against my skin. Spinning around to face him, I said, "I love it, Angelo. You have the most wonderful taste!"

  "Thank you, miss."

  "And not just with my clothes. I love the way you dress Tristan also."

  Angelo's demeanor changed ever so slightly and he gave me a genuine smile that made him look almost friendly. "Thank you, miss. If I do say so myself, you look beautiful."

  "She does."

  Tristan stood leaning against the doorframe dressed in his black tux and looking so incredible I wasn't able to formulate coherent words for a moment. Somehow, that night his tux looked so much better than it ever had in pictures or all those times he'd gone somewhere in it without me. His dark brown hair just barely hit the collar of his stark white shirt and his jacket fit perfectly. Peaking out from beneath it near his wrists were gold and onyx cuff links that seemed to go with my necklace perfectly.

  "Thank you, Angelo. You've done a wonderful job. Have a good night."

  Tristan's not-so-subtle dismissal of the man made me feel uncomfortable, but Angelo left without another word, and I got the sense that this was how their relationship worked.

  "You look incredible, Nina. I want you to remember this whenever you think that you're anything less than anyone. If I wouldn't catch hell from the board, I'd close this door and make love to you for hours like every ounce of me wants to."

  I walked over to him and adjusted his bow tie. "After all the work Angelo and I did to get me looking like this?" I teased.

  He cupped my nape and pressed his mouth to mine in a hard, passionate kiss that almost took my breath away. My legs felt weak when he snaked his tongue inside my mouth and teased me with the tip of it. He looked so stunning and smelled so good that if he'd told me to strip and tear the pins out of my hair, I would have done so without even a whimper of protest.

  Pulling away, he ran the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. "You're right. But tonight when we get home, I'm going to give your pussy what I just gave your mouth. And that's just for starters."

  He took my hand and kissed it as he led me toward the car that waited outside. Instead of the usual Town Car or his Jag, we were taken into the city in a stretch Rolls Royce that made the drive feel like we were floating on a cloud. Settled into the leather seats, we talked about the release party and I found out Blake had been given a new job doing work on the rooftop landscaping at Tristan's hotel in the city. And even though I'd wanted Kacey left where she was, within a few days of the Executive Homes shoot and interview at the house she was to be reassigned to the Miami hotel and put in charge of concierge there. I couldn't say I was unhappy, but when Tristan mentioned that her first assignment in her new job was to oversee the placement of my choice of artwork for the Miami suite, I secretly jumped for joy—on the inside, of course.

  The whole Blake-Kacey Incident, as I secretly referred to it, had taught me a good lesson. A little jealousy was fine. A lot and it spilled out all over the place and could ruin even the best relationship.

  Tristan's hand traced figure eights on my thigh as we traveled down the highway toward the biggest and most prestigious party I'd ever even been invited to, but I wasn't self-conscious or nervous anymore. With every adoring look he gave me, I felt more confident and beautiful than ever before. By the time we arrived, I felt as good on the inside as I looked on the outside.

  Jenson pulled up in front of the Richmont hotel and came around to my side to let us out. Quietly, Tristan whispered in my ear as I stepped my foot out onto the street, "Don't ever forget how much I love you, Nina."

  Lights flashed all around me before I even could straighten myself and step onto the sidewalk. Thankfully, Tristan was quick to join me and took my arm to guid
e me into the hotel, poised and cool as if this was second nature to him. Men and women yelled his name and barked out requests to look this way and that way, but he ignored them and held my arm tightly as we walked the red carpet, a private couple no more.

  We entered through the glass front doors and the interior of the Richmont hotel nearly overwhelmed me. An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the three story ceiling, reflecting the hundreds of tiny lights that adorned virtually every surface of the lobby. I looked up to take it all in, and in my awe, almost tripped. Tristan steadied me and leaned in to whisper, "Remember, you're marrying the man who owns this. You belong here."

