Slow Play (The Rules #3)(83)

I close my eyes, fighting off new tears that spring at his words. He doesn’t understand how much he means to me. He’s so worth it. I wish he could see how much.

There’s no way I can stay mad at him. He’s just being…exactly who he is. He’s not a liar. And I hate liars. Cheaters. Tristan is always open, to the point of being horribly blunt.

I either accept him as he is or walk.

“Take me to bed, Tristan,” I whisper, opening my eyes so that the new tears fall. He kisses them away, his lips lingering, a tortured sound coming from low in his throat. His arms tighten around me and I’ve never felt more cherished. “Please.”

I sweep her into my arms and carry her up the stairs, my heart thundering in my chest, my blood running hot. Fear still has its grip on me over what I could’ve lost. She almost ran out the door. She almost f*cking left me wearing nothing but my shirt. What the hell? How could I mess up what we have so badly? With just a few stupid words?

Words have never meant so much as they do right now between us. One wrong thing said could send everything crumbling down. I can’t afford that. Not yet. The end is coming, I’m sure of it—but not yet. I need to hold onto her as long as I can.

Alexandria loops her arms around my neck, her cheek resting on my shoulder. I hold her close, the both of us naked save for my shirt she’s wearing, though she never got a chance to button it. I can see every pretty inch of her and I would stare but I’m afraid I’ll trip on the stairs and hurt her. She’s so damn beautiful.

Mine.

My chest is tight and I swallow hard, thinking back over what we said. I was a total dick. No surprise. She was mean too. I started it with the label crap. She continued it by labeling me, quite accurately. Then she had to go and cry.

Her tears just about broke me. The last thing I ever want to see is my girl crying—over something I did. My heart cracked at witnessing those tears fill her eyes and slide down her cheeks. I meant what I said, that I’m not worth her crying over me. It’s true.

I also meant what I said when I told her I care about her. That’s true too. If she’d pushed for more I probably would’ve said something awful and ruined the moment. It’s best that I keep my lips shut.

And show her how much she means to me instead.

Nudging the bedroom door open with my foot, I stride inside and deposit her carefully so that she sits on the edge of the bed. She stares up at me, her hair falling down her back in golden waves, her eyes luminous as she watches me. I touch her cheek and lean in, kissing her. Putting all of my fear and worry into that one kiss, my lips hard, my tongue searching, both hands now cradling her face. She tips her head back and grabs hold of me, pulling me down so I fall on top of her. I brace my hands on the mattress, on either side of her head, never letting my mouth leave hers.

There’s no time for lingering, no time for teasing either. I need to be inside her. Now. I make my way up the mattress, taking her with me, my arm around her waist as I lift her. She has her arms around my neck, her mouth on my throat, whispering a bunch of nonsense like she usually does.

I eat up every one of those nonsensical words. Like she’s so overcome with wanting me she can’t speak coherently. I know the feeling. I’m a talker. I know just what to say in any situation. But with Alexandria, I’m moving through unchartered territory and managing to f*ck up spectacularly most of the time.

It sucks.

I reach for the condom on my bedside table and rear up on my knees, tearing into the wrapper and sliding the condom on. Alexandria tears off my shirt and then sprawls in front of me, spreading her legs, offering me a glimpse of heaven, otherwise known as her perfect *.

Fuck, I’ve turned into the corniest bastard on the planet.

“Hurry,” she whispers, rubbing her foot against my thigh. “I want you inside me.”

My hands tremble as I roll the condom the rest of the way on. I’m hard as a rock. I was inside her not even an hour ago and I’m already so overwhelmed with my need for her I can hardly see straight. She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, runs her hands along her sides, across her stomach, then back up to cup her breasts.

Ah, f*ck. That’s hot as hell, watching her touch herself. Maybe I can wait to get inside her…

“Keep doing that,” I tell her with a nod when she stops. Big eyes meet mine. “Touch yourself. I wanna watch.”

She hesitates, her hands still cupped around her breasts. I get a tiny glimpse, just a tease of a touch when she drifts her thumbs across her hard nipples. “Like this?” she asks, her voice shaky.

“Exactly like that,” I encourage.

Her hands slide down, across her stomach, over her hips. She spreads her legs wider, letting me see everything she’s got and I choke out a groan when she rests her hand over her pubic hair.

“Show me what you do when you’re all alone,” I whisper, my voice raw, my thoughts wild.

“I don’t kn—”

“Please,” I interrupt, making her frown. Fuck, why is she frowning? I want her happy. I want her hot for it. Hot for me.

A shuddery breath escapes her as she slides her hand down, fully covering her *. She remains still, closing her eyes, taking a deep breath so her chest rises, holds there for a moment before she exhales. Gathering up all her courage to prepare for what she’s about to do next.

I wait in barely contained anticipation.