Slow Play (The Rules #3)(81)

Sex. Eat. Laugh. Watch something together, maybe even a movie. Until our hands start to wander and our lips meet like she’s a magnet and I’m steel—there’s no way I can’t resist. Then it starts all over again.

It’s nice that Shep and Jade are gone, Jade having taken Shep to her mom’s house for the holiday. So we’ve taken over their role as domestic bliss, f*cking on every available surface we can find.

Yeah. I’m so ready to live on my own. Only a few more months of this shit and then I’m out of here.

Alexandria’s only worked a few quick afternoon shifts but she’ll be back at it tomorrow and Saturday, her boss having prepared fully for Black Friday and the weekend. I need to take my chance where I can find it.

So tonight is going to be a f*ck fest of epic proportions.

“Weren’t Steven and Kelli ridiculous today?” Alexandria asks when I finally break our kiss.

I frown. Why the hell are we talking about them now? Women. They love to gossip. “They were beyond ridiculous. I assumed Steven would take his chance and tell his parents—hell all of us—that he’s been seeing Kelli.”

Alexandria gave me a few deets on what’s happening between Kelli and Steven. Not that I was particularly interested, and she knew it. I’ll leave the gossipy-relationship-type stuff to her.

“I know. It was so weird. I don’t get them.” She shakes her head, her hair spreading everywhere on my pillow.

“I’m sure people don’t get us either.” I kiss her softly. Her pretty lips, her delicate upturned nose, her sweet chin. Her rounded cheeks, her eyelids when she closes her eyes and finally, her forehead. I’d start all over again and kiss her in the exact same pattern but she’d probably shove me away.

Or maybe not.

This could be an analogy of our budding relationship, I’m thinking.

“You think so?” she asks tentatively.

“I’m sure.” How could they not? I’m blown away that she wants to stick around me. I’m blown away that I want to stick around her. Not that she isn’t amazing and sweet and fun and sexy as f*ck but this goes against my beliefs, spending time with Alexandria like we’re in a relationship or something.

I’m going against everything I stand for. I threw one and done out the window with ease. It’s f*cking insane.

“Well, I get us,” she admits softly. “Do you?”

Aw, hell. How do I answer her question without f*cking this up?

I wait for him to say something, my chin resting on his chest, my gaze locked on his face. He appears conflicted, like he doesn’t know which way to go with his answer and I’m mentally preparing to hear the worst.

This is Tristan I’m dealing with, after all.

He settles his hand on my head, smoothing my hair back, almost like he’s petting me. I love it when he does that and my eyes start to close as he lulls me into this false sense of security. As if nothing can go wrong as long as Tristan’s touching me like this.

I should know better. I lived most of my life with a false sense of security. Always believing that everything was just fine when in reality, my entire world had been on the verge of collapse for years. Until finally it actually collapsed—and I was the only one left behind to pick up the pieces.

Well, no more. Reality is my best friend. So if Tristan says the wrong thing, tells me he still doesn’t want anything serious, then forget it. I’m out. Moving on.

Even though it’ll hurt more than I want to admit.

“I get us,” he finally says, his deep voice soft. He runs his hand over my hair until it settles on my back, between my shoulder blades. “It really shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks, right?”

Opening my eyes, I find he’s watching me, concern in his deep blue gaze. “Do you worry what someone else might think?”

“I don’t worry about shit,” he mutters and I pinch his side, making him yelp. “Jesus woman, what was that for?”

“You don’t have to pull your ‘I’m Tristan f*cking Prescott—king of the damn world and can do whatever I want’ act on me.” I pause, hoping he realizes that I need this from him. “Be real with me.”

He skims my hair away from my forehead, traces his index finger over one of my eyebrows, then the other. “I’m the most real I can get when I’m with you.”

I swear my heart skips a beat. Maybe even two beats. “Yeah?”

Tristan nods. “But I don’t want to label it, what’s happening between us.”

“Oh.” Of course, he doesn’t. Meaning, I’m not his girlfriend, he’s not my boyfriend so we’re just…what? Two people f*cking? Isn’t that the punch line to an old joke?

Great. I’ve been rendered a punch line. My life couldn’t get any worse.

“You sound disappointed.”

“That’s because I am.” I pull away from him and sit up in bed, tucking the sheet high so it covers my chest. I’m not in the mood to be exposed, especially after what he just said. “Everything comes with a label, Tristan, whether you like it or not.”

“Really? And what’s my label?” He sits up too, frustration clearly vibrating off his big body. I’m pissed at him yet can still appreciate just how damn good looking he is. Hair sticking up everywhere, completely naked, a white sheet bunched around his hips so only his magnificent chest is on display, his expression one of complete irritation. Irritation is still a great look on him, the bastard. He probably hates that we’re having this conversation when we could be having sex—his favorite pastime.