Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)(33)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DANIKA

I found him talking to Frankie and Estella and a small crowd of strangers.

I was a little confused about Frankie and Estella, since Frankie swore up and down that they weren’t technically dating, even though they were spending plenty of time together. Estella stood very close to Frankie, her body language revealing her crush at a glance.

Frankie, on the other hand, stood very aloof, arms crossed over her chest, barely seeming to notice that the other woman was practically fawning over her.

I moved into the small circle of people, slipping under Tristan’s stiff arm without a word.

He didn’t so much as twitch, not sparing me even a glance. His arm was held stiff, barely touching my shoulders, in fact making an effort to avoid as much contact as possible.

He was pissed.

I leaned into his side, my hand going to his abs, rubbing at the hard ridges prominent under his thin T-shirt as Frankie explained her filming schedule with the small crowd of L.A. hipster people that I didn’t know.

I watched in rapt fascination as Tristan’s other hand moved to mine, and pulled it carefully away from his body, keeping me from touching him.

He was so pissed.

Men were strange creatures, I thought. Crazy aliens, really.

I waited a few minutes after he released my hand, then took up rubbing his stomach again, kneading at the firm flesh, working up his ribs to rub at one swollen peck. I was getting myself worked up by the time he grabbed my hand and slowly pulled it away. Again.

I patiently waited him out, pretending to listen to the group conversation with interest, slowly bringing my hand up to rub his abs again. I knew for a fact that even a pissed off Tristan couldn’t turn me down for long. The last time I’d put him in a pissy mood, all I’d had to do was go braless for a morning to get him to completely forget about it. He tugged me away again. I waited him out. Again.

The next time I slipped my hand under his shirt, rubbing directly against his skin, pressing my br**sts into his side. It was taking him longer each time to pull my hand off, and this time it took him the longest of all, and I heard his breath hitch when he did it.

I waited patiently, then began to rub him again, over his shirt. He just let me, and I knew I’d won. We’d had plenty of stupid fights, but I was determined that this was not going to be one of them.

I continued to touch him, not looking at him, just pressing hard against him, my hand softly rubbing.

I loved the feel of him like nothing else, his firm flesh flexing under my fingers. I dragged my hand up every hard ridge in his abdomen, then back down, over and over, working myself into a state, becoming needy for more. More skin, more privacy, just more. I used the heel of my hand to rub harder.

Finally, my body wound tight, I turned my head the slightest fraction, and quickly, furtively, I bit softly into his chest, loving the feel of him under my teeth.

I wasn’t quick or furtive enough.

“Don’t mind us. Go right ahead and maul each other,” Frankie called out casually.

I ignored her.

She laughed.

“Excuse me,” Tristan said in a hard, quiet voice. He extricated himself from me, turned on his heel, and strode away. I stared after him, a little dumbstruck. What the hell was his problem?

Frankie moved closer, and spoke more quietly. “What’s up with him?”

I shrugged, giving Estella a small wave where she’d remained standing, chatting with hipster number whomever.

“How’s it going with Estella?” I asked her, changing the subject.

Frankie’s expression became very neutral. “Who knows? We’re just hanging out. She’s hard to read, but I think she’s just curious about me. I am a curiosity.”

“I don’t think that’s it. I think she’s into you. Like, really into you. What’s hard to read is if you’re into her.”

Frankie didn’t look at all convinced. “I’m not investing myself either way. Like I said, we’re just hanging out. She’s fun to spend time with.”

I studied her, not believing it. I’d have bet she was more cautious than disinterested, but that obviously wasn’t the way she wanted to present it.

“Does she like…that stuff you like?” I asked.

She laughed. “No, I don’t think so. At least, she’s never done any of it, which is about the same thing. Like I said, we’re just hanging out.”

“So you don’t do anything? Like whatever you were doing in the back of my car type of stuff?”

She made a dismissive motion with her hand. “We do some of that stuff, just messing around, though. Friendly type of stuff.”

I felt my mouth curving wryly. “That sounds familiar. Here’s some advice: If your friendly stuff ends in any orgasms, you are kidding yourself that you are just hanging out.”

She nodded at me, her smile mocking. “Well, I guess you would know. What’s going on with you and stud muffin, anyway? He’s in an odd mood.”

And here we’d come, full circle. Frankie was too tenacious to accept a subject change for long.

“He’s mad at me over something stupid.”

“How stupid?”

“Really stupid.”

“Alright, spill it. What stupid thing did you do? Let me guess! Since this is Tristan, and he is mad at you, and not punching somebody else, it’s gotta be something where you, like, hurt his feelings? Am I getting warm?”