“Then you could do that, too. Your body. Your choice.”
“Good,” he said, nodding. “I think I might keep them like this. I honestly don’t mind them so much anymore.”
“You’re going to have to introduce me to that teacher of yours,” Andrea said. “I’ll need to thank him for all the work he’s done with you.”
Xander’s grin became brighter, something she recognized from back when they were both carefree and stupidly in love.
It made her a little stupidly in love with him right now.
“I told him about you a couple of times. He’ll want to meet you.”
“Good things, I hope? Maybe?”
Xander’s hands slid down and around her waist. “Definitely good things. Nothing but.”
She sighed. He could be lying to her about that part and she wouldn’t care. What was in the past was in the past. The only thing she cared about in that moment was looking ahead.
With him.
“What will you do about your job? Your story?” Xander asked.
Andrea clenched her teeth. She’d been hoping she wouldn’t have to think about that for a little while, but she supposed that may have been a bit too much to have hoped for.
She looked up at Xander, a wry smile on her face. “What would you say to giving me an exclusive?”
He raised his brows. “An exclusive story? Sure. Is that allowed with your contract?”
“I can leave whenever I want. I’d have to be on my own or with another company before publishing it. It’s a gossip rag. No one takes them seriously anyway, and I’m tired of working there.”
“So if I give you an exclusive interview about what happened here, it will make it easier to grab another job?”
“Or I could work on my own,” she said. “Start a website, get my stories up on there, pull together some funding. I could be a real journalist.”
“You can’t be a real journalist with a bigger news organization?”
She gave him a look. “You of all people should know better than to ask that question.”
He laughed. It was a happy sound, and it made Andrea feel happy to hear it.
“I want to hear you laugh like that for the rest of your life.”
“Is that a proposal?” Xander asked. “You were supposed to wait for me to do that.”
Heat climbed her neck. She had to look away from him in that moment because it was way too embarrassing to think about how fast their conversation had gone down this road.
“Well, what if I wanted to ask first?”
Xander pressed his lips together. They stood there, quietly looking at each other in a silence that was louder than anything Andrea had ever before experienced.
“I can’t tell if we’re being serious, or just talking about this.”
Andrea pushed herself back up to her toes, kissing him one more time. She’d wanted to kiss him to comfort him as much as she needed to comfort herself, but when she pulled back, it was the glaze in his eyes that made her stop.
Somehow, the way he looked at her, as if he wouldn’t mind being married to her, made all the right places inside her body melt.
“You want to?” he asked.
Andrea pressed her lips together. “Sure.”
“Sure?” he asked, his mouth quirking. “Just sure? You’re okay with hitching your saddle to a dragon, and whenever your in-laws come knocking it’ll be because they want to burn down our house with the both of us in it?”
“Hmm,” Xander might have said that as if he was joking, but she could still sense the hint of seriousness in his voice.
He wanted her to be sure. To be fair, she wanted to be sure, too.
“Maybe you can introduce me to the old fox who taught you, and he can show me a couple of moves.” She smiled up at Xander, noting the way he blinked, absorbing her words, and then put his hands behind her head, kissing her hard.
Her body warmed. Okay, this kiss was definitely better than the ones she’d been giving him.
She’d wanted to comfort him because of what his family had been doing, but little did she know, having her mouth claimed and taken like this was about the best possible thing she could have done for him.
Xander held her close, inching her towards the bed. She knew where he was going with this, and she was entirely on board.
They fell on her bed together, Xander rising up onto his hands, looking down at her with a glimmer in his eyes that made him look younger. As if his scars weren’t even there.
“I love you.”
Andrea ran her fingers through his hair. “I love you, too. Do we have enough time before I have to get out of this room?”
“They’d make an exception, and then I’m going to take you to dinner, and we’re going to do this all over again.”
“In your room?”
He nodded, the both of them pulling themselves higher up the bed. Xander stayed on his knees, his large fingers slowly pulling open the buttons of her blouse.
