After the Storm

by Katy Ames

  “I said,” Tristan teased, his smile still bright, “good. ’Cause I want us to be dating too.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek and Tessa held his hand a little tighter, floored by how good those curved lips felt against her skin. “Now feed me. I’m starving.” That smile turned mercurial. “Unless”—he caught her jaw with his tongue—“you want to skip the food and move on to eating other things….”

  That time, Tessa’s knees actually wobbled. She couldn’t keep up with this smiling, teasing version of Tristan. Her mind was completely scattered and the rest of her body, well, it was already clamoring with a different type of hunger. One that she wasn’t ready to satisfy just yet.

  “Dinner first,” she managed. “The rest, after.”

  “Humph,” he said, but didn’t protest when she pointed to the table.

  Minutes later Tessa returned with two steaming plates of food.

  “Mac and cheese?” Tristan looked at it, then back at her, skeptical.

  “It’s the perfect comfort food. And after the past few days, well”—Tessa shrugged—“I had a craving.” She blew on her fork before popping some into her mouth. “What?” Tristan was still staring at her.

  “Just,” he finally answered, “not what I was expecting.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.”

  “No, no.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I love mac and cheese. I mean, who doesn’t? Carbs and gooey cheese, both in one place.”

  “People who are gluten- and lactose-intolerant?” Tessa sassed back.

  Tristan laughed. “Yes, fair point. It’s just not what I was expecting. That’s all.”

  “Maybe you should stop thinking so hard and eat.”

  She kept her attention on her own plate as Tristan dug in. She wouldn’t watch him chew. That would only give it away.

  “Tessa?” Tristan dipped her name, the “a” rising in a question.

  “Yes?”

  “What’s the crunchy thing?”

  “You mean the bacon?”

  “No.” Tristan poked at the golden topping, picking at the slightly translucent bits. “I mean these.” He held out a forkful of the offending food.

  “Shallots.”

  “Onions.”

  “No, shallots.”

  “They taste like onions.”

  “They taste delicious. And they’re even better fried and crispy, which is exactly how you’re eating them.”

  “You are a sneaky little thing, aren’t you?”

  Tessa tried to grin, but her mouth didn’t cooperate. Her conversation with Grace flickered through her head. It was true. She was sneaky. Even when she didn’t want to be. “Just try them. They won’t hurt you. I fried them in bacon fat and sprinkled them on the top. Along with bacon and a little goat cheese. It works, I promise.”

  Tristan scooped up a larger forkful and chewed slowly. “Sweet and salty,” he said as he finished.

  “Exactly. See, you’re learning.” This time Tessa’s smile stuck.

  “It seems,” Tristan murmured, his eyes on her face as he took another bite, “that I am.”

  The little subterfuge forgotten, they fell into easy conversation. Tristan confirmed that the resort hadn’t experienced any major damage from the hurricane. The same went for the surrounding houses. He was going to pay Jo a visit in the morning, just to make sure the cafe came through unscathed.

  Tessa mentioned that she’d spoken with Grace.

  “Yeah, I talked to Mark as well,” Tristan chimed in. “They’ll be back in two days. It’ll be good to see them.”

  “You’ve missed them,” she stated, leaning back as she pushed her empty plate away.

  “I have.” Tristan looked surprised by his own confession. His hand slipped to the back of his neck. Tessa’s stomach shifted against the weight of her dinner. She knew exactly how rough the skin there felt. “I, uh, guess it’s something I’m getting used to.”

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Tessa nodded in the direction of his neck. Tristan dropped his hand immediately. He shifted in his chair and Tessa held her breath, waiting to see if he’d run for the door.

  “No,” he answered slowly. His eyes were fastened on the grain of the wooden table. “I don’t. Not yet.”

  “But eventually?” she prompted.

  “But eventually. Yes.”

  Tessa bit the inside of her cheek. The maelstrom of emotions on Tristan’s face was unsettling to watch. Anger, despair, loneliness, sadness, resignation. One passed over his face, followed fast by another. No wonder he blocked them out, Tessa thought. No wonder he sought solace in the water. She couldn’t imagine what it felt like to live, day after day, with all that bottled up inside. She was slowly starting to understand why he walled it all up. But she could also see where the cracks were forming, fine and susceptible to impact.

