Drawn to You — Volume Two

by Vanessa Booke

I smile as Nick throws his arm around my shoulder.

  “You know you’re like a brother to me,” he says.

  I look at him at the sound of his tone growing serious.

  “I know, but sometimes you need to make your own way in the world. Even if it means struggling a little more.”

  He flashes me a wicked grin. “Just know that you always have someone here to pull you out of the water if things get too rough.”

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  “I’m glad you made it out this weekend.”

  Emily’s sweet laughter catches my attention as I survey the club goers around us. She presses her petite frame on the bar top in front of her, giving the tool behind the bar a better look at her chest. Something about the way she does it makes it all the more painful to watch. It’s like she can feel me watching her.

  “Me, too. Although I’m not sure if it was the best idea coming.”

  “Are you kidding me? It was a great idea. Plus, I know Emily wanted you here. She loves you.”

  She loves you.

  I never thought those words would affect me the way they do. I watch Emily walking back toward us with a flushed smile. My chest aches at the bittersweet sight of it. I’ve never felt more hate for anyone than I do for that bartender. I envy his ability to make her smile and the freedom he has to take advantage of being with her. The time I spent with Emily when we were younger now seems so far away. That kind of happiness seems so far out of my grasp that I know it will never happen again.

  But maybe it should be enough just being around her. Watching her be happy. That could be enough.

  TWENTY-ONE

  EMILY

  I TRY MY best to hide the flush on my cheeks behind my hair. It feels strange and exhilarating to flirt with a stranger knowing that Tristan’s watching. A scowl crosses Tristan’s face as we return with our drinks. I’m not surprised by his silence, but the way his eyes penetrate me sends a shiver down my body. I watch as Nicholas leaves us to dance with a young woman he spots across the room wearing a dark red cocktail dress.

  “Tristan, dance with me,” Ceci says, snuggling up beside him.

  I choke on my drink surprised at Ceci’s words. Does Ceci like Tristan? It wouldn’t be the first time she’s paid attention to him. I try to fight the overwhelming desire to look at Tristan, but fail miserably. Our eyes collide for a brief moment before I hear him answer Ceci.

  “Actually, I promised the birthday girl a dance.”

  Ceci’s smile falters for a second before returning to a full grin.

  “Of course, don’t mind me. I’m going to go find someone to play with.”

  Cecil saunters off before disappearing into the crowd of bodies.

  “Why didn’t you just dance with her?” I blurt.

  Tristan reaches out to touch me, but I quickly move out of his grasp as I pretend to see someone familiar. My rejection doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, it only seems to make Tristan more persistent.

  “Dance with me?” Tristan asks.

  I ignore his chest brushing up against me as I try to shift away. After several seconds, his hand grips the top of my jeans stopping me. The sensation throws me off balance, but his hold tightens steadying me. I look up to find his intense hazel eyes peering down. There’s a strange look in them that I can’t quite figure out. What does he want now? The weight of his hand resting against my hip immobilizes me as his fingers sear through the fabric of my jeans. The touch sends a tingling sensation across my hipbone and down my pelvis. I feel myself grow wet at the thought of his hand slipping further down my front. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve thought about it.

  “I think it’s better if you don’t touch me,” I say breathlessly.

  He chuckles. “Don’t worry, I promise we’ll just dance.”

  Tristan leads me toward the dance floor with a small smile playing across his lips. He places my hand on his arm and the other he holds in his palm. My body resists as he pulls me in closer. The alarms going off in my head warn me to pull back and to make some excuse so that I can leave. Any excuse.

  “Let go,” he whispers.

  ‘What?”

  “Let. Go.”

  “Let go of what?”

  I look up at him confused at his subliminal message. I can’t let my emotions get the better of me. I can’t let him in again.

  “You’re resisting me. I can feel it…”

  “Dancing takes a certain amount of trust.”

  “Yes, it does,” he says, pulling me against him.

  I laugh nervously. “So I’m just expected to surrender and trust that you know what you’re doing?”