“In our room,” he said, smiling at her as her bra was revealed.
He swiftly unclasped it, revealing her breasts before he leaned down, pressing his lips to one of her budding nipples.
Andrea sighed, pushing her chest against his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair. “Then we can do all the honeymooning things. Swim with the mermaids, tan on the beach.”
Xander looked up at her. “We are at a resort, after all.”
“And the resort is scared enough to give us pretty much whatever we want, aren’t they?”
That playful gleam returned to his eyes, and the smile he gave her showed off one of his corner fangs. “Baby, while I’m not opposed to letting the resort spoil you rotten on their dime, I think you forgot how much I got paid for doing those movies. I can spoil you rotten just fine when we get out of here.”
“Oh yeah.” Andrea nodded, then grinned at him. “I guess that’s the reason why you love me? Because I can actually forget that you’re made of money?”
“That’s exactly it,” he said, leaning in and kissing her again.
It was going to be a good night.
TRISTAN
KNIGHT’S EDGE SERIES
LIZ GAVIN
Izzie Anderson had a remarkable singing voice, an angelic face and a hot body. Too young for rock stardom, she partied too hard, stooped too low and hurt the only man who loved her for who she really was. She betrayed Tristan Knight’s trust and ripped out his heart, but she lied to protect him. Now she needs Tristan to save her son. Will he believe her when she confesses the truth? Or are there wrongs that can never be righted?
* * *
Fifteen years ago, Tristan Knight found a haven in a secluded beach in the Southern coast of Brazil, where he mended his tattered heart and healed his invisible scars. Away from the deceit of the music industry, he started fresh as the owner of a high-end restaurant. He never thought he would meet Izzie again, so when she walks into Chez Nous Bistro one evening, he expects to get outraged. When he doesn’t, he realizes her betrayal left him heartless. So why is it that his soul feels less hollow every time he sees her?
* * *
Can two damaged souls heal each other? Or are some lies impossible to forgive?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A big part of my writing process consists of interacting with Alpha Readers. If you are not familiar with the term, they are the brave people who read rough drafts, before editors or beta readers set eyes on a story. I have found the best group of such brave souls in Chantal, Colleen, Jaime, Linda, Monique and Ola, who worked with me while I wrote this short-story. You, ladies, are the best! You stuck with Tristan until the very end and showed me things I would not have noticed otherwise. Thank YOU!
At this point in my writing career, Kover to Kover has become indispensable. Kim Birdsell, its founder and editor extraordinaire, polishes my manuscripts with such precision and care I would rarely find elsewhere. Thanks, my friend, for another outstanding job. I am glad I can count on your commitment,
professionalism and high-quality work.
Edited by Kover to Kover
Cover by Dokeshi’s Book Services
CHAPTER 1
Tristan stroked Bruna’s smooth back before anchoring her with one hand on her shoulder and angling himself to go deeper. His grunts matched her groans as his length slid past her G-spot. As his speed increased moving in and out of her, Tristan smacked her round butt cheeks and leaned on her back, reaching around for her wet folds.
Bruna threw her head back. “God!” she screamed when he found her clit and tweaked it.
“That’s right, beautiful. Give it to me,” he whispered in her ear, when her flesh began to tremble around his erection.
A few more thrusts and she came on his cock. It didn’t take long for Tristan to unload, triggering a new series of orgasms in the brunette’s body. Her round thighs shook while her arms gave out from under her. Bruna collapsed on the mattress, rolling onto her back. Gleaming brown eyes stared at Tristan from under heavy lids and a grin brightened her face. “Every. Damn. Time. You’re like a sex machine or something.”
“You sound surprised,” Tristan chuckled as he knotted the used condom and hopped off the bed to dispose of it in the bathroom.
“Honestly, I thought after a couple of dates the novelty would wear off and you’d move on.”
