Page 54 of Meet Cute the Virgin

“Oh, you bet your ass I’m getting in.” I hop into the truck. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen your house. You’ve been sneaking into my room all this time, but I don’t even know where you live.”

“Lily, you used to live with me.”

“Don’t change the subject.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m a concerned tradwife. I should know about your home.”

“If you’re my wife, then that means you live with me.”

I ponder this. “You got a safe with a gold bar?”

“I can get one if you’d like, princess.”

“Ahh, you pet-named me.” I adjust my crown. “Hold on,” I say when we pull out of the gate but don’t get far down the road.

“Stay put.” I don’t get a chance to ask; Tristan hops out, moving bushes around to reveal a dirt drive.

“What’s happening?” I ask when he pulls through but hops out again to put everything back.

“Couldn’t let you know how close I was.”

“You were next door! All this time!” I say way too loudly. He pulls up in front of a small but cute house. “You know, you’re not the worst stalker,” I tell him. He doesn’t half do it. Tristan is all in with it.

“You’re only saying that because you met Killian.”

I burst into laughter. “You got jokes now?”

“Every now and then.” He winks, being playful, blood spattered all over him. I ignore that part, enjoying this lighter side of Tristan.

He takes my hand, leading me up to the steps so that I don’t face-plant into his door. He punches in a code for the keypad before he pushes it open, reaching in to flip on lights.

“Holy moly,” I breathe.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Obviously not a penthouse, but this space, one he threw together quickly, while small, is warm and lived-in. There are books stacked up in random places. A blanket is thrown over one couch arm. There are coffee cups in the kitchen sink. It looks like someone actually lives here. The penthouse seemed cold at times with how pristine it was.

“It’s cute,” I tell him. “I approve.”

“Really?” He lifts a brow.

“Kinda romantic.”

“I need a shower before you start talking about romance and being my wife.” He grunts, heading straight for what I assume is the bedroom.

“Is that an invitation?” I tease, following him. “Because I’m very helpful. I could scrub your back. Your front. All the bloody bits off of you.”

“Lily!” He stops in the hallway and turns. “You’re drunk.”

“And you’re a psycho stalker. We already played this game.” I step closer. “It’s only fair. You snuck into my room and got me all naked. I don’t even know what that looks like.” I point to the front of his pants. “And it’s been inside of me.”

He stares at me. I can see he’s tired and trying to be good, but he’s close to cracking, so I puff out my lower lip and stare up at him through my lashes. I’ve seen Teddy get away with murder when she does this move.

“Fine,” he says finally. “But you’re keeping your clothes on.”

“Sure.” I cross my fingers behind my back. There’s no way in hell that’s happening, but I’ll go along with this farce for now.

The bathroom is small, steam quickly filling it as he turns the water on. I watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, and I stop breathing. My eyes scan over every inch of him, taking in the blood on his chest and his arms. The muscle underneath. There are faint white lines, old scars I’ve never seen before. Barely noticeable.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“Yep.” I hop up on the sink.