How was she special? What kind of a question was that?
Tristan tugged at his shirt collar, annoyed when she held her hand up.
‘Don’t bother answering that. I think I know.’ Her voice was full of scorn, and that got his back up.
Why the hell did he feel guilty all of a sudden? They were both consenting adults, and she had asked him to make love to her!
‘I didn’t hear you complaining last night.’
‘That’s because I wasn’t,’ she agreed.
‘Then what’s the problem?’ he asked aggressively.
‘There is no problem. We had a good time and now it’s over.’
‘Just like that?’
‘You want
flowers?’
‘Lily—’
She threw her hands up. ‘Tristan, I can’t do this.’
‘Then how about we do this instead?’ he murmured throatily, crowding her back against the hallway table, quickly reaching around her to snatch at a teetering vase that was probably two thousand years old.
He righted the vase, coiled his arm around Lily’s waist and did what he’d wanted to do all day. Pulled her in close and sealed his lips to hers.
She resisted for maybe half a heartbeat, and then her mouth opened and his tongue swept inside. He groaned at the sheer heaven of her wildfire response and swept his hands down over the gauzy fabric of her dress. She gripped his shoulders and pressed her breasts into his chest. He wished he’d removed his jacket. And his shirt.
‘Hmmm, nice gloss.’ He licked his lips, tasting…cherries? And then nearly fell over the table himself when she let out a sharp cry and pushed him away from her.
‘You ever kiss me against my will again and I’ll slap you,’ she said breathlessly.
‘You wanted it,’ he said definitely.
‘No. You wanted it. I’m over it. And get that smug look off your face. Physically you’re one heck of a package, but when it comes down to it you’ve got nothing I want.’
Tristan felt as if a bomb had just gone off in his head. His mind reeled, memories of his mother’s words from over a decade ago dragging him under, but he shoved them away with steely determination, blanking the pain that threatened to tear him in half.
What was going on here? Was he actually about to beg? And for what? One more round in the ring? Not even his father had been that stupid. And Tristan could have any number of women. Didn’t she know that?
He smiled—a true predator’s smile. He’d nearly lost it over this woman and for what? Sex?
Forget it.
‘Good to know,’ he murmured evenly. ‘Because unless you’re willing to put out, Honey Blossom, you have nothing I want either.’
Lily’s chin jerked up and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and slowly wiped his kiss off before striding down the hallway. It was a good move. An admirable one. And he would have applauded her if she’d hung around.
Thank God he hadn’t offered her anything more. Not that he’d been going to. He’d never offered a woman anything more than a good time between the sheets, or on some other serviceable surface, and Lily Wild was no exception.
He swore viciously. He hated her. God, how he hated her. Making him remember his mother, engaging his emotions like she had. Like some courtesan deliberately setting out to trap him. To make a fool of him.
He glanced down at the antique vase and nearly picked it up and hurled it down the long corridor.
He was happy she was gone because his instincts about her had been right all along: she was nothing but trouble.