He didn’t move closer, just stood there, the glass in his hand, watching her. A little bit of light from the hallway illuminated his face. He looked different from the last time she’d seen him. There was a dangerous edge to him, as though he’d gone through hell and come back…darker. What had happened to him?
“Katherine…it’s good to see you,” he said, as though carefully selecting his words.
Heat rushed to her face, and she was grateful for the dim lighting. Was he still furious with her? She’d understand if he was, but she wanted to talk, to explain…to beg him to give her another chance. It was her fault, this gaping void between them. She hadn’t wanted to believe he wasn’t seeing Brianna. But he’d called her “Katherine” just now, as though he were reminding himself that he wanted to keep his distance from her.
“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question, but her mind and mouth apparently weren’t communicating.
“I live here.” Tristan set his glass down on a small table and took another step forward.
Lord, he moved so beautifully—graceful, sensual, controlled. Her heart raced wildly, and her mouth went dry at the sight of him.
“You live at Fox Hill?” Of course he lived in a fairy-tale house, just like in her dreams.
Was there anything about him she could resist? Maybe his sense of entitlement, but it was easy to overlook when everything else about the man was too perfect, too seductive. Kat stood still in the doorway, able to retreat but unwilling. Her heart fluttered, and she tried to control her breathing, but being so close to him filled her with a mix of excitement and nerves.
“It’s my mother’s. I live here while I’m at university.” He took one more step.
Dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked sexy as hell, his arm flexing as he raised one hand as though to reach for her, before he caught himself and dropped it back to his side.
“I saw your cousin at the door. I thought this was her home.”
Tristan shook his head. “She’s helping host tonight, but she lives in London.”
“Then who was the guy who handed me the invitation?” She thought of the good-looking man with the silver cards.
Tristan chuckled. “Tall as me and blond?”
When she nodded, he chuckled. “That would be Carter. My friend. He lives here at Fox Hill, as well.”
“How do you know him?” Kat leaned against the doorjamb. It was wonderful to be talking to him again, after she’d been facing the prospect of never seeing him again. Like sucking in a breath of air after being trapped underwater. The tight ache in her chest that had been suffocating her for the last two weeks seemed to have almost completely vanished.
“Carter’s father is the steward of my father’s estate. We grew up together. Despite my father’s best efforts—” a wry smile twisted his lips “—he couldn’t crush our friendship. We’ve been thick as thieves since we were boys.” His tone was so full of affection for Carter that Kat couldn’t resist smiling.
It was how she felt about Lacy. Sometimes a person was lucky enough to have a force of nature as a friend, and one couldn’t imagine life without them.
Tristan moved closer until he was leaning against the wall next to the door, towering over her. He’d given her plenty of time to escape, but the last thing she wanted was to leave. He’d caught her in his spell. His eyes alone spun black magic around her, and his voice, low and rough, combined with that flirty smile made him irresistible.
“Want to know a secret?” he asked in a silken whisper.
“Yes,” she whispered back.
Tristan reached up to cup her cheek, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Electric tingles shot from her cheek down to her toes, and she leaned in to the touch. How had she gone so many days without this? She was a fool for thinking she could stop herself from wanting him.
“He’s madly in love with Celia, and she with him.”
She could picture the two of them, Carter and Celia, a handsome couple, happy and in love. Like a fairy tale. Funny how everything in Tristan’s world seemed to make her think of that.
“Are they together?”
He shook his head. “No. Her parents would object. Her mother is my father’s younger sister, and unfortunately she’s a bit too much like him when it comes to her daughter’s relationships.”
“But that’s—”
“Ridiculous, medieval even. Yet completely normal for our sort.” He scowled, his eyes darkening, but she sensed it was out of anger at the truth.
He’d be an earl someday. He’d marry someone important in British society, like Lacy had said. Yet the thought of him with another woman made her stomach turn.
“Kat…” Tristan stared at her, his hungry gaze making her a dizzy. “You should leave.”
“Leave?” she echoed, his words stinging like a slap. She had really screwed things up between them.
“Yes.” He leaned down the last few inches until his lips feathered over hers. “Because if you don’t leave, I’ll lose control. I spent two goddamn weeks without you.” The low growl came out of the back of his throat, and it sent shivers down her spine. “Do you know what that’s like? Having the thing you want most ripped away from you? I want you, Kat. Bad enough that losing you nearly killed me.” He paused, his breath uneven as he stared at her. There was a feral glint in his eyes that sparked her body to life. He wouldn’t be gentle, he would be rough, wild, and yet it didn’t frighten her even though she knew it should have.
“I’m not leaving,” she promised him, her body trembling with her need for him.
“You’d better be damned sure darling, because if you stay, I’ll take you to bed and fuck you for the rest of the night. I’ve spent too much time fantasizing about it. I won’t be able to control myself if you stay.”
At this suggestion, all rationality fled. She barely knew him. Yet after spending a night in his arms, sharing their secrets, she did know some hidden part of him. A part she didn’t want to let go. Kat needed to be with him as much as she needed her next breath. She wasn’t going to miss this chance.
She curled her arms around his neck and brushed her lips against his. “Then take me to bed.”
