Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(23)

I had no idea why I couldn’t seem to keep my hands to myself when it came to Tristan. It was a new problem for me. I felt hot and bothered as I never had before. I decided to make a short appointment with my vibrator in the very near future. It could only help.

I swam laps, trying to blow off steam, and give Tristan enough time to shower and change.

I was breathless and exhausted when I stopped. I started as I saw that Tristan was standing over the pool, dry and dressed in a white T-shirt and some gray athletic shorts.

“Shower’s all yours,” he said, watching me, his expression blank.

“Oh. Thanks.”

I moved to get out of the water, and he met me at the steps with a towel.

“I’m going to go workout,” he said as I dried off.

I just nodded. He’d made good use of Bev’s home gym in the short week he’d been staying at the house.

“Feel free to come and join me.”

I nodded again. “I might. I need to wash the chlorine out of my hair, and do a few things first.”

“Sure,” he said, walking back into the house.

I couldn’t tell if he was out of sorts, or just in a quiet mood.

I showered, and changed into a comfortable T-shirt and some shorts. I started to head to the home gym when I changed my mind, turning around.

Maybe Tristan was on to something with his frequent showers.

With kids underfoot, I kept my vibrator at the back of the drawer in my nightstand, wrapped in a sock that was wrapped in a T-shirt. It was very well hidden, since I did not want to have a conversation about that with the boys.

I shut and locked my bedroom door, turned on some music, slipped out of my shorts and panties, and grabbed the neglected toy out of my nightstand.

I sprawled out on my bed, closing my eyes. I pictured Tristan as I set to work on myself with the small vibrating wand.

I pictured his massive arms as I worked my T-shirt up, cupping my breast. I visualized his sinister smile as I kneaded the flesh around my nipple. I was already wet. I thought of his golden eyes as I pushed the wand inside of me, shivering in pleasure as the vibrations rocked me. I pulled it out and moaned as I touched it to my clit, imagining his body, with those perfect abs, and that ripped chest. I remembered that brief touch of his erection against me, pushing the toy inside of me.

It usually took me a long time to relax and let go enough to come, but I wasn’t having any trouble just then, my race toward the finish faster than I could ever remember. I was letting myself relax into a climax when there was a knock at my bedroom door. I tensed.

“Danika?” Tristan called.

I closed my eyes, letting that deep voice wash over me.

“Yes?” I answered breathlessly.

“You coming?”

“Yes,” I nearly moaned.

“What’s taking so long?” he questioned.

“Almost there,” I gasped.

There was a long pause from the other side of the door. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rougher now.

I didn’t answer, something about that rough tone setting me off. I grabbed a corner of my blanket, biting it to stifle my moans as I climaxed.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

I heard him try the door.

“I need a minute,” I told him, just lying there, my heart still racing.

“Okay,” he said, almost too quiet for me to hear.

I was decent but flustered when I finally opened my door.

Tristan was just standing there, hands on his hips, eyes on the floor. He looked up, then craned his neck to look into my room.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, mostly meaning it. I did feel more relaxed than I had.

“We working out?”

“Sure. Let me just tie my hair back, and grab my shoes. I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

He startled me by tipping my chin up with his finger.

I blinked at him.

“You look different.”

“What do you mean?”

He hummed low in his throat, and I about lost it. It was the sexiest noise I’d ever heard. “Fuck, Danika, I know that look. Were you taking your own version of a ‘shower’ in there?”

It took me a while to catch his meaning. My cheeks flushed red, but I was too stubborn not to meet his gaze squarely. I firmed my jaw, leaning away from his hand. “And what if I was? You think you’re the only one that needs a ‘shower’ every once in a while?”

He seemed taken aback by that. “No. I didn’t—I don’t think that. I’m sorry, you just caught me off guard. That’s…way too f**king hot. Excuse me.” He turned around and started walking back down the hall.

“We still on for a workout?” I called to his back.

“Hell yes,” he called back.

I grinned.

I was jogging on the treadmill for a good forty-five minutes before he said another word.

He dropped down from doing a long round of pull-ups that I pretended I wasn’t counting.

He approached the front of my machine, studying my face.

“So, um,” he finally spoke, clearing his throat, “how often do you need to, uh, take a ‘shower’?”

I sent him an arch look, but my heart was pounding harder at his question. “Is this a friendly conversation?” I asked, breathing hard, from the workout, and the question.