  “Hey.” Tessa covered his hand on the table. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll be here to listen. It doesn’t have to be now. It doesn’t have to be soon. Eventually is just fine with me.”

  “Yeah?”

  God, what she’d give to have him always look at her like that. With hope. “Absolutely.”

  Tristan looked down at where her fingers rested on his. He flipped his hand over so they were palm to palm, his rough calluses abrading her softer skin. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ve been wondering about something.”

  “What’s that?” Tessa’s pulse fluttered when she saw all of his previous emotions vanish behind one: carnal desire. And it was entirely focused on her.

  “I know what you taste like here.” He ran his thumb across the center of her palm. “And here.” He tapped her lips with one finger from his other hand. “And I know what you taste like here.” Tristan trailed that finger down her throat, coming to a stop at the delicate dip at the base.

  Tessa’s blood pounded under the pressure.

  “And here,” he continued, trailing lower until he hit the neckline of her dress. Tessa couldn’t hold back a shiver as he slowly followed it to the shadowed hollow between her breasts. Tristan dipped that single finger into her cleavage. Tessa watched, fixated. That movement, in, then out: it was an explicit echo of the way their bodies would join together lower down.

  Tessa’s nipples hardened. Tristan shifted in his chair, the rise of his cock obvious between his strong thighs.

  She swallowed a gasp when his finger jumped to one nipple, lightly tracing the peak through the thin fabric of her dress.

  “And these,” Tristan continued. “I know what these taste like. So sweet, so hot. The perfect mouthful.”

  Tessa swayed in her seat, seeking the heat of Tristan’s hand, missing it when he dropped lower.

  “And here.” His forefinger found and traced her belly button, snagging slightly on the delicate cloth. “I know what you taste like here. Soft and yielding.”

  Tristan’s eyes met hers, and Tessa’s mouth went dry. He didn’t look away as he slid his hand lower, his palm resting on the crease where her left thigh met her torso. His fingers skimmed just above the juncture between her legs. “But here,” he rasped. “I don’t know what you taste like here. And I want to, Tessa. So fucking badly. More than I need air in my lungs or want the seawater against my skin. More”—his voice fell to a desperate groan—“than I’ve wanted anything in a very, very long time.”

  Tessa’s tongue felt heavy as she brushed it along her bottom lip. Tristan tracked the movement, his lids drooping, his fingers flexing against her thigh.

  “I’ve dreamed about it all day. No. Longer than that. Since the first time I tasted your skin, that night in the kitchen. I don’t crave anything, Tessa. Nothing in this goddamn world.” Tristan hovered on the edge of his seat, his eyes glowing, almost wild. “I’ve known for so fucking long that wanting something, anything, was pointless. I’ve learned to live without desire, without need. Without the feel of another heartbeat
next to mine. But I can’t—” His voice broke. “It doesn’t work. Not like that, not with you.”

  Tessa’s heart pounded. She grabbed his wrist where his hand pressed against her leg. He was warm and solid beneath her fingers. Tristan moved another inch closer, his breath tantalizing against her lips.

  “Let me have you,” he whispered. “I can survive a lot. I have survived a lot. But I don’t think I can survive another second without tasting you.”

  Tessa nodded. It was pure instinct, coherent thought gone. She just wanted Tristan. His mouth, his touch, his body. His heart, her soul whispered. A dangerous request she silenced the only way she knew how.

  “Yes. For the love of God, Tristan. Yes.”

  Slowly, carefully, Tristan slipped from her grasp. Tessa was in a daze as he dropped to kneel in front of her. He pulled her chair from the table so she faced him.

  Tristan’s hands trembled slightly as he took hers and pressed them to the edge of her wooden chair. “Don’t let go.”

  It never even crossed her mind. Tristan settled back on his heels and placed one hand on each of her knees. He raked Tessa’s face, his chest expanding as he took in her heavy eyes, her flushed cheeks, her damp lips. Then lower. The rapid pulse in her throat. Her hard nipples where they protested against her dress. The secret, sweet space between her thighs that he revealed slowly, pressing Tessa’s knees apart with his huge hands.

