Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika #3)(25)

“No funny business?” I asked, then spoke again before he could answer.  “I actually believe that now.  I didn’t figure you were into cripples.”

His hand dropped limply from my knee.

I got a look at his face, right before his gaze dropped down to the table, and instantly regretted saying something so ugly.

Whatever his feelings for me had turned into, I still had the power to wound him deeply.

“I’m sorry,” I told him quickly.

I opened my mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a furious looking Frankie.

She sat on Tristan’s other side, giving me a hostile look that I’d never have figured she’d direct at me.

“You okay?” she asked Tristan, her hand going to his arm.

He nodded shortly, stood up, and strode away.

“When are you going to stop hurting him?  When is it going to be enough for you?  You wanted him punished; he’s been through hell.  What more do you want?”

Part of me was livid about every word that came out of her mouth, but another part, the part that wouldn’t shut up today, knew she had a point.  I had been punishing him; for six years I’d been punishing him, and it had gotten out of hand.

She stood, and I knew that it was to go after him, to make sure he was okay.

I stopped her with a grip on her hand.  “I’ve got this,” I told her, standing.  “You’ve got some best man duties to attend to.”

“Please, Danika.  You don’t have to take him back, but please, just be kind to him.  He’s been through enough.  You both have.  You’re hurting yourself with this bullshit, too, you know?”

I knew it.  I let my eyes show her that as I nodded.

I found him walking aimlessly through the woods, somewhere between the wedding tents and the fortress of a building that James called a ‘house.’

“Tristan,” I called out loudly.

He froze.  He didn’t turn around, just stopped.

I caught up to him quickly, grabbing his arm.

“I’m sorry I said that.  It was an ugly thing to say, and I didn’t even mean it.  You know how I am.  I can never seem to keep things to myself, and sometimes they come out worse than I mean them.”

“You’ve been pretty good at keeping things to yourself for a very long time.”

My eyebrows shot straight up.  He had a point.  I had gotten better at holding my tongue, but I couldn’t quite decipher what his tone meant.

“That’s true.  I’ve grown up.  But what I said back there wasn’t grown up, and I’m sorry for that.  I don’t have a grudge against you.  I really have gotten over our…history together, and I think you’re right.  There’s no reason that we can’t be friends again.”

“Thank you.”  His voice was low and hoarse, his head tilted forward.  Even in the semi-darkness, I could see that his eyes stayed on the ground.

There was something so defeated in his stance, something so hopeless in his voice that I couldn’t seem to help myself,  I hugged him.  For comfort, for support.  Whether it was for him or me or both of us, I didn’t dare contemplate.

I had to stand up on my tiptoes to get my arms around his neck, and that was with him slouched down.

He was stiff as a corpse for about ten seconds before he reacted, his arms squeezing me so hard that I let out a grunt as all of the air was pushed out of me.

He eased up, and I took a few breaths before relaxing into him.

My body seemed to take over, because touching him brought back so many sensory memories.  We were a train wreck, he and I, but something about touching him had always just felt right to me.

I pressed into him, my face still buried in his neck.

He pulled back slightly, and I looked up at him.  I couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but I knew he was looking down at me.

“Tristan,” I uttered softly.

He lowered his head until his mouth was a breath away from mine, and even then, I didn’t think he could possibly be going there.

“Tristan.”

He moved his hands to cup my face, and at the corner of my vision, I could see that that they were trembling.

He tilted my head one way, slanted his head the other, and brought our lips together.

He kissed me.

A desperate, hungry, wild, make me forget the past and the future kind of kiss.

Most of my life was spent displaying a cool reserve to the world, my self-control assured and seemingly effortless.  One brief kiss and the years dissolved; the past and the present merging into one singular thought that existed right now.  And right now, all that mattered was this connection, this sensation that began at our joined lips and traveled down my body, igniting every last molecule of my being into a wildfire of sensation.

I snapped.

My hands clawed at his shoulders, my mouth ravenous on his.  I’d always considered myself a good kisser, and I knew for a fact that Tristan was one, but there was no finesse in this.  We simply took, and took, and gave in the form of clashing teeth and warring tongues.

His hands moved to my hips, lifting me high against his body.  I’d longed for this body, this exact shape, every bend, bulge, and curve of him all that my body needed.  My legs wrapped around his waist, animalistic whimpers escaping my throat as his erection pushed hard against my belly and after I’d shifted just right, straight into my clit.