I shake my head, trying to ignore the way my heart hammers in my chest.
Tristan adjusts his position on the chair. “Alright, now lean against me.”
My cheeks are so hot they must be as red as an apple. I hesitantly lean against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around my waist in a firm yet gentle hold. The scent of his musky cologne surrounds me, and I can’t help but take a deep breath, letting it fill my senses.
Fuck, he smells so good.
“See?” he whispers into my ear, his breath tickling my skin. “It’s kind of nice, huh?”
“Sure,” I mumble, trying to ignore the way my body reacts to his closeness. My heart races, and my palms become clammy.
Tristan chuckles softly. “You don’t have much experience, do you?”
My cheeks burn. I have much more experience than he seems to think I have, but nothing like this.
My body has never felt so…ignited by the touch of anyone else.
I don’t like it.
He brushes his fingers down my arm. “Nothing wrong with that.” I hear the smile in his voice. “We all have to start somewhere.”
I nod, swallowing. The warmth of Tristan’s body against mine is both comforting and unnerving.
“Alright,” he murmurs, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. “Let’s move a bit closer, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper, the word barely audible as I slide closer to him until our bodies are pressed together.
Tristan leans in and brushes his mouth against my cheek. It’s so brief, but the sensation sends shivers down my spine, making me gasp.
His eyes lock on mine, and they’re a molten blue, like the heart of a flame. He moves closer and kisses the corner of my mouth.
His lips press hard against mine, and the heat of his touch sears my skin. I’m being consumed by fire, every pass of his lips leaving me struggling for breath.
I want to give in, to become part of him, but something distant tells me to pull away.Not him. Not Tristan.
But I can’t pull away. Not when his delicious tongue is massaging mine. Not when the deep groans that vibrate from his chest send electricity from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes.
He pulls away, gasping. Immediately, his lips return to my cheek. He presses soft kisses down to my neck. “Oh, Amy,” he mumbles between kisses. “You’re so soft. I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Amy. My nickname. He never calls me that.
I nearly leap away and back into my own chair. His huge eyes search mine, as if gauging my reaction. There’s the faintest hintof vulnerability in them, a softness I’d never expect after such a passionate kiss.
I can’t be fooled by it.
He’s a fuckboy. He’s done this dozens of times.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I repeat. “What was that? What game are you playing?”
His expression shutters. “They’re just words.”
I shake my head. “I don’t like words that aren’t true. They don’t work on me. They don’t turn me on.”
Two strips of pink burnish his cheek bones, and he clenches his jaw. He stares at me for a long moment, his breathing heavy. “It’s not that deep, Amelia. We’re just practicing for a competition.”
“Yeah,” I say, standing up. “And I’m done practicing for now. See you later.”
His eyes flash with an emotion I can’t quite read, but I don’t wait a moment longer. I rush out of that library as if I’m on fire.