  Crowds of people mingled as a string quartet played gentle music meant to provide a background but not disturb the festivities. As Tristan introduced me to members of Stone Worldwide's board and other people he quietly referred to as "people he found worthy of his time and mine," I relaxed into my role as his date and actually enjoyed myself. The author was a quiet woman who seemed out of place at her own event, but I was able to get her to laugh at a story I told when it was just Tristan and the two of us, and by the time the night had ended, I could honestly say I'd had a good time.

  Even more, I could say that Tristan had. As he socialized with the guests, I heard the same whispers over and over. Women and men leaned over to those people next to them and quietly noted, "I've never seen Tristan Stone smile like that." And that was followed by the words, "Is that an engagement ring on her finger?"

  That he'd smiled because I was on his arm meant the world to me. I may not have been from his social circle, but I'd been able to make him happy. Me. No one asked if I was his fiancée, but it didn't matter. It was enough to know that for the first time, his picture on Page Six would be of the man I knew with me by his side.

  By the time we sat down in the back of the car, I was so wound up I wouldn't have been able to sleep even if I had to. I felt like a girl after her first school dance who wanted to talk about everyone she'd seen and everything she'd done. As I chattered on about dresses and drinks and the best tasting hors d'oeuvres, Tristan merely sat back against the leather seats and listened. We were out of the city by the time I'd realized I'd done nothing but talk for miles.

  Shifting in my seat, I played with the end of his undone tie. "I'm sorry. I've been so busy talking, I haven't given you a chance to get a word in edgewise."

  "Don't stop. I love listening to you when you're happy like this," he said quietly.

  "Well, did you have a good time?" I asked, secretly hoping he did. I wanted this to be something I could believe I made better for him.

  He thought about it for a moment and turned his head to look at me. "Yes. For the first time, I can say I did."

  Happy to hear those words, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "That means a lot to me that you said that."

  Tristan caught my face as I moved to lean back against the seat and kissed me like he had in our bedroom hours earlier. My stomach did a flip and that tiny tug in the pit of my abdomen appeared as he pulled the pins from my hair.

  "I want you. Here. Take the dress off," he ordered as he unzipped it and began pushing the fabric from my body.

  I protested, if only meekly, "Tristan, Jenson's going to know what we're doing back here."

  With my dress in a heap on the floor, he cupped my breast and sucked the nipple hard into his mouth. Looking up at me, he flicked his tongue over the peaked tip and said in a husky voice, "I don't care. He can't see anything, and even if he can, I don't fucking care. I want you now."

  He slid my panties off and pulled me onto his lap to straddle him. I felt the hardness between his legs as he lifted his hips off the seat and pushed his cock through my drenched folds. Desperate to feel his body on mine, I undid his pants and zipper and freed his stiff cock. He was so long and thick in my hands, and I stroked the full length of him, loving how my touch affected him.

  "God, I want to be inside you," he whispered hoarsely as he slid the head of his cock toward my opening. "I want to feel your tight cunt around my cock as you ride me right here, Nina. Ride me."

  He eased into me in one slow push, filling me completely before he began guiding my hips up and down on him. The threat of his driver seeing us thrilled me, and I rode his cock with abandon, loving each time he rammed it inside me. His hands controlled my body's movements, and his mouth sent waves of delight racing through me as his teeth nipped at my breasts. The mixture of the pleasure he gave me with his cock and the pain from his passionate biting was almost more than I could take. I begged him to let me go longer, but that only made him fuck me harder so that I came within minutes of him entering me. Buried balls deep in me, he continued to thrust through my orgasm, wanting release of his own.

  My body still quivered from coming, but I wanted him to feel as good as he'd done for me, so I returned to riding his cock quickly. His dark gaze as he stared up at me told me he was getting close, so I rolled my hips with each push down on him, grazing the most sensitive part of his cock with my G spot. He came with a force so powerful I felt like I would drown with each blast inside me. Just then, my own release roared through me for a second time, and I cried out as he pulled my hair sharply to bring my mouth to his as he buried his cock inside my body.

  Tristan panted near my cheek as his release slowly subsided, and I looked down to see him touching a reddish mark just above my right breast. He tenderly pressed his lips against my skin where he'd bit me and whispered, "Mine."