“Ouch! I sound shallow when you say it like that,” Tristan sat on the bed beside Bruna, splaying his hand on her midriff. “What the hell do you mean by novelty?”
She dropped her eyes to his hand as it drew circles on her skin. Her cheeks flushed and she didn’t return her gaze to his face as she whispered, “Well, I’m not the kind of girl who lands guys like you. I mean, look at me! I’m fat as a cow. You’re way out of my league.”
Tristan stopped outlining the suntan lines on her lower body with the tip of his fingers to frame her face in his hands. “Hey, look at me,” he waited for Bruna to drag her eyes back to his. “I like your body the way it is. There’s nothing wrong with a pair of luscious thighs.” He released her face to squeeze her thighs and plant a naughty kiss below her belly button, then moved his hands under her body to find his favorite feature. “Or a round swattable butt.”
Bruna sighed when his fingers teased her crack as Tristan leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her turned-up nose. She moved her head up a fraction and their lips locked in a quick, but intense kiss. Tristan broke it before he changed his mind.
“You really gotta go? It’s not even five yet.”
“Sorry, beautiful. I’ve got tons of things to do before heading to the restaurant and you’re a distraction,” he apologized as he went around her tidy room collecting the articles of clothing he scattered around last night.
He pulled up the zipper on his jeans without bothering to button them. The tight black tank top covered the dangling ends of the belt. He would finish dressing as he went out. Shoving wallet and phone in his back pockets, he snatched his keys from her nightstand.
“See you later?” Bruna’s hopeful tone sounded out of character. She was the one who made the booty call and spelled it out that it was just a booty call.
It betrayed her insecurity though. His arguments didn’t seem to be convincing enough. At the same time, he didn’t want to be a jerk by misleading her. True, he never considered her physique to be an issue. True, they had scorching hot chemistry in the sack. True, she knew he wasn’t into long-term anything. Looking at her sparkling eyes, he couldn’t find the courage to remind her of that. Not at that moment.
He went for the next best thing. “I’ll do my best. I’ve got a long night ahead of me. I’ll call you, if I’m not dead beat when I come home.”
She nodded and he left. Ignoring the elevator, Tristan climbed the ten flights of stairs to his floor without breaking a sweat. Exercising regularly at the oceanfront promenade that ran along Beira-Mar Norte Avenue was paying off. He grinned as he opened the door to his apartment, grabbed his car keys and left again. Even though he barely slept a wink last night and his body begged for some respite, he couldn’t do anything about it. He was running late. He should have left for the Farmer’s Market half an hour ago.
As he waited for the elevator, he sent a little prayer to the universe that he’d still find decent produce at the market. Chef Durand would be pissed if the delivery truck brought him subpar ingredients later today. Tristan couldn’t blame him for that. When the shining metal doors chimed open, he climbed in the elevator and pressed the garage button on the high-tech panel. He watched the bright blue numbers decreasing as he traveled from the penthouse to the underground garage.
“Today’s going to be a fucking long one,” Tristan muttered to himself as he rubbed the back of his neck.
He was an expert in compartmentalizing, so although he cared for Bruna and felt crappy for not having the balls to make their no-strings-attached situation clearer, Tristan had already moved those issues to the back of his mind when the elevator opened its doors and he sprinted to his car.
TRISTAN RUSHED out of the shower toweling himself. Splotching as many thick water drops on the floor as the ones he effectively dried off his body, he mumbled a string of colorful words about never hitting the snooze button again.
“Motherfucker!” he yelled when his bare toes slammed against the bed post. It was going to smart throughout the evening, reminding him of how much the expression ‘just five more minutes’ shouldn’t be used when one needed to get up.
Just what I needed. Standing up those three additional hours behind the bar counter today will be a blast. Damn it!
