Tempting Tristan Read online

  When we’re finally alone, Alex pushes his arms around my waist and kisses my neck. “Do all your boyfriends spend the night?”

  “Not at the same time.”

  The tease earns me a jealous glare. Alex’s hands tighten around me. I can feel every hard inch of him, and lust sears through my veins. The truth is, none of them have ever stayed over, because my friends disliked most of them.

  “I want you beneath me, baby,” he growls into my ear, and kisses my neck again, driving me out of my mind.

  I grab his head and kiss him, slamming him against the counter. We both grunt at the force of the impact. I clutch his ass, and we stumble through the living room, kissing and groping, making our way down the dark hallway leading to my bedroom. He crashes me against the wall, stroking me through my jeans, and I swear I’m about to lose it.

  I tear my mouth from his and reach for the doorknob. Alex pushes us through the door and kicks it shut behind him, turning the lock with a predatory look in his eyes that nearly brings me to my knees.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Alex

  “YOU HAVE ABOUT ten seconds to tell me if you’ve changed your mind.” The bedroom curtains are drawn, and the only light comes from the digital clock on the nightstand. It takes only a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. I know from how hard Tristan’s breathing, and the raw passion in his eyes, he’s not going to stop me. I’m trying to ignore the war going on in my head about how the hell I’m going to handle Tristan seeing my leg.

  Tristan tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. I drink in every hard muscle, every sexy inch of his broad chest and ripped abs as I pull off my shirt and close the gap between us. My hands move up his back, pressing his hot skin to mine as our mouths crash together and our cocks grind against the denim between us.

  “You’re sure, baby?” I ask between kisses.

  He unbuttons my jeans in response, and I instinctively freeze, but I fight the urge to turn away, refusing to let my fucking leg ruin this for us. I grab his wrist and his eyes open.

  “You’re mine tonight.” I devour his mouth as I unbutton his jeans and tug them down his thighs, setting his erection free. He leans back on the dresser as I pull off his shoes and help him strip off his pants.

  Visually feasting on the man before me, I take my boots off. “Fuck, T. Look at you.”

  My hands move over his powerful thighs, up his chest, and down his flanks. I cup his balls and claim him in another demanding kiss as I stroke his eager cock. He groans, and I move us to the bed and push him down on his back. I follow him down, kissing and groping, and he reaches for my jeans again. I trap his wrist beside him.

  “Alex, I want all of you,” he demands.

  “You’ll get all of me, I promise.” I unfasten my pants and push them down to my knees. I’m so fucked. I don’t want to ruin this, but my gnarled leg is a definite buzzkill. And if I don’t get inside Tristan soon, I’m going to lose it.

  I move down his body and take his thick cock in my mouth, hoping he’ll let the pants stay as they are. He grabs his head, his neck craning back as I suck him, teasing his balls until they tighten in my palm. I press my hands to the backs of his thighs, just above the crook of his knees, push his legs up to his chest, and bring my mouth to his rim.

  “Oh, fuuuck, Alex.”

  He fists his hands in the sheets. I push his legs open wider and thrust my tongue beyond the tight ring of muscles. His ass clenches around my tongue, and the noises coming out of his mouth are so fucking sexy I can barely stand it. I slide my finger into his ass and lick his balls, stealing a glance at the sexy look on his face. His lips are slightly parted, glistening from our kisses, and his eyes are closed.

  “Lube, baby,” I say quickly. “Where is it?”

  He looks at the bedside drawer. I move beside him and open the drawer, pulling out the lube and a box of condoms. Tristan watches as I grab a few condoms and toss them beside us. I lube up my fingers and toss the tube to the other side of the bed. I kiss him as I work my fingers into his ass, and he thrusts his hips, silently begging for more. Taking the kiss deeper, I push a third finger into him. He hisses into my mouth, and I shift, moving between his legs, listening to him moan with pleasure as I continue stretching him with my fingers.

  “You’re so fucking sexy.” I fist my cock and lean down to suck his dick as I fuck him with my fingers and stroke myself, doling out as much torturous pleasure for him as I am for myself.

