Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(73)

"Trystan." She's sobbing my name, and it's glorious. A symphony. A rhapsody. I've never heard my name sound so beautiful.

Gritting my teeth, I hang on. I'm not even fully inside her, and then I can't anymore. Her body is loosening, grabbing me, pulling me in. With a hoarse sound, I barely register is coming from me, I give in with a hard thrust, forging my way inside.

There's no time to appreciate the tight, snug fit because my orgasm is barreling through me, a racehorse out the gate. "Jesus, Emmy. I'm coming." And all I can do is helplessly ride it, drowning in the beautiful ache and the freefall into euphoria. I work my hips to wring as much of it as I can.

Trying to keep it.

Trying to get as deeply into her as possible.

I want to leave myself there.

I already have.





34





Trystan





As the tide ebbs, and I drop back into my body, it's like dropping back into an empty husk. Like I gave myself completely away. I feel a flicker of alarm but have no energy to analyze it.

Blinking my eyes open, I'm relieved to see Emmy. She is there with me, I wasn't left alone. She's reaching up and pulling my face to hers, her mouth opening to mine. I give another slow thrust, not wanting to leave the snug home, even as I'm softening.

For long moments we say nothing, just panting, waiting for the blood to return the oxygen to our brains.

"How did the general do?" I ask when I think I can talk.

She shakes with silent laughter beneath me. "He was a little trigger happy."

I lean up and kiss her nose. "Um, he wasn't the only one. And anyway, that's because he was unprotected and exposed," I say in his defense. "He wasn't used to it."

"Hmm," she says, eyes sparkling with mirth and hands roaming up my back that's damp and cool with sweat. "But he'd already ascertained it wasn't hostile terrain."

"It was a utopia. But it had to be conquered, nonetheless."

"And it was. Thoroughly. He definitely left his mark." Her mouth nips at mine.

I groan. "I guess he earned a promotion. He’s now a four star general."

She scrunches up her nose, and it's cute as fuck. "I need to take a bath."

"Can I watch?" I give her my most hopeful expression.

"You can," she says indulgently like she just gave an ice cream to a toddler. And I adore that she didn't default to self-consciousness. "You can even bathe with me. If you want."

I roll to the side of her, my body instantly missing her warmth, and eye the tub set below the window over my shoulder. "Will we both fit?"

"If we don't, I call first." She leans up on an elbow and purses her lips unapologetically. I can't resist kissing them again. "In fact," she goes on, "can you run it for me while I go to the bathroom?" Then she's shimmying to the edge of the bed and tiptoeing with her legs squeezed together.

I laugh at her and glance at the clock on the side table. "Are you sure you don't want to have a bath in the morning? It's late."

"Ummm. Pretty sure," she answers as I get up and put the plug in the tub and turn on the tap. There's bubble bath on the window sill, and I squeeze a healthy amount into the running water. Yep, I doubt we’d both fit.

Emmy exits the bathroom in a white robe, her hair piled on top of her head. Her cheeks are still flushed.

"I'll make it quick," she says.

"It's fine. No rush." I'm feeling weird suddenly. Out of sorts. I step past her toward the bathroom and try not to notice the small frown line between her eyebrows. "Just going to brush my teeth," I say.

In the bathroom, I shut the door then lean against it and pinch the bridge of my nose. I'm starting to feel claustrophobic. I think. I don't know what I'm feeling. But I no longer have a handle on things. What seemed like a good idea earlier, now seems messy. Complicated. I hate complicated. And I can't leave. I'm here for the night. I guess that's where the feeling of claustrophobia is coming from.

Immediately my brain defaults to figuring out the worst-case scenario so I can mitigate the risk. The problem is I don't know what's on the table. What am I risking? What are the potential gains? What's the guaranteed return on investment?

I splash my face with cold water.

Gains, I have to base on experience: fun, anticipation, sexual release. Laughter. Quite literally the most intense sexual experience of my life.

Risk: She becomes clingy. But she doesn't seem the type, and I negate the thought. Risk that I hurt her? I'd hate that, but somehow I know she'd hide it from me. Protect me from knowing. Something inside my chest flinches at that.

Return on investment: I enjoy my last night and day in Charleston and potentially have a standing arrangement here every time I have to come back. I could more than live with that.

I brush my teeth.

"Trystan?" Emmy's voice calls from the bedroom.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come out here please?"

"One second." I spit and rinse and look at myself. My eyes are bright like I'm drunk. I blink, shake my head, and open the door.

Emmy is standing up and pulling a towel around her, and I feel stupidly disappointed. I missed her in the bath because I had to give myself a fucking pep talk.