  “Letting me take the lead doesn’t mean you’re powerless. There’s power in submission. Don’t ever forget that.”

  My cheeks warm at Tristan’s words. Somehow, I don’t think we’re talking about dancing anymore.

  A new song starts, and I feel Tristan leading me across the dance floor. It takes my body a while to adjust to his pace, but I feel myself slowly relaxing. Despite how much my mind resists him, it doesn’t take long for me to stop focusing on my body and to start focusing on his. Tristan is an amazing dancer. I shouldn’t be surprised because he seems to excel at almost everything, but it also makes me feel like I don’t know enough about him. Tristan is still a mystery. A puzzle waiting to be solved.

  “I’m sorry about what I said at my apartment.”

  “What?” I ask almost tripping on my on foot.

  Tristan’s hand catches my waist, stopping me from stumbling forward into another couple dancing nearby. My heart leaps into my throat as he sweeps me against him. My nipples pucker at the feeling. Somehow, there are not enough clothes between us to hide my desire. Tristan twirls me and then pulls me into him.

  “I acted like an idiot,” Tristan says, leaning the side of his face against mine.

  The intimacy of the moment startles me out of my starry-eyed trance. My gaze wanders toward my brother. Does he see this? I spot him across the room dancing with the brunette in the corner. Well, dancing wouldn’t be an appropriate word. It’s more like dry humping.

  “Did you hear me?”

  I turn back to find Tristan waiting for my reply. He reaches up and caresses my cheek. I lean into the touch closing my eyes and savoring the brief moment of bliss. I still haven’t told Tristan that I don’t actually have a boyfriend. Part of me wants to be honest with him, but the other part of me wants him to believe I’ve moved on. I’m sure he has.

  “Why were you flirting with the bartender,” he asks.

  “I’m not allowed to flirt with handsome men?”

  Tristan smiles, but a flicker of annoyance grazes his lips.

  “What about Augie?”

  “Augustine?”

  “Your little boyfriend. I’m not so sure he would like you parading your tits across the bar top,” he says, mocking me.

  I blush at Tristan’s accusation and the realization that he somehow knows that Augie isn’t really my boyfriend. There’s no sense in denying it.

  “Ass.”

  Before I realize what I’m saying, the word escapes my mouth. A low rumble erupts from Tristan’s chest. It takes me a few minutes to realize he’s actually laughing.

  “What?”

  “You’re not the little girl who used to sneak into my bedroom at night anymore.”

  His words send a blush to my cheeks. I know he’s referring to the nights he stayed up to read Lord Byron to me, but I can’t help but think of the night on the stairs.

  “You’re right. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  Tristan’s gaze meets mine. The predatory look on his face sends a shockwave through me. A strange static charge goes off between us as his hand wraps around the back of my neck. I feel his thumb lazily skimming the side of my throat.

  “No, you most certainly are not.”

  Without thinking, I lean into his caress. The world seems to stop as the voices of the world fade into muffled chatter. I close my eyes, subc
onsciously leaning into Tristan. The heat of his hand grows more intense as each second passes. I hear the DJ change songs, but Tristan never changes pace. I feel his hand tugging mine and before I know it, we’re headed to the hallway adjacent to the bathrooms.

  He stops for a moment before pulling me into the women’s bathroom and locking the door behind us.

  “What are you doing to me?” he asks, cornering me against the cold tile wall.

  “Nothing.”

  The word tumbles breathlessly from my mouth. Tristan’s gaze trails down to the dip of my dress. The stall suddenly seems too small for the two of us.

  “Every time I look at you…”

  “What? Every time you look at me what?” I demand.

  “Every time I look at you, I can’t help but remember what you felt like wrapped around me. The thought of never knowing that feeling again destroys me. If I could cuff you to my bed and throw away the key, I would. I would never let you go.”

  I’m not sure if his words are supposed to sound threatening, but a shiver of excitement runs through me. I would willingly let him as long as he touched me.

