Their bad choices help me justify mine.
And what sort of bad choices are you making?
Hmm, I don’t know. Texting you?
She thinks I’m a bad choice. And she’s right. That’s exactly how she should think of me. This sort of thing gives me hope. Convincing me that hey, maybe I won’t hurt her. Because that’s the last thing I want to do. I’m not in this for the long run and she needs to realize that quick.
I can suggest a few more bad things we could do together.
I bet you could.
I could show you, too.
I’m sure. Are you going to try and give me the big D?
I burst out laughing. She will never let that go. What sucks is that line has worked. More than once.
Do you want the big D?
Not tonight.
My heart races at those two innocent words. They give me hope. Make me want to do something crazy.
I want to see you.
But it’s so late.
I don’t care. I’m coming over.
Tristan I don’t think so…
Yeah. I won’t try to give you the big D. We can just talk.
Talking gets us nowhere.
Okay fine we’ll make out. It’ll be awesome. See you in ten.
I leave the house before she can convince me to stay.
I toss another piece of bark at Alex’s bedroom window as hard as I can but it just pings against the glass and lands in the rosebushes. I knew I hated those stupid rosebushes for a reason the first time I saw them. And it’s not like I can throw rocks at her window. With my luck I’d probably break it and make her mad.
So I stick with the bark.
The nervous energy bubbling inside of me is making me agitated and I pace, telling myself I’m being stupid by trying to get her attention this way. I could just knock on the damn door. Walk inside, say hi to the guys, ignore the smirk on Kelli’s face that I know will be there and head to Alex’s bedroom.
But I don’t want them to know I’m here. I want this to be between us. Our little secret. Hell, I’m pretty sure Alex isn’t feeling me coming over here but I didn’t really give her a choice.
Typical behavior on my part, but I can’t help myself. I’ve been dying to see her all day.
All. Damn. Day.
Deciding to hell with it, I pelt her window with the bark I’ve been cradling in my palm. One piece after another, splat, splat, splat against the glass until finally she cracks open the blinds and there she is, illuminated by the light glowing behind her.
My heart lurches at first sight of her pretty, slightly scowling, totally confused face. I wave a finger at her, indicating she should open her window and she pulls the cord to lift the blinds, then pushes open the window.
“What are you doing?” she whispers as I approach.
“Coming to see you.” I stop just in front of the damn rosebush, suddenly feeling unsure. What if she tells me to leave?
“I do have a front door you know.” She rests her hands on the windowsill, looking cute as hell in a green long sleeved shirt that has a white dove in the center and says Old Navy 2010 in Christmas-y colored plaid across the top.
“Nice shirt,” I tell her.
She glances down. “I’ve had it since high school.”
“Ready for Christmas?”
A flicker of something unrecognizable shines in her gaze. “Not really. I hate the holidays.”
“You do?” I’m surprised. I thought most girls loved Christmas. Tinsel, sparkle, cute little Santas and presents—what more could they ask for?
“Yeah.” She considers me, tilting her head to the side. “I should tell you to go home.”
“Why?” Dread sinks like a stone in my gut.
“It’s late. I’m tired.” She runs a hand through her hair and yawns as if to make a point. “It’s cold out here.”
“No shit,” I mutter. I’m wearing my thickest pullover hoodie and sweats. It’s fucking freezing but I’m starting to realize I’ll do just about anything to see this girl.
Which is scary as hell.
“Aren’t you tired?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Cold?”
I nod.
“Come back tomorrow then. This is crazy.” She starts to close the window and I make like I’m going to push past the rosebush. I don’t care if those giant thorns that seem to glitter in the night scratch me up. I’m that determined to get in Alexandria’s bedroom. “What are you doing?” she asks incredulously.
“If you’re going to make me hack my way through this fucking rosebush to see you, I’ll do it,” I tell her.
“Tristan.”
“Alexandria.” I grin.
“Oh my God. Let me go unlock the door.”
“Don’t tell anyone I’m here,” I say immediately, stopping her in her tracks. “Do you have another door you can let me in through?”
She considers it. “There’s a weird door that leads to the backyard at the end of the hall.”
“Let me in that way.”
She smiles. “You’ll have to hop the fence.”
I lean back and consider it. It’s tall, at least six feet but shit. I’ve hopped a few fences in my life. “Meet you there in two minutes.”
“You’re insane.”
For you, I want to tell her but I keep my mouth shut. She shuts the window before I can say anything and the blinds drop with a loud thud. That’s my cue to head over to the fence, which I do, contemplating how I should attack it.
Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure there’s no one driving by before I make the leap. Hopefully a police car won’t drive by because right about now, I look like a prowler ready to break in.
Fuck. If she only knew the lengths I’ll go to spend just a few stolen minutes with her…
I haul my ass over the wobbly wooden fence, landing on the ground with a solid thump, jarring my knees. In another life—all through high school—I played football. I was decent, I enjoyed it but the main reason I played? The jocks got all the pussy. And man, did I get a lot of pussy back in the day.
