Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika #3)(82)

He let me off the line, but I knew he wasn’t happy.

Dermot and I never told anyone that we were related.  We never had to.  Neither of us were answerable to anyone, so the world just thought we were close friends, or so I’d assumed.

It hadn’t occurred to me that my meet-ups with Dermot looked like dates.  I’d never had to worry about it before.

Andrew had been the kind of boyfriend that was understanding to a fault.  He’d never even questioned that I often liked to go out to dinner with another man.

“I’m seeing someone,” I told Dermot, after we’d ordered our food.

He looked surprised but not displeased.  “Well, that’s great.  Is it serious?”

My mouth twisted.  “Like a heart attack.  Whether we have a shot at anything lasting is another matter entirely.  I’ll keep you posted.”

“Have you known him long?”

It was the strangest thing.  I’d been raised with Dahlia, but Dermot was so much easier for me to open up to.  It’d been like that with us from the start.

And somehow, I found myself telling him our story, the long version—The Saga of Tristan and Danika.

The battles and the victories.

The defeats and the triumphs.

The tragedies and the trials.

Somewhere in the middle, I had him tearing up, which I’d never seen him do, and I tried to tell it all with less dramatic flair, but it was what it was.

“Wait, so you haven’t told him that you can’t…?” he asked, somewhere near the end.

I looked down at my lap.  “I don’t know how.”

“I’m so sorry, Danika.”

I shrugged it off.  “Anyway, do you mind if I tell him that you’re my half-brother?  I thought I should ask first, because of, well, you know.  And as I’m sure you’ve gathered, he’s the insanely jealous type.  He was none too pleased when he heard I was going to dinner with a man.”

“I don’t mind at all.  I don’t keep our relationship under wraps, Danika.  I’m sorry you thought that I did.”

“Well, I just thought, because of your mother, you’d want to keep it secret.”

“You’re not a secret, you’re a person.  My parents’ mess of a marriage is their business, and it will never affect the fact that you are my sister.”

That warmed my heart.  He was a good brother.

I went straight to Tristan’s after dinner.

He was still tense and upset, but nothing like he’d been when I’d gone to lunch with Andrew.

“Okay, let me have it,” he started in on me right away.  “What’s the big mystery about this buddy of yours?”

“He’s my brother.”

That deflated all the sass right out of him.  It was kind of nice.  I had a brief moment of wishing I could bottle that ability up.  It would make a good superpower.

I found myself storytelling for the second time that night, giving Tristan the full rundown on my deadbeat dad.

“Your dad hit on you?” he asked, shocked.

“You saw my mother.  I look just like her.  I guess he has a type.”

“Don’t try to pretend that is even remotely normal!  I ever see that guy, I’m kicking his ass.  Period.  That is happening.  Fuck, I think I’ve met that dude.  Un-f*cking-believable.”

I thought that about summed it up.

He started tugging me through his house, up the stairs, straight to his bedroom.  He cornered me against his unorthodox bed and started stripping me.  “You just tortured me for hours,” he said, voice low and gravelly.  “Now it’s my turn.”

TRISTAN

She loved to make cracks about what she called my ‘kinky’ bed.  I thought it was time I showed her what it could do.

I stripped her down to her little tiny thong and blindfolded her.  I looked my fill of that intoxicating sight before I took her into the bed and made her stand.

I fastened her arms above her with padded leather cuffs that attached to the ceiling of the sturdy bed.

And then I went to work on her with my mouth, starting at her jaw, working my slow way down her neck, her collarbone, spending extra time sucking at her puckered ni**les.  Gripping her br**sts into two perfect handfuls, I rolled them against my tongue, kneading.

I loved her body.  In fact, it was a little alarming how obsessed I was with it, the vast amount of hours I’d spent fantasizing about this right here.

I fisted my c**k as I nuzzled into her navel.  I was loud with it, and when she heard me working at my own fist, she moaned and squirmed.

I knelt in front of her and buried my face between her thighs, throwing her legs over my shoulders.  I shoved her panties to the side and went to town, using every tongue trick I had to bring her, again and again.

And then I went to work on her with my hands.

When I finally stood up and started f**king her vigorously, she was pliant under my hands.

After I came, I just kept pumping into her, letting her milk at me for a long time.

This right here.  Heaven.

“I love you,” I told her, not in the throes of passion, but in the clear moment after.  I would keep telling her, conditioning her to it.  I’d keep trying forever, if I had to, to make her trust me again.