Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2)(7)

My phone started ringing, and I cringed inwardly before answering.

“Hey…” I began.

“She f**king walked up to me!” his angry voice was loud enough that I held the phone away from my ear. “I wanted nothing to do with her. I never do. Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

“We’re driving back to the party now.”

“We’re ten minutes out!” Frankie called loud enough to be heard on his end.

“Are you mad about this bullshit?” Tristan asked, his voice low and mean and just his tone would have had me mad if I wasn’t already.

“I don’t know. Are you mad enough about Natalie sleeping with Dean after you broke up to fight him over it?”

He cursed on the other end. “That is not what happened. Dean is just trying to start shit, as usual.”

“Answer me this then: Are you upset that they slept together?”

“I’m not mad at Natalie. Believe me when I say that I couldn’t care less who she hooks up with. I’m upset with Dean. He’s crossing boundaries we set up f**king years ago, and he’s starting shit between you and me when there’s no call for it, and it’s none of his f**king business.”

He both had and hadn’t answered my question, but I suddenly felt silly about the entire thing. He’d only been talking to her, and it wasn’t like they’d gone off alone.

His voice suddenly got very soft and from the first word, I knew I was done for. “Let’s not fight, sweetheart. You know you’re the only one I want.”

Did I know that? The man had gotten around before he met me. Hell, he’d been getting around even after that. But he had been on his best behavior since we’d become exclusive. I should know, since we were practically attached at the hip.

“I don’t want to fight either,” I conceded.

I glared at Frankie as she sent a smirk in my direction. Everyone knew that Tristan had me wrapped around his little finger.

“Does this mean we skip straight to the make-up sex?” Tristan’s low voice rumbled across the line, making things low in my stomach clench. “Want me to pull your hair and give you a rough ride, sweetheart? Fuck the angst out?”

I snuck a peek at Frankie, and by the irrepressible grin on her face, she was hearing every word he was saying. “I’ll see you in a minute,” I barked at him, hanging up.

“You’re blushing,” Frankie observed with a laugh.

“That man is shameless,” I grumbled.

CHAPTER THREE

DANIKA

Tristan was standing in the middle of the street, arms crossed over his chest, as we drove up. He looked ready to fight…or pull some hair and do some hard f**king.

“Man, he’s got some impressive arms,” Frankie remarked.

Did he ever. They were bulging and tatted up and looking ready to bust the seams of his black T-shirt.

He looked mean, and gorgeous, and his glowering expression did contrary things to my libido.

God, I wanted him.

“I’m not gonna lie, he is f**king hot, if you’re into that kind of thing, which it’s apparent you are.”

I barely heard Frankie as I watched Tristan stride around to my side of the car, pulling the door open before we were even fully stopped at the curb.

“Relax, loverboy,” Frankie called to him, “we were only gone an hour.”

He barely answered her, just giving her the most perfunctory wave before he tugged me out of the car.

“Let’s go home,” he growled, pretty much dragging me after him down the sidewalk.

“Goodnight!” Frankie shouted loudly.

“Call you tomorrow!” I yelled back, suddenly just as anxious as Tristan to get us to his car. All it had taken was one smoldering glance.

“You like fighting,” I accused him, my voice low.

“Hardly. What I like is f**king you, and I can’t do that when you’re ditching me at parties.”

I just glared at him, no comeback coming to mind. It didn’t help that he was making me equal parts horny and mad.

“We grabbed a burger. You were busy, so I don’t see how you can complain.”

“What do you want me to do, run when she comes near me? Should I have shoved her in the pool?”

That painted an appealing picture that had me smiling. “You might have earned some brownie points, if you had.”

He grimaced as he handed me into the car.

I changed the subject, just as tired as he was of talking about Natalie. “You sure you’re good to drive?”

“Yeah. We were talking more than drinking.” He got behind the wheel, not looking at me as he started the car.

“Take off your panties.” His tone was casual, idle even.

My ni**les tightened, a heavy, delicious feeling pooling between my legs. “We aren’t that far from your apartment,” I protested, even as my hands inched my skirt up, pulling at the tiny string of my panties. I yanked them down impatiently.

“Just a warm up, pudding.”

I swallowed hard as he started driving with one hand, and the other went to my upper thigh, rubbing hard. “I’m already warmed up.” I’d come a long way from needing much foreplay. He had me well tuned, in a constant state of rut that matched his own.