Slow Play (The Rules #3)(72)

With him like this, I feel so damn vulnerable. And it’s been a long time since I’ve experienced this, and never this intense. I’ve kept myself closed off for so long, hidden in the shadows, trying to reestablish my footing. I told myself from the start I shouldn’t get involved with a guy like Tristan. He’d make me feel too exposed, too raw, too…everything.

And now here I am. Naked. Raw. Exposed. Vulnerable. He’s got his hands on me, his mouth on my skin, worshiping my body, making me feel so good, so wonderfully, deliciously…

Alive.

“You’re shaking, angel.” He touches my hip with his fingers, drifts them down, through my pubic hair. “Do I make you nervous?”

I nod, my throat too dry to speak.

“Why?”

I shake my head, not wanting to answer.

“You make me nervous too.”

His quiet confession makes my head jerk in surprise. I glance down at him, my eyes wide, my lips parted though I still can’t talk. He nods in response, leaning in to drop a kiss to the very top of my right thigh, his warm mouth lingering on my skin like he doesn’t want to stop. I shiver at the tender gesture.

“It’s true,” he murmurs. “You overwhelm me. My feelings for you—I don’t understand them.”

I run a hand through his soft hair, silently encouraging him to go on.

“You’re too good for me, you know that?” He tilts his head back, our gazes meeting. His blue eyes are so dark, that familiar turbulent storm raging within them. “I’ll probably end up only hurting you in the end.”

I flinch at his choice of words. The end. Who wants to hear that, especially when what we have is only beginning?

“You consume me, Alexandria,” he continues, his voice rough. “I spent all night with you and the next day all I could imagine was when I would next see you again. You haunt my thoughts, my dreams. I don’t think like that. I never think like that.” He shakes his head, looking almost irritated. “You’re the first woman that’s ever made me feel like this. Though I tried to deny it.”

He did?

“I tried to tell myself I didn’t need you, but f*ck it.” He rises to his feet, almost intimidating as he stands so close to me, his hands still on my hips, his body radiating heat. He’s all I can see, hear, feel. “I want you, Ali. I want you so f*cking bad it’s killing me to just play around with you or whatever the hell we’re doing. When all I really want to do is get you in that bed and f*ck you until the both of us can’t see straight.”

Oh. My entire body goes weak at his words, the fluttering in my stomach making me jittery. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, all thoughts of wanting to take this slow in order to protect myself flying right out the window.

“I can’t make you any flowery promises. I can’t say that one of us or the both of us won’t get hurt at some point. But I’m—I’m f*cking desperate to be inside you.” He releases my hips to hold my face, tilting it up so I have no choice but to stare into his blazing eyes. He hesitates, I see his Adam’s apple move when he swallows and wait for whatever he has to say next. “I just want to feel close to you,” he whispers, his admission pulled from somewhere deep. “I want to look you in the eyes when I enter you for the first time. And I want to be the one you hold onto when I make you come.”

I throw myself at him. There’s no other way to describe it. I fling my body at his and he grunts, his arms going around me, catching me before I fall. I find his mouth, my kiss desperate, his all consuming. He kisses me like he’s putting all of his heart and soul into it, his mouth, his tongue hungry for mine. I rub all over him, trying to climb up his body like some sort of crazy woman and he steers us toward the bed, collapsing on top of it and taking me with him.

“Baby. Baby, slow down,” he whispers, but I can’t. I want him too much. He’s laying on his back, me sprawled over him and I meld my mouth with his, kissing him long and deep. Never wanting it to end.

The things he says to me, the meaning behind his words, the soulful tone of his voice—he knows just how to crash through all of my defenses. Makes me wonder why I wanted to wait when I can have him, all of him, right now.

“I want you naked,” I tell him after I break our kiss, sliding down his body so I can shove up his T-shirt, pull on the waistband of his track pants. Our hands are everywhere, bumping into each other as we make quick work of his clothes so the both of us are finally bare. Our legs tangle as he rolls me over, his hips thrusting against mine as he kisses me, his tongue keeping rhythm with his movements.

I run my hands over the smooth expanse of his back, his muscles bunching beneath my palms. He pulls away from my mouth to kiss my neck, his hands cupping my breasts, thumbs playing with my nipples.

“You’re not going to believe this,” he mutters against my neck. “But I don’t have a condom.”

Shocked, I shove at his shoulders so he has no choice but to lift away from me. “Are you serious? You? Tristan Prescott, the player of all players, doesn’t have one condom?”

He actually looks embarrassed, even downright bashful. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to take it slow. I was trying to abide by your rules.”

I touch his cheek and he returns his gaze to mine. “There are no rules when it comes to us.”