The scent of her desire for me is intoxicating. The moonlight cascading through the window of the room puts her on display as her body arches and her muscles clench in response to my touch.
Faith’s hands are in my hair, tugging me up to her. “Oh God, Tristan…please.”
She’s begging, and it ignites the fire within me into a full-blown explosion. Her voice is hoarse with longing, and aching with need.
She’s feels just like I do, I think. She’s just as desperate for me as I am for her.
I position myself over her, pushing my cock against her entrance.
“Faith—”
She arches her hips up, pleading with me to thrust into her, and her silent plea halts any further words I might’ve said, instead causing a low growl to erupt from my throat. I sink into her, hard and fast, and she gasps.
We both need a second, for her to adjust to me and for me to calm myself the hell down because the heat of her body clenched tightly around me could easily make me come in seconds. I pull back, only to thrust into her again.
She cries out, “Tristan, oh God…”
The sight of her beneath me, taking everything I give her, and the moans and whimpers she makes as her hips arch up to meet mine with each hard thrust—I can barely handle it. Hell, I can barely handle her. It’s like her body is made for mine, and the delicious sound of my name on her lips drives me closer and closer to the edge.
I kiss her roughly, and the taste of her mouth, combined with the perfectly synced rhythm of our bodies and the yearning stare in her eyes—it does something to me.
There’s more than just sexual chemistry between us. Even if I tried to tell myself it was only about physical attraction before, back in the beginning, I can’t hide from the truth now.
“Oh…” Faith’s eyes squeeze shut, and I can feel her clenching agonizingly around me.
I don’t slow my thrusts. “Faith,” I demand. “Look at me. Let me see you.”
Sweat glistens on her forehead, but her hips still roll to meet each thrust, whimpering as she gives herself over to the sensual combination of pleasure and pain.
“Come for me, Faith.” It’s a demand, and I thrust into her faster and harder, not giving her another choice.
“Tristan!”
Her body shatters beneath me, her fingernails digging violently into the flesh of my shoulders. I suck in a breath at the sharp pain of it, but I don’t slow down, thrusting into her again and again as my own orgasm overtakes me.
Every muscle within Faith’s body contracts around me, and I can’t hold it back any longer.
“Faith!” I bellow out her name in desperation. Blindly, I find her hand fisted amidst the sheets, and I entwine my fingers with hers, holding on for dear life until I finally slow my hips. Exhausted, I lower myself onto the bed beside her.
“That was some going-away present.”
Faith’s words hit me, but they sound distant, and it takes me a minute to realize I’m dozing off. Stay awake, asshole. You’ve got too much to say.
“It wasn’t a going-away present.”
I turn my head sluggishly, and see her wince. Then, I realize how gruff I sounded. “What I mean is...shit, Faith, I—”
“I get it,” she says with a sad smile. “One more night together before I—”
“What? No.” I pull my tired body up into a sitting position, reaching out to pull her up with me. The covers fall, and Faith immediately pulls them up to cover her naked body. I sigh, knowing damn well I’m making a fucking mess of this already. “I’m not very good with words, in case you haven’t noticed.” I attempt a crooked smile, but she’s staring at me blankly. “This isn’t a going-away present, Faith,” I repeat. “It’s my way of asking you to stay.”
Her expression doesn’t change. “You want me to stay.”
“With me,” I add. “I don’t have any right to ask that of you, but damn it, Faith, I mean it. This thing between us...I want to find out where it leads.”
Finally, comprehension crosses her face. “I...I don’t even know what to say.”
Her broken speech is sending an alarm bell off in my brain, but I keep reminding myself that, up until now, she’s been resigned to the fact that she’s leaving. That I’ve just been playing games, enjoying what little time we have left together. “You don’t have to say anything except what you really feel, Faith.”
She lets out a slow breath. “You want to know how I really feel.”
“I want you to stop repeating what I say,” I chuckle uneasily. “What do you want, Faith?”
She stares at me for a long moment, unblinking. Then, she crawls forward, pressing her lips to mine again. “What I want is a replay of tonight, every night, for the rest of our days.”
I’d been so damn nervous, knotted up inside that she wouldn’t want to be here any longer, with me and the kids, that it takes me a fleeting moment to realize what she’s saying. “You’re staying,” I say, unable to believe my ears.
“You bet I’m staying.”
My mouth is on hers in a heartbeat. “You’ve just made me the happiest man alive, Faith.” I push her back onto the bed, trailing kisses down the side of her jaw. “Now, let me see what I can do about giving you that replay you asked for.”
She chuckles, and I can feel her breath against my shoulder. “You must be so tired, Tristan. We—”
I press a fingertip to her lips. “Shh, I don’t want to hear it. You agreed to stay with me, so the least I can do is sacrifice a good night’s sleep to make you remember why it’s such a damn good idea.”
She laughs again. “A sacrifice, huh?”
“We’ve all got to make sacrifices,” I whisper against her skin. “That’s what we do for the ones we love.”
I raise my gaze to meet hers, and her eyes are wide. “Did you just say you—”
“Love you?” I smile wryly. “Damn right. And you better get used to hearing it, since you’re staying.”
