I sucked in a breath and let my brain run away with ideas and emotions. Little pieces of reality seemed to settle into the aftermath that his words left, the fragments cemented together, piecing a puzzle that had done nothing but confuse me for long weeks. The reality of Zoey's words just earlier in the day seemed like such a possibility all of a sudden.
My hands went up aimed for the back of his neck. There they met with soft, thick hair. I used my palms to pull his head down to me without allowing myself to think. Down, down... I pressed my lips against both of his, my cold ones onto his warmer ones. A warm, electric shock zipped up the length of my spine in response. I kissed his full, upper lip with a peck next. Without a second thought, I kissed that pouty bottom lip with both of mine and pulled away to enjoy the current that was still running through my back at our touch.
Tristan stood there with his lips slightly parted and his face pale. "Kat," he said breathlessly after a second without moving his mouth.
My pulse raced in my veins as I took in the look on his face, which resembled more of a mask than anything else. He didn't move an inch for a few moments, making me start to doubt the interpretation I'd taken from his words. Of course, he could have been thinking of me all the time, but maybe because he felt guilty? Or, maybe he missed me for some other reason? Oh my god, I was such an asshole. "Tristan, I'm so sorry—," I started to say, taking a step backward.
Before I could take another step he smashed his lips against mine. Smooth, warm, full flesh pressed against me so abruptly I couldn't think straight. I couldn't get passed the idea that Tristan, my Magellan, was using the perfect lips I'd been eyeing for weeks against mine.
He pulled back just an inch with his peppermint breath heavy on my skin as he head shifted, so that his lips brushed my ear in the most erotic action of my life. "You need to open that sweet mouth for me."
He'd barely completed his sentence before my lips fell apart, and then Tristan was there. His velvet tongue dipped into me, caressing my own so sensually I would've cum in my pants if I were a guy. One mouth slanted against the other, and there was no way I could've known whose did what. I only knew that his tongue stroked mine deeply, and that for the lack of a better explanation, it could only be described as fucking awesome. Tristan's hands gripped my waist tightly, fingers digging into the meaty flesh over my hips. I could feel the pressure on my lower back as he pulled me to him.
It was when he started sucking my bottom lip between his that I reached up to grab two handfuls of auburn hair, thinking to myself that his taste was as addictive as caffeine. I moaned against the heat of his mouth when he crushed my breasts against his chest so tightly it kind of hurt. "Kat," he groaned after he stroked his tongue across the corner of my mouth.
"Dang, Kat! Get! That!" a squeaky voice whooped from down the hall.
If Tristan's lips, tongue, and even his saliva weren't practically miraculous, I may have given a shit at being caught by my neighbor. I didn't even bother to step away from him, instead I just turned my head to look at Christy, my thirty-something neighbor who claimed to have slept with half of the professional athletes in the city. "I would have if you wouldn't have killed the moment," I laughed, feeling the fingers on my hips loosen their grip.
Christy laughed loudly before unlocking the door to her apartment with a wink. "You get some of that for the both of us, girl!" Fortunately, her dark mop of hair disappeared into the apartment a second later.
I looked up at Tristan, who was still standing so closely our chests were pressed together. His cheeks were pulled back into a lazy smirk, but it was his eyes that showed blazing, pure intensity beneath the green. "That wasn't exactly the way I envisioned things happening," he said in a husky voice that managed to affect my uterus.
I blushed and tried to will my brain to think of what to do next since standing in the hallway making out didn't seem like the best idea. "Come inside," I told him, pulling away from his hands to reach for my purse and bag of food.
He grabbed my bags before I did and nodded, smiling and silent. The door was unlocked faster than ever — even the times when I was at the brink of peeing my pants — and we were in my home and on the couch a moment later, sitting next to each other. I was nervous and my lips felt a little chafed from brushing against the scruff of his facial hair. Tristan shifted a few inches over so his muscular thigh pressed against the side of mine, his eyes focused on my face. Rummaging through the bag, I handed him one of the two chalupas waiting to be devoured while I opened mine up. "So, Mag, about that out there..."
A breath of air was sucked in harshly. "Please tell me you don't regret it," he whispered at the end of the inhale.
Was he freaking serious? It would have been easy to play it cool and try to make it seem like our game of tonsil hockey a second ago was perfectly normal but it wasn't. It definitely wasn't normal, and after my up-close and personal encounter with that mouth, it would be pointless and too hard to pretend like there wasn't something there. Something massive, electric, and heavy. This was exactly what Zoey had been trying to tell me to do: make my move.