Tristan wrapped his arms around her body, one hand coming up to grip the back of her neck, the possessive hold sparking everything inside her to life. His taste, like the brandy he’d been drinking, was thick and rich upon her tongue as he kissed her.
Kissing him was addictive.
Can’t get enough. Never enough.
She dug her fingers into his hair, tugging at the strands, urging him to be rougher, to kiss her harder. Everything around them faded away, and she was locked inside her own private universe with Tristan.
He made her feel alive, sexy, like a woman in ways she’d never felt before. As though she was a seductress, a strong, beautiful woman who could have this handsome man in her bed. That silly feeling of being a naive college girl who didn’t know anything about love or life melted away beneath his kiss. Tristan had introduced her to both in a few short weeks. Even when he’d been out of her life, she hadn’t been able to escape thoughts of him. She hadn’t wanted to, either.
Take me , she begged him with her kiss.
With a low animalistic sound, he gripped her by the waist and lifted her up against his body. Carrying her over to a desk in the study, he cleared the surface of its contents with a swipe of his hand. The items hit the floor with a crash, the papers fluttering.
He set her down and continued to kiss her ruthlessly. He was conquering every part of her body and soul with every wicked slant of his mouth, and she loved it. She tugged at his shirt, trying to lift it, needing to get closer.
“Darling, I want you…but we need an actual bed,” he moaned against her mouth.
His exploring hands and near-frantic kisses heightened the throb of desire between her legs. She was a live wire, and one touch in the right spot and would set her off. Her hands scrambled over his clothes, trying to find a way to get to
his skin, remembering all too well how he looked in nothing but boxers.
“No bed,” she clawed at him. “Here, now—”
Chapter 15
M aybe I need to take the edge off you.”
His husky words were Kat’s only warning before he jerked her legs apart. He held onto the back of her neck with one hand, while his other slid up her inner thigh, pushing her dress up to her hips. Then he cupped her mound, the heat of his palm against her throbbing clit making her jerk and gasp.
“You like that?” Tristan rubbed her clit through her panties, swirling a fingertip over the nub. It was almost too sensitive.
Kat’s hands slipped beneath his shirt. She raked her nails down his back at the same moment he dipped a finger past her panties and stroked her opening.
God, his voice, he could say anything with that accent—like a dirty-talking Knight of the Round Table or something—and she’d explode. A desperate moan escaped her. How had she gone straight to Arthurian erotic fantasies with him?
“I need the words, darling. Be that naughty little kitty Kat for me.”
Another wonderful, wicked stroke of his thumb, a feather of his lips on her jaw, and a slight squeeze on her neck, all reminded her how helpless she was to resist anything he wanted to do to her. He was a true British bad boy, and it was turning on everything inside her.
“Tristan, please ,” she panted, her hips canting in the direction of his finger.
“Please what? Say it for me, Kat,” he ordered. His hand at the nape of her neck fisted in her hair, jerking slightly on the strands, giving her a hint of pain, which only made her skin flush with an unbearable heat.
She was too shy to demand he fuck her with his fingers, too embarrassed to be so bold. But she wanted to be able to tell him exactly what he should do to her to make her come, not that he needed any hints. It was like the man could read her mind. In silent begging, she shifted her body closer and finally pleaded with him, “Touch me, harder .”
With a gentle nip at her lips, he did exactly what she wanted and thrust one finger into her. The world seemed to blossom with new colors, and everything started to spin.
“Oh, God!” she hissed and writhed against his hand, so close to coming.
He nuzzled her neck, leaving hot, teasing kisses as he caged her body against his with one arm while his other hand began to slowly fuck her. Each slow, deliberate penetration of that one finger was devastating and perfect, like the night in her dorm room only a thousand times stronger.
“There’s so much I want to do to you, little kitty Kat,” he purred in that soft, velvety accent.
It was all she needed. A sudden explosion of pleasure overtook her, and she spasmed around his finger. Her teeth sank into his shirt-clad shoulder as she rode the intense orgasm.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, panting against her ear. “You’re destroying my self-control.” He chuckled, before he nibbled her neck. “You’re going to unman me, at this rate.”
She laughed. Unman the sexiest guy she’d ever met? Unlikely.
He kissed her again, taking his time with leisurely licks and nips. His finger was still inside her, drawing out the trembling aftershocks of pleasure. Her muscles clamped down on him again and again, trying to keep him there.
A wave of shyness hit her, and she buried her face against his chest, her hands still stroking the hot muscles beneath his black shirt. Reality crept back bit by bit as the high of her orgasm faded, and she realized she was sitting on the edge of an antique desk in a fire-lit library with Tristan standing between her thighs. It was wanton, sexy, and Kat couldn’t help but feel strange because she’d never dreamed she’d be this kind of woman.
She was the girl who stayed at home and did her homework, went to bed early, got to class and just…worked. But here she was with Tristan, and he was opening up a new, darker side to her, one that felt older, more aware of the world and of what a man and woman could be together. A shiver rippled through her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and buried his face against the crown of her hair.
“Yes.” She smiled up at him and wriggled to get closer. “You’re so hot.”
