Tristan prayed his kiss conveyed all the heat, passion, and desire he’d felt over the last few days. Dylan reached up to him, running his fingers through Tristan’s hair, and in that moment, for Tristan, this turned into a new beginnings kiss. He never intended to let Dylan go. That possession fueled the kiss as several minutes passed, leaving Dylan sprawled across the seat. The angle of Tristan’s body had the steering wheel digging into his hip and the console limiting his breath, but he didn’t let go of the hold he had on Dylan who held him just as tightly.
He kissed Dylan until he couldn’t breathe and moved to his neck, inhaling his scent. “I need to go,” Dylan whispered, his sweet breath lingering on Tristan’s face.
“I don’t want you to,” Tristan confessed, trying now to look Dylan in the eyes. “I’m sorry I got mad.”
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have let this…” Tristan stopped the words. He’d heard those enough; he didn’t need to hear them anymore.
“I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.” He kissed him again. The lustful haze that glazed Dylan’s eyes had Tristan smiling. He loved the fact that his kiss did that to this overly reasonable man. “Just go. I’ll be in touch,” Tristan promised as he pulled back. Dylan closed his eyes, and Tristan couldn’t resist the desire to kiss each of his eyelids. Dylan swallowed hard then opened them. Sadness shone from their cerulean blue depths.
“I can’t do this again,” Dylan said firmly, but he didn’t try to leave the embrace. His actions were in direct contrast to his words, and that allowed hope to fill Tristan’s heart again. Finally, something other than his own determination that they would meet again.
“You’ve made that clear,” Tristan whispered softly, lightly kissing his lips. Dylan kissed him again on his own.
“I’m glad you were my first,” Dylan said, that sadness in his eyes reached his voice this time. Tristan didn’t know what to do to banish the look. If he said there was no way he planned to let them end here, panic would return, so he kept those words to himself.
“Me, too. You’re sexy as hell, Mr. Reeves.” Tristan forced a smile, reluctantly letting Dylan rise.
“Thank you for all this,” Dylan replied, gathering his things.
“I’ll have the contracts to you quickly. I have legal working on them now,” Tristan added, unable to keep himself from looking at Dylan’s full lips one last time. These were lips he longed to take again and again. It was unfathomable how in such a short amount of time this man had worked his way in and completely captured his heart.
“All right,” Dylan said. Tristan watched the way he squared his shoulders and set his resolve. That was probably the difference between an inebriated Dylan and a sober one. He made himself do what he considered the right thing, at all cost. And that just might be the sexiest thing about the man.
Dylan reached for the door again and Tristan let him go this time. Dylan stepped out and turned around. He ducked his head to give him one last look. Neither said anything, they just stared at one another. Words weren’t needed now. Tristan saw everything he felt reflected in Dylan’s eyes. Dylan gave a nod and shut the door. He didn’t look back as he jogged to the bank of elevators leading up into the hotel.
Tristan stayed there, watching as Dylan entered the elevator. From where he sat, he could see Dylan turn back, look his way, and lift a hand in his direction. No way could Dylan see him, but Tristan lifted his hand and waved. Dylan looked sad. He’d give him a few days, maybe a week, but Dylan would call…he was sure of it. You could only hide for so long, especially after you got a taste of what you wanted.
“Maybe he’ll find someone to fuck at home,” Tristan mumbled out loud, surprising himself, but he pushed aside that thought and the jealousy those words caused. What they shared was more than a drunken fuck. At least he hoped he meant more than that to Dylan. Dylan would call. If he didn’t, Tristan would call him. He just really wanted Dylan to want him enough to make the next move. He needed that to happen.
Tristan went through the house, ignoring the silly feelings of aloneness. Dylan had visited his home for barely more than twenty-four hours. He hadn’t had time to put his mark on anything or truly even belong in his space. Yet he’d done a tremendous job at making Tristan wish those things had happened.
Something caught Tristan’s eyes. The pool guy was outside. He lifted a hand in greeting as regret and sadness coiled tight in his belly. He’d wanted to make love to Dylan in that pool. How had he let that opportunity slip through his fingers?
That thought had him rolling his eyes. He wasn’t sure he did the whole lovesick thing very well. Yes, he was truly sad Dylan had left, but he’d see him again soon. He needed to move on to other things. He went for his cell phone, and with a couple of quick swipes, he pulled up the weekend itinerary again. They were leaving sometime this afternoon, he couldn’t remember the exact time. Maybe he could get a quick call in before he boarded the flight. He started to dial, but ended the call and pivoted on his heels. No, he wanted Dylan to make the next move and that was going to take a few days. The guy had the patience of Job.
Instead of making any phone calls, he headed for the bathroom. He’d sweated so much this morning he was sure he was down thirty pounds. He figured he could use a good scrub and then a gallon of water.
Besides all that, he definitely had more than enough work to occupy his mind. Tristan flipped on the shower and waited the second for the hot water to flow. He shook his head when he realized he was actually looking forward to going through his paperwork to keep himself from calling Dylan. And that proved how bad he had it for Mr. Reeves. On a deep sigh, he dropped his shorts and tugged his T-shirt over his head. So be it, paperwork on a Sunday afternoon would be a great distraction. Tristan stepped in the shower and refused to look over at the bathtub he’d shared with Dylan last night.