I leaned into his warm frame and looked up at him from under my eyelashes. "I don't regret it."
Tristan sucked in a ragged breath, shifting his body so that his back nestled into the corner of the couch. His glowing green gaze was steady and wide on me, making my heart rate speed up tenfold. "Would you regret it if I kissed you again?"
I should have told him that we needed to talk about what had just happened; that I deserved to know when he started feeling something for me, when he started missing me the way that he had but I didn't though. Those perfect lips that millions of women paid to recreate were just inches away from my face. I'd tasted those lips, that mouth, that tongue, and I hoped to God I'd be lucid enough to remember to talk to him about everything later. Right then was not the time, and he must have sensed my decision because we both leaned into each other like two impossible magnets meeting out of necessity in the middle.
His lips were on mine. Hot, velvet, and sweet lapped at me with more passion than I could ever comprehend. Tristan sucked my tongue into his mouth, and I moaned in a way that would make Zoey blush. My skin was covered in a feverish rush of blood and the sugary, clean scent that was Tristan. His hands were on my hips, and my hands were trying to pull chalupas off our laps because all I wanted right then was to sit on his face. But I'd settle for his lap.
"Fuck," I groaned into the air when he peeled his mouth off me to trail wet kisses across my jawline then neck. "Oh my...." I stuttered out when his tongue moved to lap against my throat before his lips sucked gently on the sensitive skin there.Fucking shit. Fucking shit. Fucking shit. I didn't know what the hell I was doing with my hands at my sides, maybe just opening and closing my fists with each kiss because I was so caught up in him.
Tristan's hands gripped my hips tightly as he pulled me toward him. I wanted to look at the muscles bunching in his forearms, but it was hard enough to remember to breathe when his mouth latched onto various pulse points on my throat. "So good," he mumbled against my skin, so low that I could barely hear him through the rush of blood in my ears.
"Holy..." I whimpered some other unintelligible words as he switched sides to kiss the other side of my neck. His big hands tugged at my waist again, trying to get me over and closer to his lap. I let him roll me so I shifted onto my knees, leaning over him slightly.
One of his hands brushed over my lower back while the other one kept its steady grip on my waist. He was groaning words onto my skin, words I couldn't understand and only partially wanted to. He could've been reciting the alphabet backward for all I knew, or calling me a whore in ten different languages, but when his mouth kept up a trail of open-mouthed kisses across the span of my throat, I heard him groan out my name. My hands had a mind of their own finally and placed themselves on his broad chest for support as he pecked slow kisses on the corners of my mouth like I had done to him just moments before. Warm breath clouded over my flesh as he pulled away with his fingers kneading my hips.
"Jesus," I whimpered when he left wet kisses across my cheeks.
I could hear him chuckle softly, "I know," in the huskiest voice I'd ever heard in my life.
After a moment of trying to catch my breath, I pulled back just a little to look at his face. His eyes were already locked on mine so intensely it felt like he knew the answer to every question in the world. Those long fingered hands slid their way up from my hips, over my ribcage, shoulders, neck, and then face, cupping me gently. That crooked grin spread across his lower face, creating a burst of light that erupted from him. "You are so pretty," he purred, brushing his thumbs over the apple of each of my cheeks.
I didn't want to say 'thank you' because that seemed too forward, so I smiled at him instead while trying to express through my face how much I just enjoyed the mouth-fuck we'd just shared. He beamed at me in return and exhaled loudly all over my face. It didn't escape me that I should have been happy as hell that neither one of us had eaten the Taco Bell beforehand for fear of having terrible breath but seriously. I totally would have done it again even if he suffered from halitosis, the god-awful breath disease.
Long moments passed between me sitting up on my knees while he sat straight up, hunched in my direction before we both relaxed against the back of the sofa, keeping our eyes on each other in silence. I had no idea what I wanted to talk to him about since the only thing I could think of was the fact that I had goosebumps all over me. My stomach was in knots — with my luck a gordian knot — trying to accept and come to terms with the last few minutes. It almost didn't feel real. Someone somewhere decided a long time ago that Kat Berger didn't have luck like that, and I'd come to terms with it. The thing was, that this — Tristan and I — felt so real, there was no way it wasn't. The shock that coursed through my veins every time he touched me with his hands or mouth wasn't natural.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," his rough voice murmured over the silence of the apartment. He had his head resting on the back of the couch while keeping his eyes on me, fingertips grazing mine. "I didn't know how to."
