She walked toward them, running her fingers gently over the full tables. When she reached the curtains, she pulled one back, and gasped as she took in the stark beauty of the gray sky, falling snow, and the white-crested waves of the ocean.
“Tristan?” She asked, turning her gaze back to him, “What is this place?”
Tristan stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and dropped a kiss on her neck.
“This is yours,” he replied, drawing the tip of his nose up her neck. “Your studio. Your alone place. It is whatever you wish it to be. Whenever you need a moment to get away from anyone or anything, this is where I hope you will go.”
Emotion welled in Ophelia’s throat as she turned in his arms. Tristan was not trying to bend her to his idea of perfection. It washethat was bending toward hers. She reached toward his face, delicately tracing the planes of his handsome features.
“Thank you,” she whispered, drawing her fingertips delicately over his chiseled lips. “For seeing me.”
His brows lifted as a smile formed on his lips.
“Thank you. For choosing me,” he whispered against her fingertips.
Tears pricked at Ophelia’s eyes as she leaned up on her toes and kissed him, her heart ebbing and full. Her body shuddered with need as their kiss deepened, and her trembling fingertips slipped from Tristan’s face down to his cravat. He made no move to stop her as she untied it, but instead drew the fur cloak away from her shoulders.
“I do not want to wait until tomorrow,” she rasped between kisses as her fingers worked to undo his buttons.
A deep, masculine groan poured from Tristan’s throat as his hands tightened on her waist.
“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice full of aching need.
It had been nearly two months since their last time together at the masquerade. Two months of fevered dreams and fantasies, and Ophelia had had enough of them. She wanted therealTristan. She pulled away from his kiss, a sinful smirk on her lips as she pushed his jacket away from his shoulders.
“Please do not make me repeat myself, Lord Perfect, I have made my request.”
Tristan smirked, then tsked his tongue as he shook his head.
“Always have to things your way, don’t you?” He teased, letting his jacket drop to the floor.
“You will have to accept that,” Ophelia said with a saucy shrug.
“Gladly,” Tristan retorted, then grabbed her throat to pull her in for another deep, dizzying kiss.
Tristan removed Ophelia’s dress slowly, kissing over every newly expanse of bared flesh until she was pulsing with need. With the fur cloak beneath them, Tristan slowly eased her down to the floor before the roaring fireplace, and worshipped her body. He kissed along her throat, her clavicle, then down to her aching breasts.
She nearly cried with need as he drew her taut nipple into his mouth, and lavished them with attention until she whimpering and begging him to continue. Somewhere during his tease Tristan removed his own clothing, and by the time he nestled his broad shoulders between her legs, he was as bare as she was.
“Oh, God, I have missed you,” he groaned, sealing his mouth over her sex.
Ophelia’s back arched and her hands fisted the fur beneath her as his tongue sent volts of pleasure throughout her body.
“I have missed you,” she confessed, her lashes fluttering as every skilled lick drove her closer to bliss, “I have missed you so much.”
“Show me,” his voice, thick with need, commanded from between her legs.
Her body obeyed instantly, driving itself over the precipice of pleasure with a quickness that left her quivering and delightfully dizzy. She screamed his name, dug her fingernails into his back, and pleaded for him not to stop as wave after wave of pleasure hit her.
Tristan kissed his way up her body as she trembled in the aftermath of her release until she felt his pulsing, rigid length rest against her pulsing mons.
“Are you sure?” He rasped a final time as she felt his tip line up against her wet entrance.
“Please,” was all she could muster as she dug her nails into his back.
“Open your eyes, Ophelia,” he whispered, grazing kissing along her cheeks, “I want to see you.”
With effort, Ophelia pushed through the haze of pleasure and opened her eyes, immediately locking in on Tristan’s dilated, dazed gaze. She quivered with the intensity she found there, and the tight grip on his back softened to a caress.