She smiles, and I see tears glistening in her eyes. “I feel the same way, but I feel it’d be cheesy if I said it back to you now.”
“Don’t worry,” I say with a grin. “You can scream it out during the replay I’m about to give you.”
Epilogue
Faith
I’m holding one of the envelopes between my fingers. The one that will say whether I’ve been accepted to college or not. My heart is beating out of control. All I keep thinking is, when I was in high school, school came easy to me. But there wasn’t so much riding on it back then.
Everything’s changed, once again. I can’t even figure out how so much good can come out of so much bad.
My dad’s a compulsive gambler. He shouted the truth at me during one of his short-lived phone conversations…right before he had the audacity to ask for another thousand dollars. I’ve been blind to his addiction for a long time—long enough that I didn’t step forward in time. The hardware store was sold by the bank. And though I did give Dad that five thousand dollars to fix things, he didn’t use it to settle the arrears on the loan. I try not to blame myself for that one, because I’m honestly not sure five thousand would’ve been enough to cover it anyway, but it hurts just the same.
The house was nearly taken, too, but, when push came to shove, I couldn’t let him lose his home. I’ve got Tristan to thank for helping me with that.
Tristan also offered to pay for Dad’s rehab, to help him get the help he needs. Dad flat-out refused, called us both every name in the book, and said he didn’t want anything to do with me again. I haven’t heard from him, and I gave up hoping he’ll answer when I call. It hurts that he chose gambling over me, especially when I didn’t ask him to make a choice between the two, but all I can do is hope that someday he changes his mind.
It just feels like everything about my life has been a lie until now. Until Tristan, Darcy, and Ferguson.
But this? This is real.
“Is she going to open it, or are we going to sit here all day?” Darcy glance
s over at Tristan skeptically. He’d barbequed dinner, leaving the opening of the envelopes until the end.
Ferguson toddles over and kisses me on the cheek. “It’s okay, Faith. If you can’t go, we still love you.”
Leave it to him to make me want to bawl my eyes out at his cuteness. He’s so loveable.
Which is a bit like his dad when he lets his guard down. Sometimes he still keeps his defenses up, and it drives me crazy, but we have a lot of things to work on, and we can only take things one step at a time.
And right now, that next step is opening this damn envelope.
I want to go to Arizona State so bad I can practically taste it. I want to be here, with this family, and be a part of it. Tristan and I can get through this, but it’ll be a hell of a lot easier if I’m in Arizona.
“Are you going to open it, or just stare at it?”
I stick my tongue out at him, but then nod my head. Moment of truth.
With a deep breath in, I open the first one. “First, Boston.” I rip it open, then read the words.
“Well?” Tristan says expectantly. He moves to my side, not to read over my shoulder, but for support.
“I didn’t get in.” I put the letter down. The rejection doesn’t faze me. I didn’t want to go to Boston anyway, and Tristan knows that. I want to be here, where I belong.
“Next, Colorado.”
Tristan nods, and I rip open the next envelope.
Another rejection. My heart’s racing now. This suddenly isn’t feeling so promising anymore. My hands are trembling now, and the idea of another rejection feels like too much to bear.
“Do you want me to open the last one?” Tristan asks, holding his hand out for the envelope.
I nod. “Please.”
All eyes are on him as he opens it. Immediately, a smile grows wide on his face.
“Am I going to Arizona?”
He turns the letter toward me, grinning wildly. “You’re going to Arizona State!”
“Good, now you two can stop sneaking into each other’s rooms!” Darcy states happily, coming around to my side.
Both Tristan and I snap our heads up, staring at the little girl like she’s grown a second head.
We didn’t feel we were ready to tell the kids about us just yet. About our relationship. We didn’t want to confuse them, or make anything awkward.
Yeah, awkward. You know, kind of like finding out that we haven’t done a very good job of pulling the wool over his daughter’s eyes.
Tristan’s grinning from ear to ear, and he pulls me out of my chair, swinging me in the air. I feel the heat of his body on me, and it fortifies me, making me no longer afraid of anything.
Ferguson’s sitting in his chair, obviously confused at his sister’s comment, but then he starts clapping. Maybe he doesn’t exactly know why, but he will. We can tell him, just as soon as we’re done celebrating and laughing and enjoying this moment.
They’re my ready-made family, and Tristan is the man I’m going to love for life. Not because I have to, but simply because I want to.
“I love you, Faith Wilson.”
I stand on my tiptoes, giving him a peck on the lips, which is followed swiftly by Darcy’s and Ferguson’s collective, “Ew!”
I laugh, unable to take my eyes off the man in front of me. “I love you more.”
And I do, with all my heart. I love his children just as much.
There was a spark that ignited that love within me the first time I met them at the concession stand. Now, we have the rest of our lives to let it burn.