He hopped around the cluttered bedroom pulling on a pair of fresh gray underwear and the charcoal gray dress pants he wore the night before. He searched for a clean shirt, ignoring the dazzling sight of a blood orange sun hovering low over turquoise waters behind the iconic Hercilio Luz Bridge. The stunning ocean views, framed by double floor-to-ceiling balcony doors, were the features that convinced Tristan to rent that oceanfront apartment in downtown Florianópolis instead of a house closer to the restaurant. Now was not the time for contemplation though.
Having put on socks and shoes in record time, Tristan buttoned up the crispy-white shirt with one hand, while the other shoved wallet and keys in the back pockets of his pants. He crossed the spacious living room towards the front door with a few steps.
In the elevator, he thumbed his cell phone, scrolling down the screen to call the restaurant bar. “Hey, Moira. What’s up?”
“Tell me you’re parking,” her low growl sounded nothing like Moira’s usual sunny disposition.
“I will be in about fifteen,” he flinched at the torrent of high-pitched graphic words that pricked his ear as Moira cussed in her native Portuguese. He learned enough of the language to gauge just how pissed she was at him. He apologized, “My bad. Sorry.”
“Puta que pariu! Shit, man! You’re already fifteen minutes late, dude. I’ve gotta take Dani to the doctor.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He screwed his face at his ineptitude to come up with a more eloquent reply to Moira’s concern. She deserved better, so he tried again. “Listen, you’ll make it in time. I promise. I’m on my way. Just wanted to let you know I was running late. Gotta go.”
As the elevator doors opened, Tristan jogged to the convertible parked two spaces to the right and hopped into the driver’s seat without bothering to open the door. When he exited the garage, the sun glinted off the polished red hood, blinding Tristan for a moment. He hastily grabbed the sunglasses from a small compartment in the dashboard to the left of the steering wheel. As he merged into traffic on Beira-Mar Norte Avenue, he revved the engine of the M4 GTS and sped up towards the freeway. Luckily, all the lights remained green and he got on the southbound freeway without hassle. Late afternoon traffic was surprisingly light, which allowed Tristan to make it to the parking lot behind the restaurant in lightspeed time. Not meeting any cops on the way certainly helped.
Moira was probably stalking the parking lot through the
restaurant windows because she stormed out of the backdoor as he pulled up to his reserved spot. When she stomped by him on the way to her car, long blond curls bouncing off her back, she slowed down just enough to gift Tristan with a farewell scowl. She turned on the engine of her battered green Jetta and started backing out of her spot before he was out of his car.
“’Bout time, man,” she shouted through the half-open window before peeling off. Tires screeched while pedestrians jumped backwards to avoid her maniac maneuver worthy of a bank robbery getaway car driver.
After watching his employee’s red tail lights disappear around the corner, Tristan hung his head and shook it, as he walked to the door, grumbling, “Today can’t get any worse.”
While evening shifts were the busiest at the restaurant, happy hour shifts were the busiest time at the bar. So, when he agreed to cover for Moira, Tristan knew he was in for a long, stressful double shift. Yet he couldn’t deny her request. Busting her ass off to raise her kids since the ex-husband moved to another state, Moira rarely asked for anyone to cover for her. Certainly, she needed money to keep up with the bills and happy hour tips were the most generous. As adorable as her small children were, providing for Danielle and Felipe kept Moira’s finances constantly on the brink of collapse. Not comfortable. Tristan knew all too well what it took for a single mom to raise a kid. His was loaded, money not booze, yet it didn’t mean he had an easy childhood, so he did what he could to help Moira. Another reason for beating himself up for being late.
I shouldn’t have taken that afternoon nap. What was I thinking?
Problem was Tristan wasn’t sleeping well. Aside from the distraction Bruna turned out to be, he wasn’t getting much sleep, even when he didn’t respond to her booty calls. Or didn’t make some of his own. Insomnia had been a thing of the past until a couple of months ago. Family issues mixed with bad investment decisions triggered old demons. He convinced himself the sleepless nights had nothing to do with recent tabloid headlines. He made a point of ignoring those anyway. He steered clear of gossip as much as humanly possible.
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