  "I guess I've been marked," I said as I ran my fingers through his sweat dampened hair.

  "I want every man who sees you to know you're mine, Nina. I want them to know even if you were covered head to toe that underneath you bear my mark. That as much as I'm yours, you're mine and mine alone."

  Pressing my lips to his forehead, I leaned against him as he held me. "Always."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I'd had one of the best nights of my life, and as much as I didn't want it to end, by the time we returned home, I was exhausted. I was spared the embarrassment of having to face Jenson as we left the car since the driver disappeared almost as soon as he turned off the car. The thought that he'd seen this with Tristan before crossed my mind, but I quickly pushed it away with a gentle reminder to myself that I didn't need to doubt how much he loved me and a not-so-gentle reminder to not screw up the great thing we had with my irrational jealousy.

  We'd made a mess of each other in the car, so we took a quick shower. As I toweled myself dry, I heard Tristan's phone vibrate on the nightstand and saw his expression instantly turn serious. As if on cue, he picked it up and walked out of the bedroom to answer it.

  Curiosity about who was calling and what they said to him to change his mood so drastically played on my mind, and after five minutes of obsessing over it, I made a conscious choice to get into my shorts and t-shirt and distract myself with the mail I'd gotten from Jordan's that day. Junk mail I quickly tore up and a letter from my university about alumni dues took up a few minutes, thankfully taking my mind off what Tristan could be talking about outside.

  At the bottom of the pile I found two letters like the one I'd lost that day when Mrs. Phillips' grandson jumped me. Neither had a return address, but they were both addressed to me at the apartment. The envelope of the first one looked like the mailman had dragged it along the street before delivering it to Jordan's mailbox. It was filthy, stained from dirt and what looked like coffee. As I struggled to make out when it had been mailed, I saw the postmark said July 9 and the letter was sent from a post office on the Lower East Side. Turning it over, I saw the hint of a shoe print on the outer edge too.

  This letter has been on quite a trip.

  I slid my finger under the flap and ripped open the top of the envelope to find the letter inside was in no better shape. Stained from coffee and dirt, it was unreadable, except for one line at the bottom that read in part, "Don't ignore this warning..." I strained to understand the words that came after, but the abuse th
e letter had endured made it impossible to figure out its meaning through the smeared ink.

  Turning the envelope and letter over, I saw nothing more. Sure it was a debt collection letter for some bill I'd forgotten, I dismissed the piece of mail and threw it all in the garbage, along with the alumni and junk mail.

  The last envelope in the pile sat waiting for me. I picked it up and examined it, noticing it had the same handwritten address and post office mark on the front of the envelope, but it had been mailed only the day before. At least the mailman hadn't put this one through the wringer. Tearing it open, I unfolded the letter inside and began reading.

  The words swam in front of my eyes. Your father. They got away with murder. Ask Tristan. He knows who's responsible. My hands began to tremble violently, and I threw the paper away from me. Shaking my head in disbelief, I struggled to hold back the tears.

  It wasn't possible. There was no way Tristan was involved in my father's murder. He couldn't be. He didn't even know him.

  As I repeated those words again and again in my head, I realized I couldn't be sure he hadn't known him. I knew very little about Tristan before just a few months ago. What if the person who'd written this letter was right?

  My head felt like it was beginning to spin, like everything around me was spiraling out of control. My mind raced to find any sign that the accusation made in the letter was correct. Every word he'd said suddenly became suspect, every action confirmation of his guilt.

  My stomach tied itself into knots as every moment we'd spent together played out in my mind. Why had he wanted someone like me in the first place? Why had he pushed for me to live here with him? Did the phone calls he'd begun receiving right around the time I should have received the first letter have anything to do with this? I didn't want to believe I was in danger, but for the first time since I'd met Tristan, I was truly frightened.

  "Where were we?"

  I looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, a look of concern of his face like he always had after taking one of those phone calls. But now he looked different. Foreign.