“Need me to warm you up?” he asked, his low, rumbling laugh creating a new ripple of excitement and contentment inside her.
“Hmm, that would be nice.” She pressed her cheek against his throat, breathing in his clean, dark scent. It was addictive. She wanted to bottle up that scent and take it everywhere.
When he withdrew his hand from between her thighs, she hated the emptiness.
With a little wicked grin, Tristan raised his finger to his lips, sucking it, his eyes briefly closing as he tasted…her. God, he was licking his finger, the one that had been inside her.
“I always knew you’d taste sweet.” He opened his eyes and stared at her with a hungry intensity that made her entire body ripple with another mini-orgasm.
He pulled her dress down her legs, and she slid off the desk. For a second she worried that the night was over, but when she looked up at his face and saw the fire in his gaze and the wicked tilt of his lips in a sinful smile, she knew things were far from over.
“What do you say we try a bed this time?”
Tristan held out a hand, and she tucked her fingers into his. He gave a little tug, and she followed him out of the study. Music and laughter echoed up from the hallway near the stairs, but Kat could barely hear it above the wild pounding of her heart. They walked down the hallway, and he stopped at a room, opening the door. The dark interior was inviting rather than frightening.
“Your bedroom?” she asked.
She could barely believe that this was going to happen. She was going to have sex with Tristan in his room. Her first time…with him, with any man. But with him, it meant everything.
“Yes.” He grasped the little brass key sticking out of the door and, with a slow turn, locked her inside with him. Another skitter of her pulse, and she had to swallow to keep calm. How could he make her feel a little scared and so wildly excited at the same time?
She stood there taking in the room while he disappeared into the connecting bathroom and ran water in the sink as he washed his hands.
The large four-poster bed was made of rich dark wood, the posts carved with leaves and swirling vines. Kat bent and unzipped her ankle boots, sliding them off. She stood by the foot of the bed and wriggled her toes in the thick cream carpet.
Everything in the room was rich and decadent, but also understated. From the navy blue silk coverlet and the thick pillows piled invitingly on the bed, to the black-and-white photographs of Cambridge that hung on the walls, Tristan had quite a room.
“What do you think?” Tristan came up behind her, his hands settling on her hips.
Kat turned her head and rubbed it against him. It was so hard to think straight when he was touching her, and even harder knowing they were going to…
“It’s a lot better than my dorm room…”
Bigger bed. Softer sheets. I can do this. I want to do this.
He pressed his cheek against the crown of her hair before his hands tugged at the zipper of her dress.
“I missed you,” he whispered. The way he said it, with a mixture of confession and epiphany, made it seem as though he was surprised to admit it.
“I missed you, too,” she admitted. “I’m sorry about what I said.” She held her breath.
His hands froze in the middle of pulling down her dress.
“Why?”
Kat reached up to shimmy her dress down her shoulders. It dropped to the floor, and she stepped out of it. Would talking about this make things worse? It would probably kill the moment, but she owed him an apology.
“I’m sorry for judging you. I should’ve given you a fair chance.” Kat rotated in his arms, aware she was wearing nothing but a black bra and panties. She hoped—no, she prayed—he’d still want her.
His eyes raked down her body, and she clenched her thighs together at the hot hunger she saw i
n his gaze.
“Consider it forgiven. Before I met you…I was that kind of man. But no longer. Not while I’m with you .” Tristan cupped her face, and their gazes locked. Then he began to press teasing, soft kisses on her, his hands stroking her hair, making her shiver even as he tamed her frantically beating heart.
She held her breath and then nodded. “Please don’t hurt me. If we do this, I want you to promise me that.” She meant emotionally, he had to know that. She wasn’t afraid he’d hurt her physically.
Tristan gripped the back of her neck, holding her still so she couldn’t shy away during the most vulnerable moment of her life.
“I can’t erase my past, and sometimes it resurfaces. If you can trust me, nothing will hurt you while we’re together.” His promise was a husky whisper, but his eyes were sharp with sincerity.
Kat tried not to think about his past, his playboy reputation, and the scores of women he’d been with before. It was a little easier, at least right now, to push it all aside because she wanted to trust him.
“Okay.” With a smile, she gripped the bottom of his T-shirt and tugged it up. He helped her lift the fabric off, and he tossed it away. But when she reached for his jeans, he caught her hands.
“Leave them. If we don’t, I’ll be inside you too soon, and I want to fuck you all night, darling. Don’t test me until I’ve regained some control.”
His words made her shiver. She’d never cared all that much for the word fuck but when Tristan said it to her…it made her skin burn and clit pulse in time with her wild heartbeat.
Tristan lifted her up by her waist and carried her the short distance to the bed. He tossed her onto her back, but before she could react, he’d crawled up her body, only pausing to unfasten the button of his jeans. But he didn’t remove them. The promise of unbuttoned denim was somehow hotter. God, what this man did to her.
When he noticed her watching him, he grinned. “The last thing I need is one bloody button stopping me once I’m ready to be inside you.”
Her face flamed, and she ducked her head. He placed a kiss over her brow and nudged her knees apart with one of his.
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