Forbidden Bride
He laughs. “Am I tempting you?”
“You have no fucking idea.”
“Well, I would say you do have an idea about fucking now.”
I throw a pillow at him, laughing until I put my bra on and we both realize that I no longer have a wearable shirt. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about you leaving when I did that,” he says.
“It’s fine. I didn’t like that shirt much anyway.”
“Here.” He pulls a sweatshirt out of a drawer. “You can wear that.”
Putting on the sweatshirt is like pulling on the physical manifestation of comfort. It’s big and soft and smells like Tristan. I would bottle that scent if I could—that delicious cologne he wears and something deeper and masculine that only belongs to him. I may never take the sweatshirt off.
Neither of us really want to separate, so even as we get ready, we don’t say anything about leaving. It’s filled with small moments that make my chest ache. Tristan helps button me into my coat and pauses on the doorstep to kiss me deeply, leaving me to once again question my sanity in leaving this man’s home. He holds my hand on the drive, looking over at me and smiling whenever he can.
Finally, we pull up to my parents’ house, and never in my life have I wished so badly to live somewhere else. It’s always seemed more convenient since I wasn’t looking to date anybody, and I work at the family company. But now, that’s something I’ll be considering immediately.
“Should I risk kissing you here?” he asks.
“Please do.”
Tristan grins before leaning across the center console and taking my lips in a hard kiss—one that’s meant to tempt and linger. “You’re not helping,” I repeat.
“I’m not trying to.”
I glare at him, which only makes him laugh. And I feel words on my lips that I’m burning to say. For years I’ve wanted to. But now isn’t the time. Not here in the car. I’ll know the time. So instead I say, “See you.”
“See you,” he reflects back. But his voice is filled with longing and lust and I have to force myself out of the car and not look back as I walk toward the house. My willpower is almost zero and I can’t be sure that I won’t turn around and go back to him. I allow myself one wave when I get to the door but that’s it.
Fucking hell, I’m already in so deep.
“Hi honey!” my mom calls, stepping out from the kitchen. “What are you doing home so early?”
I have no concept of time, but it’s before the end of the workday, and it’s rare that I’m home before six. More often than not I get caught up in the test kitchen until well after hours. “I wasn’t feeling very well,” I say.
“That’s too bad. Was it the pizza? Should I be concerned?”
I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t the pizza. I’m not sure what it is. I figured I’d just take a nap and see if it helps.” I am really tired and the idea of curling up in my bed is beyond appealing.
“Okay,” she says as I hang up my coat. “Do you want some tea?”
“Maybe later.”
She nods, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. “Let me know.” Then she frowns. “You weren’t wearing that earlier, were you?”
Shit. I’m still wearing Tristan’s sweatshirt and I forgot. “Oh. No. I spilled something on myself in the lab, and Tristan offered to let me wear it.”
“He’s a good man,” Mom says, smiling.
“Yeah, he is.” Though I wonder if she would still be saying that if she knew that he just took my virginity and fucked me senseless.
I escape into the basement before I have to tell any more lies. I don’t love lying to my parents, but for now, I have to. I’m not going to mess this up before it’s even started.
The basement of our house is my apartment. When my parents re-did it a few years ago they offered it to me since it’s a separate living more appropriate for an adult. And it’s been perfect up until now. But I need to get out of here. I can’t imagine sneaking around with Tristan while still living with my parents, and if we really are going to be together, we’re going to need space.
Right now, though, my brain is filled with post-sex fog and there’s nothing more I want than to go to sleep. I kick off my shoes and my skirt so that I’m wearing nothing more than my underwear and Tristan’s sweatshirt. It seems fitting, and like hell am I going to take it off. I slip into sleep surrounded by that perfect, comforting scent.
6
Tristan
In the whirlwind of everything that happened yesterday I almost forgot that it was Friday. It seems strange to have a day off from work so quickly after starting a new job, but I could really use the day to get some progress made on the unpacking.