Giving myself a mental thumbs-up, I turned and yelped. He was right freaking there, invading my space and staring at me with a way too serious expression on his face.
“She wasn’t you,” he stammered. “I told her she wasn’t. She could never be—”
A sharp unwelcome pang shot through my ribs. The rest of his words faded away, and one single thought consumed me. He didn’t have plans with Rafe like he’d said; he’d been with another woman.
It shouldn’t have bothered me. Shouldn’t have hurt. Our marriage was nothing more than a signed piece of paper. And yet, I couldn’t ignore the sting of betrayal. He’d had his mouth on mine a little more than twenty-four hours ago, his hands on my body even less than that, and when I’d asked him to stay, he’d said no.
Because he wanted to be with someone else.
This, this right here, was the reason why I should’ve never gotten involved with him in the first place.
“I’ll get you an Uber.” Despite the ache inside my bones, my tone was flat.
I shimmied to the right to move around him, but as I was about to step forward, he slammed his hand down on the door next to my head. Before I could even think about shifting to the left, he brought up his other hand, trapping me.
“Tris—”
“I’m not leaving.” His gaze searched mine, dark irises becoming less glassy with every ticking second. “She wasn’tyou. I didn’t touch her because she wasn’t you.”
I shut my eyes, squeezing my lids together. The band around my heart pulled tighter. If only he’d stop mentioning the other woman. If only he’d leave.
Those thoughts were still at the forefront of my mind when the delicate swipe of his thumb over my cheek stole my attention. He was so gentle; it made my chest ache.
More confusion swirled through my veins, fast and furious.
Tristan Blake had not only effortlessly scaled the wall I’d built around myself all those years ago, he’d burrowed himself so deep beneath my skin I’d never get him out.
“Will you look at me?”
At his whispered words, I slowly pried my lids apart. His painfully beautiful face was right there. So close if I rolled onto my toes, I’d be able to press my mouth to his stubbly jaw. The ferocity with which I’d wanted to do just that scared the crap out of me.
“Why are you here?” I finally asked.
His eyes, dark and intense, roamed over my face for what felt like an eternity.
“I can’t shake you,” he said. “It’s a mess up here”—he tapped two fingers against his temple—“scrambled and out of control. And in the middle of it all, there’s you. You fucking own me, Kate.”
I knew better than to latch on to the ramblings of a drunk man. Even if those ramblings caused nothing but chaos inside my body.
That was why I ignored the raving butterflies and the disco thump of my heart. I didn’t pay any attention to the goosebumps littering my skin or the desperate urge to slide my hand behind his neck and tug those lips to mine.
“Tristan,” I said firmly. “You’re drunk.”
Squinting his eyes, he cocked his head slightly. “You’re gorgeous.”
Not entirely pleased with how his words were affecting me, I carefully extracted myself from his cage and headed for the living room.
Of course he followed.
With a slight wobble, he took a few steps then had to throw an arm out to steady himself. A hand scraped down his face while a heavy sigh blew over his lips.
“I’m...drunk.”
“Yes. We’ve already established that,” I agreed. “You need a bed, and maybe some water and aspirin.”
Pinching one eye shut, he rocked back on his heels while his gaze slowly traveled across the room. “Hmm. Sounds good.”
I’d figured that was his way of saying goodbye, but he didn’t move.
