Slow Play (The Rules #3)(44)

Slowly he opens his eyes and lifts his forehead from mine, licking his lips, his gaze never leaving me. “I like you,” he says in that sexy low rumble.

Words fail me. What in the world does he mean?

“Have you ever met someone you felt an instant connection to? Like, the minute your eyes met, you couldn’t look away no matter how much you tried? You go to bed at night with them on your mind and when you wake up you wonder how they slept? And throughout the day you hope like hell you catch a glimpse of them but when you don’t, you’re disappointed?”

My throat is so dry it’s hard for me to swallow.

“And when you finally do run into them, you’re so damn excited, you’re dying to talk to them, look at them—touch them. But then you realize…that maybe you want something they can’t give. Or worse, they don’t feel the same way. That maybe you’re overreacting and wanting it all when you never want it all. You’re afraid to want it all.” He pauses, clears his throat and drops his head so he’s not looking at me any longer. “So you shut off those feelings because you don’t want to be rejected. You’d rather move through life completely untouchable.”

My knees are shaking at his sweet yet sad words. Is he really talking about me? He’s afraid he could be rejected? I find it hard to believe that the player of all players Tristan Prescott is saying this.

I run my hands up his chest, curling my fingers around his shoulders, needing him to finish but unable to say a word of encouragement. What if I’m wrong? What if he’s talking about something else entirely? Or maybe he’s saying a bunch of bullshit to get me naked.

I don’t know what to think.

“O-one minute,” I whisper, my voice shaking and my heart in my throat. I’m probably being mean but oh my God, he’s been so incredibly mean to me tonight. I still can’t believe the way he flirted with Toni while blatantly ignoring me. I don’t care how sweet his words are, he acted like an *.

Tristan lifts his head, his blue eyes turbulent, like a sudden violent storm. “That’s exactly how I feel about you. You scare the f*ck out of me, Alexandria.”

We stare at each other, the house eerily quiet, the only sound the thundering of my heart in my ears. He shifts closer, his questioning gaze dropping, lingering on my lips for the briefest, most intense moment I think I’ve ever experienced. His gaze returns to mine, and my mouth tingles in anticipation. I don’t give him my answer with words. I merely close my eyes, part my lips.

And wait for him.

He’s there in a second, his mouth on mine, his hand curling in my hair, his other hand on my waist, his hot fingers slipping beneath my sweater to touch my bare skin. I gasp at first contact, my lips parting further and he slips his tongue inside my mouth, deepening the kiss.

He tastes faintly of beer. Mint. Tristan. My hands move to the back of his head as if I have no control over them and I clutch at his hair, pushing my body close to his. I can feel him, hard and thick pressing against the fly of his jeans and an answering throb pulses between my legs. My butt is also buzzing, which is…odd.

Oh. It’s my phone.

I break the kiss and reach for my phone, pulling it out of my back jeans pocket. A frustrated growl sounds from deep in Tristan’s throat as I check the glowing screen.

Your ten minutes are up. Get your ass out here.

Glancing up, I study Tristan’s tortured expression, his hair a mess from my hands, his cheeks ruddy from booze and our kiss, I can only assume—or maybe from his confession. It took a lot of guts for him to say what he did. But is it enough? I’m not ready to forgive him yet. I’ve learned by example, considering that was my mother’s problem—she forgave my father far too easily and look where it got her? Prison.

“I have to go,” I whisper shakily.

“Alexandria,” he starts but I shake my head, pushing at his chest so he has no choice but to back away from me.

“I have to, Tristan.” I smile tremulously. “Good night.”

His brows furrow and he looks so confused I almost feel sorry for him. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have to work.” And go out with Steven.

“After work?” He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. “I want to see you.”

“I—” I swallow hard. “I have plans.”

His expression grows dark. “With who?”

My phone buzzes and I glance at it. Another text from Kelli.

Hurry up. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here!

“I have to go. Kelli’s waiting for me.” I push past him and head for the kitchen, thankful no one is there so I have to make small talk or whatever. I’m practically running, my hand landing on the door handle when he grabs me from behind, his hands at my waist, turning me around so I have to face him.

“Whatever you’re doing tomorrow night, cancel your plans,” he demands. “We need to finish this.”

“There’s nothing to finish,” I tell him. “I heard what you had to say.”

He stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “And that’s it? That’s your reaction?”

“What do you want me to do? Fall at your feet? Tell you you’re forgiven? Strip off my clothes and beg you to f*ck me?”

“Well…” He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah.”