I fell asleep like that, pressed into his chest—warm, comforted, whole—and didn’t wake up until morning, when my eyes opened to find myself tangled up with him on the couch, his breath coming in deep, soothing waves.
It was the most innocent, yet the most intimate, night I’d ever spent with a man.
Chapter 21
In the morning after we’d each showered, Tristan offered to walk me to work, and I accepted happily.
“To what do I owe this honor?” I asked. It wasn’t lost on me that twenty-four hours earlier I’d thought our entire relationship had met its bitter end.
“I just want to know you’re safe,” he said as we made our way towards the nearest coffee shop to get something hot to drink. “After what happened last night, I’d like to keep my eyes on you as much as possible.”
“Thanks,” I told him. “It’s weird, you know, I’d almost forgotten about the intruder in our apartment.”
“Well, try not to forget. He’s dangerous, but his leader is far more so.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, eyeing the pastries in the shop window. “Listen, about what we talked about last night…”
Tristan turned my way and threw me a reassuring smile that melted my insides. “Last night’s discussion is forgotten, unless you want to talk about it. I won’t press you on any of it. But I should tell you that I’m glad you opened up to me. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”
“No, it wasn’t. But…thanks.” We stepped into the café, and I walked towards the counter to order a latte.
“By the way, I’ve let your friends at the theater in on the news,” Tristan said, slipping a hand around my waist when I’d talked to the barista.
“The news? ”
“That you accepted my proposition. The theater. You know—that place where you work.”
“Oh, holy crap,” I said, turning to look into his eyes. “You know, with everything that’s happened in the last day or so, I’d all but forgotten about that, too.”
My life had become insane and wonderful, and I had no idea how I’d gotten to this point.
“I’m still not sure I deserve it,” I told him. “Besides, like I said, I don’t know how to run a theater. Are you sure about this? I won’t be offended if you take back the offer. I mean, I’ll be disappointed and probably punch you in the jaw. But I won’t be offended.”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. Besides which…” he said, stepping over to a nearby table where a newspaper was sitting. He picked it up and flipped it around to show me. “There’s this to take into consideration.”
A photograph of my face, taken from our season brochure, stared back at me, along with the headline,
Local Set Designer In Works to Renovate Old Venezia Theater Alongside Philanthropist Tristan Wolfe.
I nearly dropped the latte I was holding in my right hand.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasped, seeing my eyes staring back at me from the newsprint. “This is…not good.”
“Why not?” he asked, flipping the paper back around to take a look. “I think it’s a great photo. I mean, it doesn’t show off those perfect tits of yours, but…”
I stepped forward and smacked his arm. “I’m serious, Tristan!” I said. My blood pressure had just jumped a hundred and fifty percent, and sweat was beginning to bead on my back. I lowered my voice to a hoarse whisper. “What if…what if someone I used to know sees it?”
“Ah,” Tristan said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “Do you think there’s a chance of that?”
“Well, Jack and my mother are not exactly the kind of people who are likely to read the Times. Still, I should have thought of that before I agreed to go public.” I ground my jaw. “I should have asked you to keep it quiet. I’m such an idiot.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tristan said. “It’s mine. I should have told your colleagues to keep it secret. As a precaution, though, we should probably make you a little scarce after opening night tomorrow. Maybe you should come stay with me for a few days.”
“Really?” I asked. The thought of it made me just a little too happy. Then again, I’d tried staying with him once already, and it hadn’t exactly gone swimmingly.
Of course, I hadn’t known then what I knew now.
He slipped forward and put his arms around me, taking care not to crush my drink against my body. “I want to look after you,” he said. “Not in the sexist you’re too weak to look after yourself way, either. I just want to have you near me.”
“I know,” I replied, the words vibrating into his chest. “I know you just want to protect me. You’re my…”
I wanted to call him my wolf. But that would have made me sound pretty insane to any passerby who happened to hear. His secret was even more crucial to keep close to the chest than mine was, if it was possible. I could never let anyone know who—or what—Tristan really was. For one thing, they’d lock me up in an institution. There was no way the public at large would ever believe that the handsome bachelor they loved to speculate about was actually a part-time lupine.
“Listen,” he said, ignoring the confused look on my face. “Speaking of spending time together, are you busy after work today?”
“No,” I told him, pulling back to look into his eyes and reassure myself that everything was right with the world. “Why? What’s up?” I didn’t dare hope that we could finally have a normal evening together, one where we weren’t interrupted by battles or misunderstandings, or shifters barging through the door to try and rip my face off.
“There’s something I want to show you.”
I pulled my chin down and threw him a what the hell look. “Really, Tristan? Um, last time you said that, it didn’t end well,” I chastised.
He laughed. “True. But this time won’t involve a plane. Or secrets.”
“Promise?”
“Well, okay, maybe some secrets. But I’ll tell you anything you need to know, how’s that?”