My sneaking around is reminding me of those old days. When I would go see a girl in the middle of the night, slip into her room and make out with her on her bed for hours. Those had been good times—made especially good because we never got caught. I was a lucky son of a bitch.
Tonight, I’m hoping I’ll get lucky again.
The door swings open as I approach it and Alexandria is standing there, waving at me to get inside. I climb the steps and enter the warm house, her scent wrapping all around me, making me want to grab her, haul her in close and kiss her.
But I keep my hands to myself, watching as she quickly shuts the door, turns the lock and then indicates she wants me to follow her. I fall into step behind her, crowding her as we head toward her bedroom. I can’t resist—my hand goes to her waist and she lets me touch her, seems to pause so our bodies can bump against each other and I close my eyes, breathe in the delicious scent of her hair.
She smells so damn good. Feels even better.
We’re in her room in seconds and I pull her to me, kissing her briefly. Too brief.
“I shouldn’t have let you in,” she says, sounding breathless. She takes a step back and I let her go.
“Why?”
“I don’t need the distraction.”
I smile. Well, that’s a hopeful admission. “I’m a distraction?”
“Totally. You do realize I went on a date already tonight,” she says wryly.
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension. I can’t stand the thought that she was with Steven. The only reason I’m not punching holes into the walls is because of what she told me. “But you said you two decided to be friends.”
“We did.” She nods.
“And that he’s interested in Kelli?” Crazy.
“Yeah.”
“She’s also interested in him?”
“She is.”
; “Kinda like how I’m interested in you?”
“Exactly how are you interested in me, Tristan?” she asks.
“Let me show you.” I make like I’m going to grab her and she dodges out of my way, slipping past my fingers. “Come on.”
Alexandria shakes her head. “If you’re going to hang out with me tonight, you have to do it on my terms.”
“And what are your terms?”
“We’re going to watch Sex and the City and snuggle.” The way she says it is adorable.
“Really?”
She nods.
Okay. I’m down to snuggle. I’ve never done it before but for Alexandria, I’ll do anything to spend time with her. But Sex and the City? “You’re going to make me watch that chick show?”
“Yep.”
“It’s old.”
“It’s timeless.”
“They’re a bunch of old bags constantly fucking around.”
“They’re real women with a solid friendship looking for love in a heartless, cruel city,” she explains, sounding downright impassioned.
“You’re not going to give me a choice, are you?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head and waves a hand toward the bed. “Take it or leave it. Snuggle and SATC or you go.”
I kick off my shoes and shove them under a nearby chair, then pull off my hoodie. Alexandria stands in front of me as if she’s frozen, her lips parted, eyes wide. “What?” I ask after I toss my sweatshirt onto the chair.
She shakes her head, snapping her mouth shut. “Nothing. Let’s do this.” She goes to her bed, tosses a bunch of throw pillows on the floor tugs back the comforter, inviting me into her bed. Jesus, I feel like I’ve just won the biggest hand I’ve ever played.
And I’m going to savor every fucking second.
There is nothing better than witnessing Tristan undressing and making himself comfortable in my bedroom. Seriously, when he pulled off his sweatshirt and I caught a glimpse of his flat stomach when his T-shirt rode up? A fan-myself-moment for sure, everything I’ve got perking up and going on high alert. Then when he looked at me with confusion in his eyes and his hair a golden brown mess from pulling the hoodie over his head?
I died a little inside. I may be playing it cool and acting like I don’t care that he’s here but deep down my girl parts are squealing with anticipation.
He climbed into my bed like he belonged there and left me no choice but to do the same. By the time I’d nervously fixed my pillows and settled in, he already had my laptop in his hands and resting on his lap, frowning at the screen.
“You’re actually watching a DVD?” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I shrug. “They were my mom’s.”
A brow shoots up. “Were?”
I’m treading on unfamiliar ground here. I don’t want to talk about my parents. It’s embarrassing enough that people I grew up with know what they did. Even worse when I’m supposed to explain every little detail of my parents’ fall from grace to new people in my life.
So I keep my mouth shut.
“She didn’t want the set anymore so she gave it to me. I started watching it and got hooked.” I lean over to look at my menu options, eager to change the subject. “Season three is my current favorite.”
“What, the different seasons vie to be your favorite?” He looks over at me, the glow from my laptop illuminating his face and making him look extra pretty. It doesn’t hurt that I actually have this man in my bed.
In my bed. I can’t get over it.
“It depends on my mood, but seriously, this season is awesome. It taught me the term golden shower.” Tristan makes a face and I giggle. “The girls go to Los Angeles and have wild adventures. I learned about bad karma and what comes around, goes around. But my favorite episodes are when Carrie hooks up with Big even though he’s married.”
Tristan frowns. “Why is that?”
“Her struggle is so…real.” I don’t know how to describe it and I feel sort of dumb for advocating episodes that involve cheating. But my heart hurts for her every time I watch them. And when Charlotte catches the two of them walking down the street together, she’s so angry, and Carrie feels so guilty…
Lately I’ve been feeling like that. Struggling. Guilty. Conflicted. And most of those feelings have to deal with the man who’s sitting next to me. In my bed, might I remind you.