  “Tessa Armstrong.” Tristan glanced back up, his eyes dilated and darker than she’d ever seen them. “Of everything I’ve survived, nothing has brought me to my knees. Nothing and no one. Until you.”

  The last word faded as Tristan put his lips to one leg, kissing and nipping as he pushed his hands higher.

  Up, under the hem of her dress.

  His fingers went first, then his palms. Slowly, like he was smoothing out the finest silk and he didn’t want the threads to snag. Tessa shifted, her heart thudding in her ears.

  “Shhhhh.” Tristan stilled her, his thumbs skimming just below the line of her panties. He opened her legs wider, making a spot for himself between her thighs.

  God, as if staying quiet was possible. Tessa already felt a whimper pressing at the back of her throat. It built to an undeniable moan when Tristan traced her through the damp lace. The broad tip of his finger dipped between her concealed lips and she squeezed the edge of her chair.

  “Fuck, Tess. I love how ready you are for me.” Tristan kissed one knee, then the other, before gripping the sides of her panties. “Up,” he instructed, waiting till Tessa lifted off the chair enough for him to drag them free.

  “I wonder,” he rumbled, “if you taste as sweet as you smell.”

  “Jesus.” Tessa’s head tipped back when Tristan hooked one leg over his shoulder. Her hips tilted upwards at the same time and she heard Tristan’s groan of approval.

  He leaned closer, his broad shoulders keeping her spread wide. He had to shift his own legs to accommodate the chair and he placed her other bare foot flat on his thigh. Tessa dug her toes into his thick muscle.

  “Ah, my sweet, sweet Tess.” Tristan pushed her dress all the way up, exposing her naked core. His hands rested there, his thumbs feather light in the dip at the top of her thighs.

  Tessa shivered when the cooler air hit that hot, wet space, her need amplified by the absence of any sort of friction. She was spread wide, open, laid bare, and her muscles fluttered in anticipation.

  “Tessa.”

  The dark energy in Tristan’s voice had her heel digging into his back. He still wasn’t touching her, not where she needed him to. Tessa dropped her gaze to his face, about to demand that he get the fuck on with it. But she stopped when she met his eyes.

  “Watch,” he ordered. “I want you to watch me taste you.”

  Tessa could barely nod. But she did as he demanded, her eyes getting impossibly wide as he leaned forward and traced the inner slope of her thigh with his nose. Tristan’s thumbs dropped lower, parting her folds. Tessa watched Tristan’s face harden, lust and hunger threatening the integrity of his jaw.

  “You are so fucking gorgeous, Tessa. So fucking wet. And I am so fucking hungry.”

  Tessa felt like she was floating, hovering just outside her body, hypnotized as she watched Tristan pull her scent deep into his lungs and lean forward, so fucking slowly, before his tongue skimmed her throbbing clit.

  At that first touch she slammed back down to earth. Her lungs collapsed and her palms throbbed where she gripped the chair, the bandaged cut a distant memory.

  Tristan dropped lower, running his tongue through her, back to front, a slick liquid sound filling the room.

  “Holy fucking Christ,” Tessa sobbed, her head falling back, mouth agape, as her heel kicked against his back.

  Tristan just held her harder. The tips of his fingers became Tessa’s anchors. With every lick, every suck, he was doing his best to break her apart. And he compounded the torture by holding her still, never giving her a reprieve from the mind-bending torment.

  Tristan dipped into her channel, and Tessa gave up. She dug her fingers into his hair, sobbing when he opened his mouth wider. Each stroke of his tongue became harder, more insistent.

  Tessa felt the first licks of her orgasm in her legs, short bursts of pleasure that spiked when Tristan grazed her clit with his teeth.

  “Ahhhhhh,” she whimpered, her hips rocking up on their own. He was still teasing her. “More, please.”

  He hummed against her center. The vibration sent a current up her spine. “More what?”

  Tessa groaned, her head rocking between her shoulders as she tried to find the right words. “Touch me, lick me. Harder.”

