There’s something more going on with him, but I avoid pushing him too much, too soon.
He wiggles his brows. “Yes, so I should move you in with me to have my emotional support human with me.”
I slap his chest, going for a chastising tone but failing. “Hey.”
The atmosphere shifts, the air around us becoming headier as if bolts of heat shoot at us from all directions, burning patience to a crisp and leaving only carnal need in its wake.
I lick my lips. “Would that be all?”
“You in my bed? We’ll only sleep when you can’t take me anymore. Because I will never have enough,” he groans, betraying his lust just as much.
This man is so very dangerous to my heart and sanity. But tame compared to the desire threatening to ravage us, turning us into wanton creatures with a sole purpose—to mate.
“Let me take this slowly, please. I want you, Viviana. I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you, that I forgot my own damn mind and had to make you mine. You were the only unplanned thing in my life.”
His plea resonates with something deep within me. “You don’t have to follow a plan with me.”
But I also know his brain functions like that—needing a clean structure.
It’s cute that he thinks he owes me dates and time to get to know each other better. Not that I mind, but he gives me the impression he has already made up his mind.
A muscle in his jaw tics. “I have to.”
He lifts my hand to his, placing a gentle kiss on the inside.
The rest of the drive, we spend in comfortable silence as I hum along to the songs from his 1960s playlist. Personally, that was the best music decade. From the Beatles to the Rolling Stones, the songs changed music forever.
Once we reach the beach house, the scenery keeps me rooted in place. There’s something ethereal about this image—wild, untouched nature in the foreground as waves break at the shore, kissing the sand hello before waving goodbye.
This place recharges my soul. It’s out-of-this-world beautiful.
He wraps one arm around me, kissing my neck and stirring butterflies in my belly.
For long minutes, we stay like this—embraced and savoring this blissful moment.
“It would be so hard to choose,” I sigh dreamily. “Between the penthouse and this.”
“You don’t have to.”
He says things like this with such earnestness as if it’s a sure thing.
I squeeze my eyes shut to erase any image that paints our farewell. “Tristan, I…we can’t.”
“There’s no ‘I can’t’ in my vocabulary.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me,” I whisper, hugging myself.
He can’t keep thinking our secret affair will evolve into something more.
Getting in my face, he cups my chin, his eyes brewing a storm. “I’ll handle it. Stop worrying.”
“Sure,” I mumble, but I don’t wish to fight.
Time is not on our side, and if last weekend was any sign, it goes way too fast.
Inside, he carries my suitcase upstairs to the bedroom, and I follow him.
I quickly change into a bathing suit, the hot tub calling to my soul to play.
