Page 9 of The Wedding Ruse

She had barely gotten the salad put together when Tristan came in. He was soaked to the bone. His already fitted shirt now dripped as it clung to him, showing every muscle he had underneath.

“Some help you are.” Tristan chuckled, pulling her out of her daze.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” She ran and shut the door behind him.

“Don’t apologize, I was just giving you a hard time.”

“I—” Every thought in her head flew away as she spun around.

Tristan was in the middle of the room stripping out of his wet t-shirt. Everything she thought she had seen through the wet shirt was so much better out of it. Her tongue crept out and licked her lips without thought.

“Grace, I am trying so hard to keep myself under control here and be a gentleman, but I promise if you keep looking at me like that, I will not be able to hold on any longer.”

She heard the growl in his voice. Saw the heat flare to life in his eyes, fiercer than it was before. She knew exactly what he meant, and it did nothing to make her want to stop looking at him, she was enjoying this trip more with each second.

A low growl came from him as he stalked across the room and crushed her mouth with his. She readily gave herself over to it. As she wrapped both arms around his neck, his hands dropped to her ass, lifting her up and pulling her towards him.

He pinned her there, in the air, pressed between him and the door in a kiss that could only be described as bone melting. She broke away and took a deep breath, but Tristan apparently didn’t need to breathe as he moved right down to her neck, kissing a trail from her ear to her shoulder.

“Tell me you want this too?” His voice was so low and gravely she didn’t recognize it even as she nodded. “I want to hear you say the words, sweetheart.”

“I want this so much Tristan.” She finally managed to whisper.

Tristan hesitated less than a second. “Hold on tight.”

He pulled her away from the wall and carried her into his room. She couldn’t help but giggle as she held on tight and buried her face into his shoulder. When they reached the bed, Tristan laid her down on the bed and climbed over her.

“This is not a laughing matter.” He joked.

“I would have to agree with you there.”

Tristan’s mouth was on hers in the next instant. She didn’t even have to think, her lips parted on their own as Tristan’s tongue slid in as it already had twice that afternoon. The rush was gone from his kiss and it was lazier, exploratory, still just as hot.

“I have waited so long to kiss you like this.” Tristan said as he broke the kiss and rested his forehead on hers.

Grace froze. Could it possibly be that he kept calling her because he wanted to see her as much as she wanted to see him? There was no way.

“I hate to rush things, and I mean that a lot, but I have to get these wet jeans off before we ruin the covers.”

“Don’t let me stop you.” Grace copied his own move and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be?” Tristan backed away from her and stood to remove his now plastered on jeans.

She was positive that had the jeans not been soaked through, he would have been the most graceful person she’d even seen. Instead the jeans required a lot of effort to get out of as they clung to him. She backed up onto the bed and propped herself on one elbow to watch him and tried to contain her laughter as he struggled.

“I thought we already discussed this not being a laughing matter?”

“That was something else entirely. This,” she motioned up and down his legs, “is definitely a laughing matter.”

Tristan stopped fighting with the jeans that were mostly off. “It seems to me that I am the only one that is getting undressed here.” He pointed out.

Grace blushed. She sat up and struggled to find her confidence. She grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it up over her head leaving only her bra behind.

“I had wondered.”

“What?” Grace’s eyes went wide with panic as she covered herself with her sweater.

“Don’t do that.” He climbed back onto the bed and laid her down as he removed the sweater from her hands and tossed it to the floor. “I have always wondered how far down your blush goes.”

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