  “Anything for you, Tess.” Tristan dragged his tongue up between her folds, the stroke long and strong and exactly what she wanted.

  “Yes! Yes, like that. More.” Tessa could barely understand what she was saying, but it didn’t matter. Because Tristan did. And he gave her everything she needed.

  He drove two fingers into her tight sheath, his rhythm fast as he focused his mouth on her clit. Tessa writhed in the chair. Her ears filled with the whoosh of her blood as Tristan’s tongue and fingers worked her, fucked her and loved her with every dip and lick, press and pull.

  Tessa shook, her foot slipping up Tristan’s thigh as a wave of pleasure hit her hard. Tristan jerked beneath her when her toes brushed his erection where it was trapped beneath his pants.

  Tessa groaned. He was so big, so fucking hard. All for her. Because of her. She repeated the movement, her toes cresting over his thick head. Tristan growled around her clit. His wrist flicked faster, the sound of his fingers driving into her mixing with their gasps and groans.

  “Fuck, Tristan!” Tessa was losing control over her body. She was Tristan’s. His to do with as he pleased. His to break however he wanted.

  “Come, Tess,” he demanded against her wet, throbbing flesh. His cock jumped when she pushed against it. “Come with my mouth on you.”

  She was shaking so hard she didn’t know where the tremors started or ended. The shocks of pleasure came, one after the other, pushing her closer and closer to that vanishing point. With a growl, Tristan slipped one hand beneath her ass and lifted her up, his mouth crashing down at the same time.

  Tessa screamed. Tristan was in her, on her, everywhere around her. And it was exactly what she needed to fly over the edge.

  “Ahhhhhhggggg!” Tessa’s climax hit her hard and without mercy. Her legs spasmed against Tristan’s body, violent shudders locking her muscles as he kept feasting, relishing every new wave her body gave him.

  Tessa barely noticed Tristan surging up from the floor. She was a rag doll in his arms. Her legs swung across one arm, and her head lolled against his shoulder as he carried her to the bedroom.

  Reality only started to sink in when Tessa felt the pillows beneath her, and Tristan’s hands haul her dress over her head. The prick of need that he’d just satisfied came back with a vengeance when the cool air hit her nipp
les.

  Tessa opened her eyes. Tristan was staring down at her.

  He was naked, every beautiful inch of his skin bare. Goosebumps followed her gaze as she absorbed the sight of him. The muscles in his shoulders and upper arms flickered as he held himself still above her. The broad slopes of his pecs begged to be bitten; the small, hard nipples calling out to be licked.

  Tessa hovered her right hand above his skin, basking in the heat she could feel without even touching. Tristan swore, low and long, when she rubbed her fingers over the ridges of his abdomen, her nails biting slightly when she traced the grooves between each individual muscle.

  They both groaned when Tessa’s hand dropped to wrap around the base of his cock. Tristan’s eyes fluttered as Tessa slowly dragged her fingers up to his tip. She let his broad head lie there for a second before touching her thumb to his slit and smoothing the drop of liquid across the surface.

  Tessa hummed in carnal appreciation and Tristan’s hips kicked, needing so much more than her teasing.

  “Fuck, Tess. I need to be inside you. Right. Fucking. Now.”

  Tessa’s arousal was already running high. It kicked into overdrive at his raw honestly.

  “Condom?” Why didn’t I think to get condoms?!? Please, God, let him have brought condoms.

  Tessa practically screamed out a prayer when she saw Tristan ripping open a wrapper and sitting back on his heels. Tessa didn’t think she breathed for one second between him slipping on the condom and positioning himself between her thighs.

  Tristan hovered there, no part of him touching any part of her. Then he leaned down and kissed her. Long, slow, hard. They kissed with open mouths and a flurry of tongues. It was wet, messy, and exactly what Tessa wanted. Until it stopped being anywhere close to enough.

  “I need you,” she begged. “Inside me. Now. Tristan, please.” She arched her back, rubbing their chests together and his pulsing cock pushed into her stomach.

  Tristan moved just enough that he could reach down and guide his thick shaft to her entrance. He stopped, the broad crest resting against her clit.

  Tessa’s head rocked against the pillows at that first excruciating, explicit caress.