Tristan swung his legs over the side of the couch and rose to his feet. “You didn’t. I wasn’t sleeping.” Solemn-faced, he crossed the room to stand in front of Sean. “Where were you all afternoon? I came home and waited for you right after I left the apartment in Brooklyn.”
His means of escape were cut off by Tristan, whose large frame blocked him, and there was no way around him without making it obvious that Sean was avoiding him.
Which, let’s face it, he was.
“It doesn’t matter. Did you take the apartment?”
“Why did you run away?”
“You didn’t answer my question. Did you take the apartment?” He shivered, and to his shock, Tristan pushed the wet strands of hair out of his eyes.
“Better get out of those wet clothes, or you’ll get sick.” Sean nearly swooned when Tristan trailed fingers down his cheek to the edge of his T-shirt. “Maybe you want some help?” Tristan’s fingertips skated over his damp tee, and his hand curled over Sean’s bicep.
“H-help?” Sean croaked, not sure what was happening, but whatever it was, he’d die if Tristan stopped touching him.
“Is that a call?” One side of Tristan’s mouth curved up in a tiny smirk. “Do you need a police officer to assist you?”
If this is another dream, please, please, please don’t let me wake up.
“I thought you were a detective,” Sean breathed, and Tristan stepped closer.
“And you’re a wiseass.” Tristan tugged the wet shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside. His eyes darkened until they glittered like chips of the most lustrous emeralds. “Better?”
So caught up in Tristan, Sean could only blink, and Tristan put his hands on his shoulders. “I was worried when you didn’t come home.”
“I-I went to the movies.” How was he supposed to concentrate with Tristan’s hands on his bare skin? Those rough fingers glided gently over his back, and he shivered again but not from the chill. Impossible, when he was burning up inside.
“What did you see?” Tristan bent his head to whisper in his ear in that rough, gravelly voice Sean had been dreaming of for days…weeks…ever since the moment he’d laid eyes on Tristan. All that soft hair tickled Sean’s cheek, and he inhaled the delicious scent of Tristan’s skin, rubbing up against the rasp of his scruff.
“Are you kidding me? Who the hell remembers. Or cares,” Sean gritted out, and then he couldn’t stop himself. He grasped Tristan around the neck and pressed their lips together.
Heaven and earth collided. His core split open to release the pent-up flames boiling within. The heat of Tristan’s mouth on his set off a delicious ache, and Sean moaned when the tip of Tristan’s tongue touched his.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and when Tristan cupped his ass, shifting them closer, Sean’s grip on reality slipped. Tristan’s kiss grew demanding, his mouth hard yet incredibly tender, and Sean clung to him, deepening their kiss. Tristan was hard and huge and Sean wanted him. He reached for the waistband of Tristan’s shorts.
“What’s that?” Tristan growled, and Sean blinked to awareness to feel a vibration in his pants.
“Wha—it’s just my phone.” He slid it out of his jeans and sawChadpop up on the screen. With a grunt, he tossed it toward the sofa. “Forget it.”
But Tristan must’ve seen the name as well. “Chad? Isn’t that your ex?” He drew back, face still flushed, lips red and swollen, but his eyes narrowed. “Is that where you were? With him?”
“No. I mean, yeah, I went to see him, but—”
“But nothing. I knew this was wrong.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sean said, frustrated. “Wrong?”
But that now-familiar stony facade Sean hated reappeared. “You obviously still have feelings for him, and I’m not going to get involved in that.”
The ups and downs of the day were beginning to give Sean a headache; plus, he hadn’t eaten anything aside from a bagel in the morning and some popcorn. His pants and socks were uncomfortably wet, and while he would’ve preferred to get undressed with Tristan and continue what they’d started, he knew a whole lot of talking had to happen if they were going to ever get to that point.
“I don’t. Not in the way you think. Listen. Can I change and then we order something to eat before we talk?”
As he spoke, Tristan retreated to the other side of the apartment. “Nothing to talk about.”
“Fine. You’ll listen. But I haven’t eaten anything since this morning and I’m starving. I can’t concentrate when I’m hungry, and I really do have to change out of these wet clothes. Okay?”
Tristan shrugged and folded his arms. “Do what you have to do.”
