He stopped, his hand pausing on the rail. “Necessity.”
“You really think I can’t help myself?”
His entire body tensed as he continued walking. “Not after tonight. I imagine you feel exactly like I do right now, left completely and utterly wanting.”
Yeah, that was true, not that I was going to admit it to him.
He stopped at the second door on the right and pointed. “Your room.”
I walked past him, knowing he watched me, and shivering under his gaze.
“I’ll wake you up for breakfast and drive us back in time for you to get ready before your first class. Besides, I think you have an early meeting with one of my other students tomorrow for the class project.”
Groaning, I banged my head against the door. “Moment ruiner.”
“Lisa?”
I turned.
He grinned and took two steps forward. He dipped his finger into my mouth then pulled back and licked that same finger, his eyes closed in ecstasy. “Just like I remembered.”
“I thought you weren’t going to touch me.”
“All men lie.” He smirked. “Now go to bed before I decide to really have a taste.”
“And if I tell you I want you to?”
His eyes went completely black. “Then I’ll have to say no… even though I would really want to say yes. Go.”
When I didn’t move, he physically turned me around, pushed me into the room, and shut the door behind me.
Too stunned to do anything, I almost didn’t register that I was spending the night again with him. But not with him, with him. I was more like a roommate that he liked around. I was thankful, nonetheless, because that was one night I didn’t want to be alone.
And I knew that with Tristan, even though he seemed dangerous, he was safe. He wasn’t Taylor. Not at all. And it wouldn’t be fair to compare him to Taylor, even though I’d done that with every other guy.
It was finally time to move on.
And I thought I knew exactly who I wanted to do that with.
CHAPTER THIRTY
He’d almost agreed to do it after I explained things my way, and when he was still hesitant, I offered him one more thing I knew he couldn’t refuse—wouldn’t refuse. Her. —The Journal of Taylor B.
Tristan
BY THE TIME morning rolled around, I was one giant conflicted mess. My father had called and asked about business — the typical conversations usually lasted around three minutes. Was he still rich? Was I keeping my nose clean? Whatever the hell that meant. Had I ever let him down? Even once in my life? And the last, my personal favorite… have I returned any of Erica’s calls?
Yes, yes, and no. But I’d said yes in hopes it would appease him. Talking to her seemed about as fun as calling Gabe and having him run me over with his car.
I woke Lisa up. She was quiet, pensive. I imagined I’d given her too much to think about. With a wince, I let her have her silent time. I knew I’d probably pushed her boundaries a bit, but I didn’t want casual, not with her. She had to know that about me. Casual was meant for women I’d once met at my dad’s hotel. Casual and Lisa did not fit in the same sentence. If we did this, if she truly let me in, I’d be hers forever, but I refused to let her think I was like him, so I’d pushed. I wanted the real her. Not the one I read about every night in his journals, but the one, the girl who had come out of that. The only problem? She didn’t know who she was.
In fact, she had no clue.
She was afraid of the darkness he’d brought out in her almost as much as she was afraid of the light that she was still unable to reach. I halfway wondered if that hadn’t been his plan all along. Self-doubt and insecurity make a woman lean on a man in ways that brainwash to the extreme. She becomes so dependent, so lost in the definition of who she is with that person, that when that person finally leaves, no matter how good or horrible he was, the memory is there forever, imprinted in her consciousness.
“Thanks.” Lisa opened the car door but hesitated. Finally, she turned around, a blush staining her cheeks. “Thanks for a night of letting me be myself.”
“Anytime.” I held out my hand. When she’d taken it, I kissed her wrist and released her, even though I wanted to drag her across the center console and then pull her into the back seat. Acting like a caveman wouldn’t get me anywhere, but it sure as hell would stop the constant ache I had to have her.