“It’s also the season that gave us funky spunk,” I blurt out.
Tristan’s head whips toward mine when I say that. “Excuse me?”
My cheeks go warm. “Samantha gives a blowjob to some guy—”
“That’s the slutty one, right?” he interrupts.
I send him a look. “She’s the more—adventurous one, yes—anyway when he, uh, comes in her mouth.” Yeah, describing this episode is way more embarrassing than I anticipated, especially with how closely he’s watching me. “It tastes awful. And so she says he has funky spunk.”
“I want to see this episode,” Tristan immediately says.
“I can just tell you about it,” I offer.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I need to see it. Come on, load it up.”
And this is how we end up watching the funky spunk episode together. There are all sorts of other things going on. Charlotte gets engaged, Carrie finds out that Big is getting a divorce and Miranda’s pissed at Steve but Tristan only perks up when Samantha appears on screen.
Of course. The various blowjob scenes and spunk talk are all kinds of awkward but he laughs in all the right places and so do I. I blush when we see the actor’s naked butt and can’t help but wonder if Tristan has a nice naked butt…
Which I’m sure he does. It’s good enough clothed. I can’t imagine seeing it naked.
“I’m reluctantly saying this,” he admits once the episode is over. “But that was hilarious.”
“Samantha is funny,” I agree.
“They’re all funny.” He turns to meet my gaze, his little smile, his nearness stealing my breath. “Let’s watch another one.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I think I want more Samantha.”
We binge on three more episodes, ones I chose that highlight Samantha’s sexual antics. The episode with the guy who has a huge penis is his favorite one of them all.
Figures.
“I can relate,” he says sleepily once the episode is over. His head sinks into the pile of pillows he’s laying on, his eyes at half-mast. “Not that you’d never know since you’ve never seen my big D.”
“Are you for real?” I mock glare at him and he chuckles.
“I can show you now if you want. Though you might want to do some intensive yoga and light up a joint so you can get good and relaxed first.” He lifts his brows. “Gotta prepare so you can take it deep.”
“Oh my God, shut up.” I make to shove him but he grabs my hand and rubs his palm against mine slowly, the slight friction seeming to cause sparks to light up between us. I watch breathlessly as he curls his fingers around mine, drawing his out before pressing them back in so that we’re holding hands, like kids.
But the way he touches me doesn’t feel kid-like. My skin buzzes where we connect, his deft fingers moving over mine lightly, making me shiver.
“I like your hands,” he admits, his voice low and sexy. “They’re so soft.”
His are not. They are just rough enough to feel manly and rugged and I like it. He’s still toying with my fingers, pulling our hands apart so he can flip mine over and examine my palm, tracing the lines there with his index finger. His touch is feather light. When I lift my head I find that he’s already watching me with those dark, turbulent eyes.
“I think you’ve converted me,” he whispers and I blink at him.
“Converted you to what?”
“Sex and the City.” He smiles and shifts so his head is closer to mine. “I’m a total fan.”
“You only watched four episodes,” I point out.
“I’ll watch more
. I’ll watch them all.” His smile grows. “That’ll give me a good excuse to come over here more often. Not that I need one.”
Arrogant Tristan is bad enough. Cute, sweet Tristan is ten times worse and I didn’t think that was possible. All I can do is stare at him in wonder, curious over what’s happening in that brain of his. What is he thinking? What is he doing? What are his motives?
I don’t know. I almost don’t want to know. I’d rather think he was into me and I’m into him and we’re just having a good time.
It’s simpler that way.
“You like coming over here to play video games with the guys?” I ask quietly.
He slowly shakes his head and comes even closer, readjusting himself so he’s lying on his side and I’m flat on my back, his head hovering over mine. I gaze up at him, trembling as I wait for him to make the next move. “I’m here for you.” He dips his head and brushes my mouth with his. More sparks fly. I’m surprised we haven’t set each other on fire yet. “The only reason I’ve ever come here is for you.”
There’s no more talking. The kiss is soft, an exploration, a question. I part my lips easily, inviting him in, eager to deepen the kiss. Our tongues circle and search, his arm stretches across my stomach, his hand resting lightly at my waist. I reach up to touch his face, skim my fingers over his cheek, trace the line of his firm jaw. His skin is warm, covered in scratchy stubble. I’ve never allowed myself to touch him like this before, not really. I always kept myself reined in, scared to want too much, to take too much.
But tonight, I want to take. Just a little. Just enough to satisfy my curiosity.
He breaks the kiss first and I open my eyes to find him watching me, his lips damp, his hair hanging over his forehead. He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. My cheek. My other cheek. My forehead. Tender, sweet kisses I would never associate with Tristan the player but I’m starting to think there’s more to him. A side he doesn’t show anyone. One I’d like to see more of.
“I should go,” he whispers against my cheek, his breath hot.
“Really?” I croak. I’m stunned. He’s going to…leave? Now? “You um, said we were going to make out.”
“If I keep this up it’ll be more than making out.” He rolls over so he’s flat on his back, resting his arms on his chest, hands linked, fingers laced together. “I’m trying to take it slow.”
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