Bad Things (Tristan & Danika, #1)(40)

“Hmmm?” His tone and even his lying face were all innocence.

“You know what. The hand on my knee. What was that all about?”

He sighed, dropping the act. “Fuck, I’m sorry about that. Just watching you eat with that look on your face… I lost my mind for a minute.”

“You were being a tease. I’d recommend you not start playing that game with me.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked, sounding all sorts of intrigued with the idea.

“It is. Don’t start a war you can’t win, my friend. In the battle of the teases, I would whip your slutty ass, you sex fiend.”

He laughed so hard that he had to pull the car over.

“You know I’m right,” I said, folding my arms over my chest.

He nodded. “I completely agree, but you know I can’t turn down a challenge. Is that what you’re doing? Making it a challenge?”

I shook my head. “No. There’s no challenge. No competition at all, and I refuse to turn it into a bet.”

He pulled the car back onto the street again, smiling and shaking his head. “That’s a pity.”

Dare I ask? “Why is that a pity?”

“Because I’d love to win or lose a bet like that. But you’re right. It would be a stupid thing to do.”

“So stupid,” I agreed. We didn’t say another word on the ride home, and I just knew that we were both thinking about how much we wanted to do something stupid.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN





We went a few days without managing to do anything stupid, but of course, that wasn’t meant to last. The only surprising thing was, I was the first one to break open the stupid damn.

I woke up a few mornings later having the most graphic sex dream of my life.

It was Tristan’s big hands on me in the dream, cupping my breasts and kneading, working down my belly, between my legs.

We were out in the pool, alone. Like most dreams, nothing quite made sense. Like, why were we skinny-dipping in the middle of the day? Still, my dreaming mind went with that eagerly.

I was lying on an inflatable lounge that we hardly ever used, because it was shaped in a huge circle, with the middle cut out, and the boys always found horrible ways to use it, like sticking each others’ heads in the hole and dunking.

The hole was being used for an entirely different wrong way in my dream, though. Tristan filled the hole, his distracting torso spilling out of it as he used his mouth on me in the most distracting way.

I’d never had a guy go down on me before, and even in the dream my imagination was limited. He just nuzzled me there, his hands far more of a distraction.

I woke up with my panties around my knees, and my shirt pulled up to my neck. One of my hands was on a sensitive breast, kneading at it, the other fingering my clit with restless strokes.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care that Tristan was sleeping on the other side of my queen-sized bed, a big pillow all that separated us, it was more that I was too turned-on to let it deter me, and my sleepy mind told me that I could be quiet enough not to wake him. I’d gotten myself too worked up to stop, but I knew from experience that I needed more than my fingers to get myself off.

The hand on my breast reached over to my nightstand, opening the drawer very slowly, the finger on my clit still circling, again and again.

I tried not to make any noise as I fished out my vibrator, but the low vibrating sound that it made when I turned it on was louder than I could ever remember. Then again, I didn’t have the luxury of turning on music to drown it out, as I usually did, with someone dead asleep in the bed next to me.

I gasped as I shoved it inside of me. I was wet from the dream, and it slid right in. I used one hand to hold it there, the hand from my breast moving to work on my clit.

My eyes were closed, my breath coming out in quiet little pants. They only opened as I felt the bed moving.

That movement should have made me stop, or panic, or do anything at all besides moan, shift the wand inside of me, and bite my lip as I glanced over at the gorgeous man moving towards me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, I told myself.

More, more, more, my body screamed back.

Tristan made a guttural sound, low in his throat, and I couldn’t hold back my own low moan.

I was under the covers, but so was he, so that hardly helped. I didn’t protest when he pulled them off both of us.

He moved close, crouched at my side, his knees a breath away from my hip and thigh. The look in his eyes was…intoxicating.

He bit his lip, and I felt myself clench around the wand in response.

My legs were splayed apart, and he moved to straddle one of my thighs, looming over me, but still not touching.

I watched him swallow hard, his eyes fixed on my hands.

I squirmed.

“Can I…help?” he asked hoarsely.

I couldn’t even form the words to answer, just whimpering and shifting restlessly instead.

He took that for a yes. One of his hands covered the hand that held the wand, tugging it up my body.

I started to protest as it started to slip out of me, but his knee caught it, pushing it deep inside of me.

“Ohhh…” I gasped.

He moved my hand until I was cupping my own breast. He squeezed my wrist, which in turn made me knead harder at my pliant flesh.