  “Holy shit you’re talented.” Tristan grabs my head, holding tight as I suck him off.

  I’m in heaven, and it can only get better from here, but my need for him is too strong to deny for another second.

  “I’ve got to have you.” I grab a condom and tear it open with my teeth. He watches as I quickly sheath myself and lube up. I come down over him, pushing his legs back to his chest, my cock perched at his entrance. Our eyes meet, and I want to watch as I enter him, but I want to kiss him and feel what he feels at the same time.

  “It’s been a long time, T. It’s going to be fast.”

  He laces his fingers with mine and holds them beside his head, surrendering to my will. “Take me, Alex. Make me yours.”

  All thoughts whoosh from my head as my mouth meets his at the same time my cock breaches his ass. I kiss him deeply and sensually, moaning at the intensity of feeling his body swallow every last inch of me, until my balls touch his flesh, and I swear I’ve died and gone to heaven. I pull back and open my eyes, looking down at the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen. Tristan’s eyes are trusting and eager and so full of emotion I feel mine stacking up inside me. I take him in another kiss and we begin to move. His tight heat draws all of me in—my emotions, my strength, my anger at my fucking leg. I press his hands deeper into the mattress like a tumbleweed gathering speed, pounding into him as I ravage his mouth, and as he tightens around me, my restraint shatters.

  I tear my mouth away with the need to watch. I have to see his body taking me, see his eyes as I brand him from the inside out. He’s clutching my hands, moaning and groaning with each hard thrust. I take in his incredible body, memorizing every inch as his muscles flex to the beat of our bodies joining repeatedly. His cock lifts from his stomach with our efforts. I want to give him so much, to pleasure him in every way. I pull one hand from his grasp and fist his cock, tightening with every upward stroke.

  “You’re exquisite, babe. Come with me,” I coax.

  His eyes open and I swear electric currents sear through my body at the emotions I see staring back at me. His fingernails dig into the back of my hand, and the pain cutting into my hand, the sounds of our flesh smacking together, and that insatiable look in his eyes bowl me over. His ass clenches tight, and I’m seconds from release.

  “Come, T.”

  “Alex,” he pleads, and arches off the bed.

  With my next thrust, a magnificent force tears through me, as he comes in hot streaks across his chest, each of us grunting through our own intense release. When we’ve got no more to give, I come down over him, our chests sliding in the evidence of our lovemaking, and we kiss. The kiss is deep and raw. Needy. He lowers his legs to the mattress, and I push my arms beneath him, gathering him against me. We roll onto our sides. His gaze is sated and his body forms to mine.

  “Tristan, baby, you own me.”

  I close my eyes and kiss him as I’ve never kissed another man, straight from my soul. I’m aware of everything: the feel of his tongue sliding sensually over mine, the strength of his fingers as he grips my back, the frantic beats of our hearts. Our bodies are slick with sweat and sticky with come, and I have no desire to move. I want to stay right there, holding him until we both fade into sleep.

  “Alex,” he whispers.

  My name sounds like a thank-you, like I’ve found a piece of him that he’s lost. My name sounds like I feel, and that’s all he says.

  As our breathing calms, his hands move down my side, and his lips press against mine. It’s a glorio
us, luxurious feeling, to have a man I care for lying naked beside me without worrying about what anyone else thinks. In my head, I hear his name playing like a prayer. Tristan. Tristan. Tristan. And for the first time in my life, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

  I don’t care that I’m free-falling over a cliff for him, or that I have no idea how to be a couple, or that I need to get my business under way. All I care about is the man whispering against my lips.

  “Stay with me.”

  I am so into this man who’s willing to walk through my convoluted battlefield without fear, I say, “Always.”

  His foot slides over my right calf. I want to feel that foot tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. It slides over my foot, up my calf again. I feel all of the stress and anger of the last year dissipating and relax against him, melting into his arms. His foot drops from my right leg to my left, and I’m hovering in a post-orgasmic daze, thinking about how good his legs feel against mine, how nice it is to be caressed by his foot, his hands, his breath as it whispers over my skin.

