“I’ve never seen a coo. My life is so small.”
“Not so small now. You live in a gaming club,” he said.
“Adjacent to a gaming club,” she retorted.
They laughed and grew silent again. She grabbed his hand, her bare skin touching his. At some point she’d removed her gloves, and he hadn’t noticed. Tingling heat spread up his arm at her touch and he couldn’t pull away.
“Thank you, Tristan. For seeing me. For being there tonight, and every moment before. I don’t think I could do any of this without you.”
He swallowed, his mouth going dry. “It is my honor.” And she might be his downfall. He couldn’t lose himself in an infatuation with a woman he couldn’t have. All his focus needed to be on working off the debt to regain his home. But he’d already fallen, hadn’t he?
With a whisper of clothing, she leaned forward, and her lips brushed his cheek. If he hadn’t been achingly aware of her, he could have missed the featherlight touch. He closed his eyes, blocking out all his others sense so he could feel her better.
“Flick, you don’t have to...” But he wanted her to. He couldn’t cross this line himself, but he’d have to be dead to resist her.
Her fingertips touched his lips. “I know I don’t. I want to. I want you to know how much your friendship means to me.”
His gut tightened. Friendship? She still believed what was between them was friendship. Couldn’t she feel the fire between them? The flames of desire were licking at his skin, yearning melting his resolve and... He was already forgetting what he should be doing right now. Her fingertips fluttered over his lips, his chin, and then along his jaw. She cupped his cheek, her fingernails scratching against the shadow of his beard. He bit back a groan. Just her touch made him hard.
Longing tore at his insides. He reined it in, willing his body to move—to step back before he ruined this delicate web of trust between them.
Her mouth touched his, petal soft lips pressing slowly to mold to his mouth. Tristan froze, all focus on that single touch. She kissed him for the count of four heartbeats, and then she moved back. Tristan locked his arms at his sides to keep from reaching for her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He almost laughed. “Sorry? For what.” His only regret would be the wicked things he’d imagine now that he knew the feel of her lips when he took himself in hand tonight.
“I shouldn’t have. I—”
He caught her flailing hand and gave it a light squeeze. “No apology is needed. To be honest, I’m surprised.”
“So am I,” she said with relief. “I don’t know what came over me. Tonight was going so well, and then...” He knew she was remembering Trent.
“I hope it ended on a better note, but if it didn’t, please spare my fragile masculinity and lie to me.”
She turned away, pressing her back against the wall and let out a small breathy laugh. “I hope we can forget this moment. I’m not myself.”
Tristan inwardly groaned. He’d never forget this. He’d think of her lips on his deathbed. “There is nothing to forget. It was a small kiss. A comfort, really. Like a hug.”
“It was?”
She sounded so relieved. He nodded, the lie seeping into his blackened soul. He ached for her—for more of her mouth, her tongue, her taste. He willed his growing erection to reverse itself and thanked the dark for its shelter.
“Still, I feel I should not have done it.”
“Regrets already? Was it that horrible?” Tristan teased.
She shook her head at him and then laughed softly. “No. In fact, it was my first kiss.”
That stunned him and made his heart soar. “Truly?”
“It was. I’m glad it was you. Someone I can trust.”
Her trust was everything to him. He yanked hard on the reins of his lust. This was Flick, not some woman of passing interest. “I’m glad, too. Come on, it’s time to get you to bed.”
“I don’t think I can sleep.”
“Ask for a tonic from Milly. It will help you forget tonight.”