  “Come here.”

  Tristan pulls me to him as he winds his hand through my ponytail. His lips collide with mine sending us both knocking into the wall. A mixture of pleasure and pain rockets through me as he tugs me closer by my hair.

  “Fuck, I need you right now.”

  “Yes,” I gasp as he breaks our connection.

  “Wait,” he rasps.

  “What?” I ask confused.

  “I can’t do this.”

  Anger ignites inside me at the sudden disconnect between us.

  “Stop looking at me like that. It only makes this harder,” he says.

  A rush of confidence circulates through me as I step forward, closing the space between us.

  “I want this.”

  A surprised look crosses Tristan’s face as I begin unzipping his pants. His hand stops me from going any further. The sudden shift in Tristan’s mood throws me off guard as he steps back putting an ocean between us. The static charge that I once felt at his touch dissipates as he lets me go.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have started this,” he says.

  A look of pain crosses his face as I feel him moving away from me. The loss of contact leaves me feeling strangely cold. I watch Tristan slip out of the bathroom leaving me alone. It doesn’t take long for Ceci to find me, and when she does, it takes all of my strength not to come clean about my history with Tristan.

  When I finally manage to clean my face up from crying, I find Tyler, the hot bartender, just walking out from his shift. Despite the anger that I feel, I force myself to smile and pull him on the dance floor with me. It isn’t long before I see Tristan leave and Nicholas on his way out the door with a blonde on his arm. I wish I could say good riddance, but Tristan’s the only person I want to be dancing with.

  TWENTY-TWO

  EMILY

  “YOU’RE BACK LATE,” a voice calls from the living room couch.

  The figure sitting on the other side of the room transfixes me. Despite the dimmed lights, I recognize the familiar silhouette.

  “Why are you still up?”

  A shiver vibrates through me as I step closer to Tristan’s silhouette.

  “I waited up for you, Lily Pad.”

  The words flow from his mouth in a sensual staccato. As much as I love hearing him call me Emily, I can’t help but miss the way he used to say my nickname. I flip on the living room light, and the sight of his smile immediately takes me back. It fills my body with a familiar ache. It’s the same feeling that I have felt each time I relive the moment his body entered mine.

  His eyes follow me as I step closer. What is he doing sitting in the dark? Tristan shifts as he toys with an empty glass in his hand. He watches me with a dark expression. It isn’t until I’m only a few feet away that I notice his hazel eyes are flooded with a look of pain.

  “What’s wrong?” I croak.

  His mood is strangely similar to the night of my birthday when he yelled at me in the kitchen for drinking champagne. I look down at the glass in his hand again. Has he been drinking? Tristan leans forward, and I catch sight of the way his black tee tightens around his chest and torso. My heart flutters at the way the fabric stretches across his skin, highlighting the cut of his muscles. I shouldn’t want him, but I do. The thought of sex used to bother me, but now it only excites me.

  “Did you sleep with the bartender,” Tristan asks, sliding his empty glass on the coffee table.

  His question stops me. His words both anger and confuse me. After telling Tyler that I wouldn’t go home with him, I told Ceci I was heading back to the beach house. Thankfully, there was a cab available to take me back. Despite my need to forget about Tristan touching me, I couldn’t fight the exhaustion that overwhelmed me after he left.

  “Well?”

  A serious look encompasses Tristan’s face as he walks over to me. Something about the way he moves reminds me of a lion stalking his prey.

  “You think you have the right to ask me that?” I counter.

  He steps toward me, but my palms stop him from coming any closer. My heart ricochets against my chest as he grabs my wrist and pulls it to his lips.

  “Ever since I saw Selena kiss you here,” he says pointing to my wrist. “I’ve wanted to mark you.”

  My fingers ache to touch Tristan. Foolishly, I give into the temptation of feeling his face. I reach up with my palm and caress his cheek. Ceci told me that when you fall in love with someone, you couldn’t imagine anything that would make you happier than to see them happy. That’s how I used to feel about Tristan. I would’ve done anything for him. Sadly, I never had the chance.