“Okay, fine. Meet me at the theater at six, then, and I’ll go wherever you want with you.” I looked down at my clothes—a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt. “Is this okay to wear on our secret outing? I mean, I could go home and change…”
“This is perfect,” he told me, pulling at the front of my shirt. “You look sexy in anything.” He lifted my right hand to his lips, kissed it, then we began the short walk over to the theater.
As we trudged along, I took a sip of my latte and wondered when, if ever, I’d get to kiss those lips of his. He hadn’t tried anything last night, hadn’t seen me naked in what felt like days now. For all we’d managed to divulge to each other over the last fourteen or so hours, we hadn’t talked about the status of our relationship. Had we somehow gone from lovers to good friends? Were we work colleagues now, or just allies among those who resided somewhere deep within New York’s dark underbelly?
But when Tristan reached for my hand, I had my answer. He wouldn’t walk down the street holding the hand of a woman he regarded as nothing more than a friend. Tristan Wolfe was too famous a man to do such a thing in public.
Before our first kiss had come, we’d unofficially become boyfriend and girlfriend, and I felt genuinely, sustainably happy for the first time in recent memory. Happy to have him in my life. Happy to feel like I might have a future to look forward to. A career to advance.
Happy to have let the ghosts and shadows that had haunted me for so long leave me last night, to flit off into the ether.
For the first time in my adult life, I felt…free.
* * *
By six p.m., the actors were working through their last dress rehearsal on stage. The director, Doug, occasionally shouted last-minute commands at them, which were totally cracking me up.
Be more sincere, you noodle loaf!
Look at her like you mean it, not like she’s a toxic swamp person!
Don’t move around the stage like a gorilla on Xanax!
I was seated in the audience, watching the last run-th
rough of the last play that the Venezia would put on before I took over as owner. The last play before this place would change forever.
When my eyes scanned the set, a deep sense of accomplishment filled me as it always did to see that I’d designed a small, pretty world for the actors to inhabit for a few short weeks. I’d drafted the drawings, the crew had built it, then I’d toiled over the bulk of the paint job—something most set designers weren’t expected to do. But I couldn’t help myself. I did it because I loved it. It felt good to be a part of something bigger than myself.
The cast had greeted me happily that afternoon, excited to learn of Tristan’s gift to me. A couple of the actresses—and one of the male actors—had asked about him. One young woman in particular was wide-eyed about it. “I saw in the paper that you’re dating him!” she’d chirped. Only when she’d said those words did I realize that I hadn’t actually read the article. I supposed Tristan must have told someone at the theater that we were an item—which wasn’t a bad thing. I wasn’t exactly embarrassed to be dating the sexiest man alive.
Now, watching the rehearsal, a renewed sense of affection filled me for the cast and crew of my theater. Knowing we’d be able to stay together for the foreseeable future was the best gift Tristan could have given me.
As I sat and watched, I felt someone slip up behind me and lean forward, his hot breath tickling my neck in a way that filled me with immediate desire.
“Hello, beautiful,” whispered Tristan.
“Hello,” I replied as I turned to look at him, for once letting my smile spread to its full, euphoric glory. He looked so damn good. He’d changed into a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt that hugged his body like a second skin. It also reminded me that I’d still never seen that torso of his without a shirt covering it up. I could only hope to get my eyes on it very, very soon.
“Are you ready to head out?” he asked.
I nodded. “Very ready,” I said. I looked down at my jeans and cotton shirt again. “I still feel weird about being dressed so casually, though.”
“You’re perfect,” he said. “But do you have your jacket with you? It might get drafty where we’re going…”
I nodded. “In one of the dressing rooms. I’ll grab it.”
“I’ll come with you,” he replied.
We made our way out a side exit and slipped down a narrow hallway towards the nearby row of dressing rooms. I turned in to the first one on the left, Tristan close behind. As I stared ahead, I could see his reflection in the mirror lining the wall, reminding me of the last time we’d been in a room like this.
He shut the door, locking it with one quick gesture that sent another wave of desire crashing over me.
“I’m not wearing any overalls for you to unbutton,” I said, spinning around to look at him.
“No, and that’s a damned shame,” he replied. “Still, I’d be willing to bet I could find something on your body that I could undo easily enough.”
“Don’t we have to leave?” I asked, laughing.
He laid his hands on my waist. To my shock and awe, he lifted and carried me a few feet to the dressing table, where he set me down gently.
“Holy crap, you’re strong,” I said. I’d never realized quite how powerful he was, though in retrospect, he’d given me plenty of hints.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he laughed. “As for leaving, we have a few minutes yet before we have to go. The thing is, I’ve been thinking all day about the things I wanted to do to you last night. The things I wanted to do this morning, too,” he breathed, moving in close. Pushing my hair out of his way, he trailed kisses down my neck, slipping down to move on to my breast, his teeth nipping ever so gently at my nipple through my shirt and bra.
“Have you really been thinking about me all day?” I asked, my voice tight with need. “Like, what specifically?”