Made For Sin
READ THE
PROLOGUE AND FIRST CHAPTER
OF ‘MADE FOR SIN’ by
CASS KINCAID
Prologue
ASHTON
Twelve Years Ago…
At one point in time, I probably would have thought that being turned down by Layla Miller when I asked her to prom was the biggest blow to my ego I’d ever experienced. It fucking sucked when it happened, and I still can’t figure out where I went wrong. I mean, she’s the captain of the cheerleading squad, and I’m the quarterback for our school’s football team. We’re supposed to go together like—
Whatever, that’s beside the point now. Because the only thing worse than getting rejected by Layla, is having to celebrate my eighteenth goddamn birthday alongside my best friend’s little sister.
I don’t begrudge the girl having a party. Hell, she can take all her little teenybopper friends and go catch a sugar high at some Hannah Montana concert, if that’s what they want to do.
And that’s what they should want to do.
Which is exactly why I’m mortified and disgusted by the fact that my parents think it’s just fucking dandy to shove our families together and have an outdoor dinner and celebration in our backyard, celebrating my eighteenth birthday…and Sadie’s twelfth.
Sadie’s brother, Gerard—or Gunner, as he’s always been called—is my best friend, and he has been since I can remember. We’ve lived beside each other our entire lives, and our parents are best friends with each other, too. It’s sickeningly insane, really, just how interconnected and entwined our families are.
But having a joint birthday party with a godforsaken twelve-year-old? That’s a new low, even for our parents.
And Sadie’s not even the shy, quiet preteen that might have enough grace to eat her fucking birthday cake and leave me alone. No, Sadie Mitchell is boisterous, animated, and annoying as hell.
“It’s just a backyard BBQ with the Mitchells and a few friends, Ashton. You’ll survive.” My mother shoots me a glare, and for once it’s not because of the ripped holes in my jeans or the curse words coming from my mouth.
“Explain to me again why I have to be there for cake and ice cream with the Mitchells, Mom, because I don’t get it. You want to celebrate Sadie’s birthday, go right ahead. But, she’s twelve. I can think of better things to do with my time.” I pull my denim jacket from the back of the kitchen chair, shrugging it on. I don’t know where I’m planning to go, but there’s got to be somewhere better than here, with an impending joint birthday party with a kid.
“Oh, stop. It’ll be fun. You know that Rick and Anna enjoy the fact that you and Sadie have the same birthday, almost as much as your father and I do. It’s like fate brought us together,” she rambles on.
I can’t hold back, and I roll my eyes dramatically. “We’re not Mitchells, Mom. And they’re not Butlers. We’re two separate families, in case you and Dad haven’t noticed.”
I watch as Mom puts the finishing touches on the cake she’s working meticulously on, never once turning her attention away from it to look at me. I also notice that the cake has white and purple icing. Girl colors.
They can call it whatever they want, but the backyard party they’re tossing me into is for Sadie, the Mitchells’ daughter.
The daughter my Mom and Dad always wanted, but never got. Instead, they’re stuck with me, and they make no efforts to hide their disappointment in that fact.
“We’re practically family,” she halfheartedly argues back.
“We share a lot line with them, Mom. Not blood. Not last names. They’re neighbors. We can do things without the Mitchells every now and then, you know.”
Her lips pull tighter then, and her gaze flickers to me for a split second. “That’s enough, Ashton. I mean it. You and Gunner have been inseparable basically since birth, so I really don’t know where—”
“Gunner and I are the same age!”
“And Gunner will be at the birthday party at five o’clock,” Mom says briskly. “And so will you, so you’ll have each other to keep company, if you can’t bring yourself to give Sadie a few moments of your time on her special day.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind her that it’s my day, too. It’s my goddamn birthday, and all I want to do is spend it with someone other than a goddamn twelve-year-old girl. But there’s no use. Mom isn’t listening now, just like she hasn’t listen
ed the last eighteen years I’ve been alive.
The Mitchells and the Butlers will always be one and the same, as far as she’s concerned. And Gunner—yeah, he’s been my best friend since before we could walk, but I understand that we aren’t brothers.
Like brothers, sure. But not from the same family.
And I sure as hell am not Sadie Mitchell’s brother, either. The last thing I want to be is any closer to that annoying little girl than I have to be.
* * *
“I thought eighteenth birthdays were supposed to be full of stolen liquor and chicks in the backseat of our cars?” Gunner stares straight ahead, his elbows leaning against the back of the top of the picnic table, legs sprawled out in front of him. “How the fuck did we get lucky enough to be here, with our parents, and Sadie, eating hamburgers and chocolate cake?”
His summation does little to help my mood out. “Your guess is as good as mine.” I sit beside him, drinking Pepsi from the can in my hands. We both have done everything we could for the past hour to avoid hanging out with our parents or their friends. “You can thank your sister for this.”
That comment earns me a cocked eyebrow from him. “Seriously? You can’t blame her. It’s not like she purposely was born on your birthday to spite you. It’s their fault.” Gunner juts his chin out toward the group of adults on the patio. “Our parents have gone all fucking Brady Bunch on us. One big happy family, and all that.”
“They can’t tell where your family stops, and mine begins.” I narrow my eyes. “It’s bullshit.”
“Easy, killer.” Gunner shifts, but by now he should’ve realized how impossible it is to get comfortable on a picnic table. “If it’s any consolation, my eighteenth is in two months. We’ll do it up right, then.”
Puck Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance Page 10