He has his blue toothbrush in his hand, brushing with a timer going for two minutes. Super cute, that.
He’s shirtless, hair pushed back from his fingers running through locks that curl at the bottom of his neck. Adorable, that.
His shorts are hanging low, as if they’re just a touch too big, giving me the perfect view of hip bones that I know have a distinct V. Sexy as hell, that.
Tristan’s brown eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he winks.
Yeah, I’m done for.
I drop my head, letting my hair shield my flaming-hot cheeks, and finish my nighttime routine.
I rinse my mouth, trying to spit into the sink as ladylike as possible, and when I lift back up, he’s behind me, hands moving around my hips, resting against the bone.
“You’re so sexy right now,” his deep voice says against my ear.
“Sexy? Brushing my teeth?”
It comes out as a question even though I was thinking the exact same thing as I watched him.
It is sexy, seeing him do something so normal.
“Mmm,” he groans softly and then kisses my neck. “Very sexy.”
I slowly turn, resting my arms on his shoulders. He lifts me up and sets me on the counter. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“How do I get through my nighttime routine with you looking like this?” I run my hand down his solid chest and across his washboard abs. “No one should look this hot.”
“It’s what you want me for anyway, isn’t it?”
No, it’s not. I want him for so much more than just his looks. I find myself thinking of him during the day, rushing to him earlier when the night falls, and staying later as the sun comes up.
I want him all the damn time.
I want him for more than the sex. More than I ever thought I would.
That’s just not the role I’m meant to play, though.
“Tristan,” I whisper his name against his lips. Needing the warmth, the friction, the loss of my stupid brain that is asking for more than he’ll ever give me.
He kisses me deeply, tongue sliding against mine like silk against skin. I drink him in, losing myself in his touch.
The calluses on his hands scrape my sides. “I want to take you right here, where we can look in the mirror and you can see me take you.” He kisses me again and then pulls back. “But I want you in the bed, where I can finally have you that way.” Before I can say anything, his mouth is on mine again. “I want you in the shower, the truck, the fucking porch swing,” he murmurs against my lips. “I want you everywhere I can have you.”
I take his face in my hands, pulling back and forcing him to look at me and not kiss me. When his brown eyes find mine, mybreath catches at the desire there. “Well then, we’d better get busy and use every hour we have.”
He grins. “You’re perfect.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I just have one fatal flaw…I’m a Gatlin, and that means this is all we’ll ever be.
I push the thought out of my mind, returning to this moment. Where he doesn’t think of that. Where he sees me as Lark, and to him, I’m perfect.
What a silly thought.