  His foot glides down my mangled calf—and I freeze. My eyes fly open. I was so into us I forgot about my pants and my leg. I feel as though I’ve run headfirst into a brick wall.

  I. Can’t. Breathe.

  Tristan’s hands tighten around me, but I’m mentally trying to claw my way back from hell. I try to break free from his grip, but he presses his chest over mine, pinning me to the bed. I know I can overtake him, but the hurt and anger in his eyes stops me cold.

  “Tris,” I grind out, hating myself for being such a wimp about this, but the idea of him thinking I’m any less of a man, anything less than whole, kills me. The fact that those thoughts are also fucked up isn’t lost on me.

  “Shut up, Alex,” he says sharply. “I won’t look if you don’t want me to, but I want to feel all of you. Unencumbered. I don’t want to feel like I’m nothing but a cheap fuck, only worthy of your pants around your knees unless they fall off by accident.”

  My heart cracks wide open, and I’m powerless to restrain myself from pushing him onto his back. I have no idea when my pants came off, and it doesn’t matter. He matters. “You are not a cheap fuck. Goddamn it. Here I am feeling all sorts of shit I never thought I’d feel, and now…”

  I release him, ashamed at the bullshit weakness eating at my gut. With my heart in my throat, I push up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. I take off the condom and tie it off, tossing it into the trash bin beside the bed.

  Tristan rises behind me and runs his hands down my arms. I know he’s making an effort by not moving to the edge of the bed, where he’d be able to see my leg. He’s giving me the chance to tell him it’s okay to look, and it makes me feel better and worse at the same time.

  “I hate myself for making you feel like that,” I say, knowing it won’t fix this.

  “I don’t feel like that, but your pants came off for a reason, Alex. They came off because of us. If you storm out of here, it means you trust me enough to fuck me but not enough to let me in. That’s cool. If that’s where you are right now, just tell me. I can deal with that. But if you’re debating storming out of here because you think something about you makes you a pariah, don’t.”

  He grabs me by the chin and turns my face. I’m acutely aware of the fact that he hasn’t tried to look at my leg. His eyes are full of empathy, not pity, and something much, much deeper.

  “Nothing could make you a pariah. You fought for our country. You saved lives, Alex, and you survived. Don’t put yourself in a mental prison you don’t deserve because of it. Talk to me, because if you storm out without an explanation, I will not let you back in. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not in a month.”

  I know he’s not fucking around, and that makes the crack in my heart deepen. He’s been dicked over enough to stand up for himself, and I respect the hell out of him for it, but I still feel like I’ve swallowed a live grenade.

  Tristan

  ALEX IS SHAKING. I don’t know if it’s out of anger, embarrassment, guilt, or something else, but he’s not in a good place right now. My gut tells me he needs to be pushed, but my heart is already too wrapped up in him to push too hard. Instead, I touch my forehead to his shoulder, listening to his fast breaths as he works this out.

  “I see you, Alex. I want to see all of you.” I move off the opposite side of the bed, giving him the privacy I sense he needs to deal with this. “I’m going to take a shower. If you’re here when I come out, great. If you’re not, it’s okay.”

  I’m careful not to glance over as I cross the floor to the bathroom, stepping over our clothes. I hesitate in the doorway to the bathroom, wanting to hold him in my arms and feeling as though I’m turning my back on him, but I know I have to be strong. For both of us.

  Forcing my feet to carry me through the door, I close it behind me, hoping he doesn’t leave. I turn and press my hands to the door, fighting the urge to return to him. He’s not an asshole. He’s not a prick who ignores me or treats me like shit. He’s a guy who’s carrying so much guilt and heartache he can’t see straight. Knowing that makes it even more difficult for me to be on this side of the door. I turn on the shower and step beneath the warm spray, remembering the feel of him moving inside me, the look in his eyes as our bodies joined together.

  I turn my face up to the spray, washing away his touch, and I cover my face with my hands, wanting to sear it into my memory in case it’s all we’ll ever have.

