Shattered(14)

"We could, but I think that'd just turn you on." Trystan laughs as they walk up the stairs together and reach the upper landing. He follows Mari into her room. On her bed are some towels and a pair of jeans and a shirt, folded and stacked into a neat pile.

The smile fades from Trystan's lips. "What's this?"

Mari walks over to the pile and thrusts it at Trystan before she turns to the little bathroom in her room. "I thought you'd want to shower and change." She's opening the bathroom door and flicks on the lights. "I can reapply the make up around your neck in the morning. I'm guessing the bruise is an awesome shade of green now. Mine is." She lifts the hem of her shirt. The bruise on her belly is purple with green tinges around the edges. She lifts her gaze and looks at him, still holding onto her shirt.

Trystan's mouth has gone dry. He steps toward her and sets the clothes and towels down on the counter before slipping his hand around her middle. "I'm so sorry for this. So sorry." His voice is soft, barely audible. Something creeps up his throat and chokes him.

Trystan's fingers trace the bruise slowly, gently. Mari takes a slow breath, but exhales jaggedly. When he looks up, he sees her eyes and realizes what his touch did. While he was mourning his previous actions, she was frozen by his touch. Mari closes her eyes and blinks slowly, like she's trying to snap out of it. But she can't. Not as long as he's touching her like this.

Trystan withdraws his touch and runs his hand through his hair. Mari's chest swells as she breathes in. It draws attention to her breasts. It makes him wonder what it would feel like to hold them in his hands. Trystan tears his gaze away. Although Mari said she changed her mind that one time, she hasn't mentioned sex again. Trystan already decided that he won't pressure her. He won't sleep with her no matter what happens tonight.

Trystan gathers his wits and picks up the clothes and towels. "Thank you for this. I won't be long." Trystan slips past her into the bathroom and closes the door. For a moment, all he does it stare at the knob. He wants her so badly. He can't stand it. Every thought that fills his head is more forbidden than the last. The way Mari pressed him into the wall before set him on fire. Trystan knows he needs to calm down and put some distance between them or they'll end up tangled in her sheets faster than he can blink.

Trystan turns on the shower, making it as cold as he can tolerate.

~MARI~

My heart is racing too hard. I didn't think that I could feel more attracted to Trystan than I already did, but when he touched me like that - oh my God. It was like every inch of my body was burning. I couldn't stop staring at his hands, willing them to touch me. I still haven't moved. I'm leaning against the wall, and finally hear the shower turn on. I wonder what Trystan looks like in there with the water running over his body. I think about how much I'd like to run my hands over him. I don't even realize that's what I'm thinking. I just feel the palm of my hand grow hotter and more sensitive. I think about his bare skin and the water. I blink hard, trying to free the thoughts from my mind.

Scolding myself, I push off the wall. What's the matter with me? When did I become this hornball who only thinks about sex? I pad across the room and grab a pair of sweats from my dresser. I strip quickly with my back to the bathroom door in case Trystan walks out. The water is still running, but I'm too nervous to think.

I'm mad at myself for acting like this, for melting so fast. He barely touched me and I'm falling to pieces. I tug my sweatshirt over my head and pull on a pair of fuzzy socks. This is the least sexy outfit I own. The sweatshirt is way too big. It swims on me. I yank my hair into a ponytail and jump up on the bed and flick on the TV. I try to stop thinking about him, but I can't. I watch a show without really seeing it.

When the water turns off, my heart beats faster. I wish I were a sane person. I wish for a lot of things that I can't have. I decide that I'm not doing anything with him tonight. I want more time. Plus, the bruises on my stomach and the way it aches, I just would rather he saw me the way I usually am. I realize what I'm thinking and feel the heat burn across my cheeks.

Trystan pulls open the bathroom door. He's bare-chested, wearing the new jeans around his hips, with no shoes. His hair is so dark and still dripping. There's a towel in his hand. Trystan wraps it around his shoulders. He notices my blush and says, "I love it when you do that." He smiles at me, winks, and then runs the towel over his head.

"I hate it when I do that, which seems to be all the time. It's not becoming at all." I realize I sound like my mother and flinch.

But Trystan doesn't care. He steps toward me with that sexy smile he always wears. "It's sexy as hell." He tugs at the towel and adds, "I can't say the same for this, and unless I wear a towel all night, you're going to see bruises. The thing is..." he looks down for a second. When his blue eyes lift, he meets my gaze. "I don't want you to fuss about it all night. The past is the past. I can't fix it. I would, if I could." Trystan's breathing hard, his chest is rising and falling too quickly. It pains me to see him like this.

"You can leave the towel on, if you want. Or..." I smile. I have an idea. I jump off my bed and cross the room. My dresser drawer has exactly what I need. Without thinking twice about it, I grab a pair of scissors and slice through the bottom of my sweatshirt. Trystan looks at me like I'm crazy. He flinches, his hands lifting until he realizes what I'm doing. I cut off the front bottom half of the shirt. It reveals my rainbow bruises as if they were framed. The scrap of fabric falls to the floor. I put the sheers down and turn back to him. "Better?"