I need to go find Tristan and talk with him, figure out where his head and his heart are. Maya said he cares about me, but we need to talk in person. I need to hear it from him.
A knock comes from my bedroom door, and I heave out a sigh of frustration. I’m so tired of having these little pow-wows with Maya. I know her intentions are good—they really are—but it’s really wearing me down. I’m already emotionally exhausted with my looming decision. I need some time on my own to think—and I still need to talk to Tristan.
But when I pull the door open, it’s not Maya.
It’s Tristan.
“Oh, hey,” I say, my surprise evident in my voice. “I was just about to come find you.”
His eyebrows raise. “Oh, is that so? Why?”
I’m about to tell him, when I realize I’m standing in my doorway in nothing but a towel. The only reason I remember this is because Tristan’s eyes have dropped to take in my body, and I can feel the heat rising, blushing my skin as he takes his time looking me over. This towel doesn’t do much of a job covering me.
When he looks back up at me, his eyes are blazing with intensity, his jaw set in determination even as a slow, seductive smile quirks up a corner of his mouth. A mouth that looks extremely kissable at the moment.
“Do you want to come in?” I hear myself asking, but only barely, because I can’t hear much over the roar of my pulse in my ears as my heartbeat kicks into overdrive from the way he’s looking at me. How am I so easily affected by him?
By both of them, really.
I step back to make room for him to come through the doorway, then shut the door behind him. As soon as it’s closed, he reaches up and traces my jawline, running his fingers down my neck to my collarbone, then down my arm. I just want to drop the towel and let him have his way with me. I can tell he wants to. But I need to talk to him. I really do.
With superhuman effort, I force myself to take a slight step back. The disappointment on his face is almost enough to make me throw myself back into his arms and confess my feelings to him.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a rush. “It’s not that I don’t want you to…well, that I don’t want you, period. Because I do. Believe me.” I cut myself off because I’m on the verge of nervous babbling.
Tristan smiles, obviously relieved. “Then what’s wrong?”
I clear my throat “I just need to talk to you. And I want to make sure I say what I need to say and not get distracted with…” I gesture up and down at his body, and he gets a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“You sure about that? You look like you’d very much like to get distracted.”
Laughing, I hold up a hand. “Give me a minute. Then you might get a chance to distract me all you want.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “Sounds like something I can get behind.”
I know something I’d like him to get behind. Me. Hard and fast.
I shake my head to clear it of the image. “I need to ask you a question. And I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me.”
“Sure thing.” He nods, his face earnest, and I relax a bit. But only a bit. Because the answer to this question could change everything.
I blow out a breath and bite my lip. I feel just as nervous as when I approached Madden about this.
“Tristan, I need to know how you really feel about me.”
He smiles easily, as if this is an easy one. “I think you’re incredible, Megan. The most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”
I blush a little at that, but it’s not enough. “No, I mean how do you feel about me?”
“Ah, I see,” he says.
“You do?” I swallow nervously.
Taking a step toward me, Tristan reaches for my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing my knuckles in that softly seductive way of his, his eyes locked on mine, burning and passionate. He’s so incredibly sexy, his intensity getting me every time.
“Megan, from the moment I first saw you, I wanted you.”
“Really?” I breathe.