  “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  The bathroom door opens, and as I turn in the direction of the noise, the shower slides open and I meet Alex’s tortured gaze. My throat thickens as if we’re being reunited after years apart. I reach for his hand, and he takes it with gratitude in his soulful eyes as he steps into the shower with me. Water trickles over his head, his chest, his back, sliding like tear streaks down his cheeks.

  “This is me, T. All of me.”

  I don’t look down at his leg. I don’t drop my eyes at all. It could be scars that make him feel uncomfortable or an amputation from the knee down. The depth of his injury has no bearing on the magnitude of what he feels toward it. And after seeing how torn he was moments earlier, I’m overwhelmed by the courage it took for him to come in here and bare himself to me, no matter what his leg might look like.

  Without a word, I take him in my arms, and he embraces me. His hands move up my back, cupping the base of my skull, and holding me as close as two people can get without being inside each other. His breathing evens as his body cocoons me, as if he wants to hold me against him forever.

  When our embrace eases, our mouths come together. We don’t speak. We don’t need apologies or explanations. Not now. All we need is the safety of each other, the deep, unexplainable connection that makes him the wind to my embers, and as we kiss, all those shattered thoughts and hurt feelings fall away. He backs me up against the wall, and I go willingly, his rigid cock pressing against mine as he pins my hands to the tile wall and searches my eyes. I know what he sees, because he’s torn my heart from my chest and I feel it beating on the surface of my skin, aching for him. I desperately want to heal him, to claim him as he’s claimed me, but he needs this. I see it in his eyes. He needs to reclaim his spot as the alpha, and I willingly turn and face the wall, spreading my legs. His left hand clutches my shoulder, and I know what he’s thinking. We have no condom. No lube. And I don’t fucking care. I’m clean, he’s clean, and I’m open to the pain.

  I lift my hand and lace his right hand with mine. He presses against my back.

  “No.” He steps from the shower and I can’t move. What the fuck just happened? As I try to wrap my head around how we went off track, he steps back into the shower behind me, and relief flares in my chest.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, T. No matter how fucked up I am.”

  I hear the lube top flip open, and my heart swells. He interlaces the fingers of our left hands and caresses my ass with his right. His scruffy cheek touches mine, a
nd I feel his cock press against my hole. When he pushes into me, I cry out at the sheer pleasure of having him inside me again. I feel all of him, his slick shaft, the ridge of his glans as it glides over the spot that makes my eyes roll back in my head.

  “Fuck, T. Your ass is so hot, so tight. I’ve never done this bareback.” He bites down on my shoulder and clutches my waist, holding me right where he wants me.

  “Harder,” I beg, wanting to feel everything he feels through our lovemaking—the passion, the hurt, the guilt, the trust, and finally, the release of it all.

  He takes the invitation, driving into me over and over again. Then his hand drops to my cock, and he brings me right up to the edge with him.

  “God, Alex. You feel incredible.”

  I spread my legs wider, planting them firmly so he can take me harder. He releases my hand and grabs my hair, tugging my head back and craning my neck as he claims my mouth. Every slick of his tongue competes with the magnificent thrusts of his hard-as-steel shaft and the pump of his fist on my cock. In seconds I’m spiraling into oblivion, coming on his hand, the wall, my legs, and feeling him empty himself inside me. Then he’s kissing my jaw, turning me in his arms, running his hands over every inch of my body, as if he’s making sure he didn’t hurt me. His eyes are glassy and serious as they search my face, and I have the feeling he’s thinking about more than the electricity buzzing between us. I cup his cheeks.

  “Alex, we’re good, baby. We’re good.”

  I don’t know where his mind is, but I know he’s wrestling demons. He blinks several times, as if a switch has flipped inside his head, and his eyes become clear as they focus on me. I don’t need to know what those demons were, because I know we’re moving past them.

  He’s breathing hard, taking me in his arms. “I’m so fucking sick of hiding. I don’t want to hide from you, T.”

  His jaw tightens, and he drops his eyes to his leg and laces his hand with mine. As I lower my gaze, taking in his dimpled and scarred hip, I follow his leg south to the missing pieces of his calf.