Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)(13)

I wrenched my hands free, turning to glare at him. “It’s not about chewing you a new one, you ass. It’s about things that go on in this apartment when I’m away that I won’t stand for. It’s not about talk, it’s about change—”

“Okay. Fine,” he interrupted, looking earnest. “You tell me what you need and I’ll see it done. Change away.”

I set my jaw into a stubborn line, knowing that I was going to go down in the band’s history for being a bitch for this. “No more groupies in the apartment. And wherever you’re staying in L.A., for the recording, no groupies there, either. Girlfriends, dates, fine, but these sluts I see today, have got to go.”

He gave a brief nod, turning his head to address the room. “New house rules. Any chick that isn’t a girlfriend needs to leave. And since I know Dean doesn’t have a girlfriend, that’s all of you.”

Of course Dean, who was still on the couch, had something to say about that. “Fuck you, man. This is my house, too. If you get to have your pus—”

“If you finish that f**king sentence, you know what’s going to happen. Now, clear the room. The lease is under my name. If you have a problem with the new house rule, you can get the f**k out, too.”

There was a lot of muttering and movement, but everyone seemed to be obeying.

Tristan pulled me out of the way as the slutty parade started to file out. He watched for a moment, seeming to think it was settled, and turned back to me, moving against me until my shoulders hit the wall.

“Anything else?” he asked, but he didn’t even give me a chance to answer before he was slanting his lips over mine, hungry and hot, and just what I’d been waiting for. It had been weeks since I’d seen him, and I was kissing him back instantly, moaning as his tongue invaded. He thrust it in and out, f**king my mouth.

He pinned my hands to the wall, sliding a thigh between mine, pushing it high, until I was riding it, my hips moving in circles to rub against him restlessly. It wasn’t enough, and I hooked my leg behind his hip, every part of me working to bring his hardness into my core.

He groaned, working his hips between my thighs until we were fitted. Our clothes were in the way, but the contact was just in the perfect spot, and I writhed against him, rubbing my clit against his cock, working to a fever pitch in seconds.

“Get a room,” Dean said loudly.

Tristan ripped his mouth away, turning his head to bark, “Privacy! Now!”

Dean muttered something that I couldn’t quite make out, but sure enough, he obeyed.

I’d witnessed this exchange countless times.

The instant we were completely alone, Tristan began stripping me. He started with my tank top, peeling it off, opening the front clasp of my bra with one swift movement, and slipping it off my arms.

He went down to his knees to work on my jeans. They were tight, so he had to peel them off slowly, taking my panties with them.

Being stripped was distracting, but not as distracting as his kiss had been, and as I became slightly less distracted, I found my mind moving to the thing that was bugging me, stupid as it was.

“You wanted her. You were hard for her.”

He paused briefly, then resumed peeling. “Sweetheart, I was sleeping. That was morning wood, and for your information, I was dreaming of you when she interrupted me. I was expecting you, and when I felt someone get on top of me, that was the first thought that occurred. It didn’t last but a second, though, before I realized that it was some strange woman.”

That appeased me, but mostly because skanky groupies were now banned from the house, so it wouldn’t be happening again.

The second he got my jeans free of my feet, he pulled my legs over his shoulders and buried his face between my thighs, effectively stopping any more thinking on my part. His tongue worked on me expertly, his big fingers delving inside of me, working into a rhythm that had me mindless and writhing against the wall, his shoulders pushing between my legs all that kept me upright.

He’d been growing his hair out, per my request, and I buried my hands in it, gripping for dear life.

“I love you,” I cried out as I came.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he said, as he freed himself from my legs, rising. He stripped off his boxers in one smooth motion, moving flush against me, and fitting himself between my legs. “I can’t take these separations. I’m leaning towards saying f**k this record deal. You’re my whole life. What’s the point of it all, if I can’t be with you all the f**king time?”

I couldn’t respond, as he was wrapping my legs around his hips. He lined himself up at my entrance, pushing in that first perfect inch.

“Wait, condom,” I said, not thinking at all. It was just sort of an instinct for me.

He froze. “Are you off the pill?”

I turned my face away, flushing. “No,” I said, very quietly, wondering what can of worms I’d just opened.

He caught what my instinctive response meant instantly. He turned my face so I was looking at him, and the raw pain in his eyes just about undid me. “You don’t trust me anymore? You think I’m screwing around on you?” His voice was devastated.

I shook my head, well shook it as much as I could, with my jaw held in his viselike grip. “I don’t think that. We wouldn’t be doing this at all if I thought that. I didn’t mean for that to come out. It was just my instinctive reaction. I guess I’m feeling insecure.”