  “I’m going to go to bed,” I say, feeling my exhaustion take a hold of me.

  “Go then,” he snaps.

  I blink my way through the tears that threaten to pour out of me.

  “Fuck you.”

  I’m halfway to my room when I feel Tristan grab me and push me against the wall. His hands scorch my skin as he holds me in place.

  “You’re my plaything, nothing more,” he says with an icy gaze.

  His words sound surprisingly hollow.

  “If that were true, you would’ve fucked me already.”

  A look of shock covers his face as he reels backward. His gaze darkens before he quickly finds his composure.

  “You don’t think I’d fuck that little mouth of yours?”

  “Try me,” I laugh.

  “Why would I want your bartender’s leftovers?” he asks angrily.

  His words are like a kick in the chest. It takes all of my strength not to break down. Tears slips from my eyes as I try to hide my face in embarrassment. Tristan’s face falls at the sight of my tears. He steps forward to console me, but I keep my distance.

  “Fuck, Lily Pad, I’m sorry.”

  “Get away from me!”

  Tristan forces me to look up at him as he captures my chin. The look of raw lust on his face is enough to melt me where I stand. Despite the pain that radiates through my chest, I feel my anger dim and my desire take over. Tristan’s thumb wipes a tear that trickles down my cheek.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. You needed me, and I couldn’t stand being around you. It was too painful.”

  “I missed you so much,” my voice breaks. “Nicholas had you, but you distanced yourself from me. The only person I had besides Ceci was you, and you left without even a goodbye.”

  “Tell me how to fix this.”

  “You can’t.

  “I would do anything for you,” he says.

  It’s the one thing he can’t do that crushes me. I can’t make Tristan love me the way I love him.

  “Is it bad that I can’t stop thinking about touching you?” he asks.

  His confession fills me with bliss. If he only knew how much I want him to touch me. To kiss me. To be able to show him how he makes me feel.


  “Touch me,” I dare him.

  Tristan’s face snaps up at me with a look of shock. It’s as if I told him I’m the Loch Ness monster. My breath catches as his heated gaze slowly sweeps over every inch of me. My heart palpitates as he takes several steps toward me. I feel his palm slide up my shoulder and then to my cheek. His fingers tilt my chin up as he leans in and grinds his pelvis into me. Tristan reaches down and slowly lays his hand flat against me over my dress.

  “Is this what you want, little one?”

  “Yes,” I gasp as his fingers press into me.

  The feeling is enough to send my head spinning and my heart into cardiac arrest. The sound of my ragged breath only seems to entice Tristan to go further. To touch harder.

  “I’ll take any taste of you I can get.”

  My body hums at his confession. The slightest touch of his hand releases an unexpected moan from inside me. I bite back in embarrassment, but Tristan quickly makes me forget it as his hand grazes my cheek.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says in a strained voice. “I love the way your body responds to me.”

  I feel his thumb tracing the side of my lip in soft circles. He parts my lips and my tongue greedily licks his skin.

  “Has anyone else ever touched you this way?”

  Plenty of men have touched me, but not like this. Not the way he’s touching me.

  “No,” I admit.

  “Good.”

  Tristan moves his hand up my side, across my hip, and to my breast. His fingers roam up to my neck, and before I know it, I can feel them guiding me forward toward his bedroom. He closes the door behind us, locking it. I’m not sure where Ceci is, but I’m really glad Nicholas went home with the brunette on his arm.

  “Take off your clothes,” Tristan demands.

  A shiver of anxiety slices through me at the change in Tristan’s tone. I’m hesitant at first, but after several seconds, I feel him take charge as he slides off the dress I’m wearing. I tremble as a draft of cold air hits my skin. The sensation only makes me more aware of the awkwardness that I feel. Tristan’s eyes heat at the sight of my pink lace panties. I wasn’t sure about wearing them tonight, but now I’m glad I did.