“Like this,” he said, quickly lifting my shirt upwards and yanking the delicate lace of my bra down with his hands, exposing both breasts as I let out a gasp of shock and delight. Hungrily, he took one nipple into his mouth, then the other, lashing at me gently with his tongue. I arched my back in offer, savoring the sensation of his expert touch, and unsure of quite how I’d gone from learning last night that he was a creature with magical powers to making out with him in a dressing room.
Life comes at you fast, I thought, writhing with pleasure.
So fast, yet not fast enough.
I wanted more.
I placed my hands on either side of his jaw and pulled his face up.
“Kiss me,” I said, drawing his gaze to mine. “I so want you to kiss me, Tristan Wolfe, and I don’t think I can stand waiting another minute.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’m so damn sure. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
For a second he looked like he was hesitating, but then his lips collided with mine, his tongue driving its way to my own.
The world dropped out from under me when we connected at last. I was grateful to be sitting down, fire blazing in intense, scorching waves inside my body. Everything surged and moved, a dizzy headiness overtaking me like my entire life was only now beginning to make sense for the first time.
Tristan slipped his hands underneath my backside and scooped me up, our lips still locked, bodies pressing hard together. I could feel the throb of our sexes against one another, so frustratingly close, yet so far away…as we always seemed to be. Yet the tease was so good that I never wanted it to end. Never wanted to stop feeling so near to eternal perfection.
It was in that moment that I realized with a dose of stark, icy fear that I never wanted to lose him.
He must have felt the same way, because he held me close, even when our kiss had finally come to its end, and pressed his forehead to mine.
“I’ve wanted to do that from the first,” he said. “From the moment I saw you sitting at that table alone, a few nights back. I’ve never desired anything so much as I’ve wanted your beautiful lips on mine. It’s been the hardest thing in the world to hold back, Ariana.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, unable to come up with a more poetic response. “It’s killed me to resist you as much as I have—not that I’ve really resisted, mind you. I don’t think I could. You have some magical power over me, Wolfe.”
“Wolfe,” he repeated, smiling. “My name is such a fucking giveaway, isn’t it? Yet I suppose it’s not at all.”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “I knew you were something special. I just didn’t know what. I can’t say that a wolf would have been the first thing on my mind.”
“Well, now you know almost everything about me. But there’s still one thing left undone,” he told me, easing my feet down to the floor. His unreal blue eyes shone bright under the dressing room bulbs, piercing my flesh straight to my core. Sensual, seductive wolf. “Something I want to do soon, when the time is right. When you’re ready for me.”
“I assume that you’re talking about sex?” I asked. “You know, you’re pretty old-fashioned, Tristan. Most men expect it on the first date nowadays. You’ve been very patient. Of course, so have I.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not a question of patience. When I bond with you, I want it to be everything you deserve. I want you to understand how serious I am about you. I want you to feel it with every fiber of your being.”
Sex with Tristan was beginning to sound like a solemn rite. I’d never met a man who took it so seriously.
I was beginning to wonder if all the rumors about him with supermodels had been exaggerated. Maybe he had been seen on dates with them, but it was starting to seem entirely possible that he’d never actually had sex with any of them.
Still, I didn’t ask. Nothing ruined a mood like delving into your lover’s past sexual exploits with gorgeous women.
All I wanted to think about was the future.
“Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “I’ll kiss those lips more later. R
ight now, we have somewhere we need to go. ”
Chapter 22
We walked over to the Washington Square Station and hopped on the Orange line towards Flushing Meadows. I considered asking Tristan why we were taking public transit when he was richer than God, but I’d learned by now that there was always a reason behind his actions. If we were on a train, it was because he had something in mind.
The subway was crowded as usual for this hour, but I wasn’t about to complain about being pressed up against my boyfriend, who kept a roving hand on some part of me at all times. Each time I looked at him, I caught his blue eyes staring at me, a funny little smile on those sexy-as-hell lips of his. It was all I could do not to kiss him every two minutes. I wanted to make out like teenagers and annoy everyone around us.
It took me a little while to realize that even though we were restraining ourselves from a total tonsil-hockey-fest, other riders were staring in our direction. Occasionally I’d catch sight of a woman gawking at Tristan, or someone snapping a photo of us both on a smartphone. I wondered how many shots of our bodies mashed together would end up on social media tonight. But somehow, I’d ceased to care. There were worse things than being seen in public with the world’s most perfect man. It wasn’t like most of these people knew who I was, anyhow. It was only their fascination with my lover that made them click obsessively.
“Do you want me to ask them to delete the pictures?” Tristan asked me. He’d all but read my mind, as usual.
“Nah,” I replied. “Let them have their fun. If I were them, I’d want a pic of you too.”
“You can have all the photos of me you’d like,” he said before laying a longer-than-is-decent kiss on my lips. “But I’d rather you have the real thing.”
“Me too.”
By the time we’d travelled several stops, the car had emptied out somewhat and a few empty seats stared invitingly at us.
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