Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1)(88)

“Was his tongue in your mouth?” he growled.

My brows shot up at that. He was jealous, which I found to be the most hypocritical thing in the world. “Now that you don’t need to know.”

“Did he touch you anywhere?”

“Don’t be an ass. I just told you everything, and you have no right to be jealous, let alone mad, Mr. Slutty McSlutFace.”

That surprised a short bark of a laugh out of him, but it died a quick death.

He straightened, still rubbing at his chest. “I’m not mad. Really. Just hurt.” He rubbed harder as he said the word hurt.

I put my hand over his, stepping close. It was crazy, but I actually felt bad, even after all of the things he’d done that had been so much worse than my one minute kiss.

“Is this what hurts?” I asked softly, caressing the spot he’d been rubbing. It was right over his heart.

He nodded, looking more miserable than I could stand.

“It hurts your heart that we kissed?”

He winced, but he nodded, and it was perverse, but I loved that I could affect him. He never gave me words of love, so any hint that I’d touched his heart had an impact on me.

“You know it won’t happen again. You can trust both of—”

He cut his hand through the air in a dismissive motion. “Of course. I know I can trust you both. It just hurts. Probably because it reminds me how close I was to losing you, and how much I don’t deserve for you to give me a chance. I should have given in to my feelings for you right from the start. I regret everything I did to push you away, and every time I lied to myself about how I felt.”

“Do-over?” I asked him, which drew a small smile out of him. This smile told me that he thought I was cute. I loved reading his smiles, and that I was learning what each one of them meant, day by day. He had the best smiles.

“Deal,” he said softly, drawing me to him. “Let’s start fresh, and forget about all the mistakes I’ve made.”

“We’ve made,” I chided, letting him pull me close.

We were in the middle of a casino, slot machines clinking in the background, and I didn’t care. I let him kiss me. I’d let him kiss me anywhere.

It wasn’t a light kiss. It wasn’t a romantic kiss. It wasn’t innocent, or casual, or appropriate for public.

It was a down and dirty, suck at my mouth kind of kiss, demanding, hungry, and perfect.

By the time he pulled back, I was clutching at his shirt, and shaky at the knees.

His mouth went to my ear, his voice rough and unsteady. “I need you. Now. I can’t wait even a minute to be inside of you.”

That had my brain go fuzzy as I tried to figure out what he could mean. He didn’t keep me in suspense for long, pulling me into the nearest women’s restroom.

It was huge, with marble floors and counters, and stalls with doors that went floor to ceiling, covered in opaque glass that frosted as you locked the door.

The stalls were so big, in fact, that they could accommodate a beast of a man like Tristan.

One woman gave us a strange look as she walked out, and we walked in, but luckily for us, she was the only one we came across before we were locked away.

Tristan pushed my back hard into the door of the stall.

I licked my lips as he worked himself loose from his jeans, his c**k already huge and throbbing for me. He bunched my skirt up at the waist, running a finger over my cleft. He sucked in a breath when he found me wet.

He didn’t even take off my panties, just shoved the thin thong aside, both hands pushing my skirt up, and lifting me. He pushed into me with a hard stroke, and a rough groan.

“If anyone comes in, they can see our shadows through this door, so I need to make this quick. I need you.” Each word he said was a rough pant into my ear.

I moaned, gripping at his shoulders as he ground into me.

He was in a hurry, but even then, he still saw to my pleasure with a soft touch on my clit, and hard thrusts into my core.

“I love you,” I cried as I came.

With a rough cry, he followed me.

It was a hell of a walk of shame through the casino to the valet. “I need a shower,” I muttered, tugging my skirt down as far as it would go.

He squeezed my hand. “We’re just lucky it’s so late at night that no one came into the bathroom.”

“True. I doubt we could have pulled that off if it wasn’t nearly four in the morning.”

He kissed my hand, giving me his wicked smile. “We could have. We just would have gotten ourselves arrested in the process.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I think I f**ked the drunk out of you. I’ll have to remember that little trick.”

I giggled, because I was way more sober than I’d been when we’d started, so it was kind of true.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

My next jealous fit had a different start, but the same ending. Of course, everything between Tristan and I seemed to end with sex. Good sex. Great sex. The best sex.

A few weeks after Dean and Tristan moved into their apartment, they threw a huge house warming party. The place was packed, so packed that once I lost sight of Tristan, he stayed lost for a good thirty minutes.

I should have known something was up when Dean cornered me in the kitchen the second we were separated.

“Chinese and English,” was how he began, reminding me once again why I didn’t like him. I knew what he meant with the vague start, because I’d played this game way too often. It was the ‘guess Danika’s race’ game, and I loathed it. One of my favorite things about the Vega brothers was that neither had ever played this stupid game with me.