Page 67 of Off Script

“What about our talk?”

“Talking is overrated.”

Jada pushed against Tristan’s chest, stopping him from leaning in farther. “We both agreed. We’re supposed to be platonic partners in crime, not . . . whatever this is.”

“But don’t you want to find out what ‘whatever this is’ really means? Our Bonnie and Clyde act could be much more interesting.”

Jada threw him a skeptical look. “They died in a hail of gunfire.”

“Semantics,” Tristan purred, then pressed his lips to hers, doing exactly what she suspected he would: taking over. Over her sense of reason and any bit of decorum she had left.

Scooping her up in his strong arms, Tristan placed her on the dryer. As he stroked her breasts, her nipples tightened at his touch. The silky fabric of her dress no longer felt like a barrier. With each caress, the sane part of Jada faded away. She gave in, letting her own hands roam across Tristan’s chest.

“Jada . . . I’m probably pushing my luck here, but I want to touch you.” Tristan spoke in between delivering kisses to Jada’s neck. Her pulse raced at his breath against her skin. She let out a nervous laugh.

“You are touching me.”

“Yeah, but not here.” Tristan’s sneaky tone made sense when his fingers slid up the inside of her thigh. Jada tensed but her body simultaneously began to heat up, especially in one area that was about to get some much-needed attention.

“Tristan—”

Whatever Jada was going to say died on her lips when he stroked her through her panties. It felt good. Too damn good. She wanted more, even if it was a wrong time, wrong place situation. When she let out a whimper, Tristan smiled.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“It can get better,” he said. Then he proved it by sliding two of his fingers inside her. Jada’s warm, moist heat engulfed him, and he let out a moan of his own.

“I like being here,” Tristan said. He added some force behind his words as he probed her farther, making his point. “I like exploring you. Do you enjoy it too?”

Jada gasped as he touched the holy grail of erogenous zones for the first time, rubbing the sensitive skin playfully. Not too hard, but just right. Enough to send an exciting jolt through her.

“Answer me, Jada,” Tristan demanded, stopping. Jada almost whined when he ceased his movements.

“What?” she asked, foggy on what he’d originally said.

“Don’t you love that I finally have my hands on you, inside you?”

Too embarrassed to answer, Jada averted her eyes and nodded. Tristan didn’t let her hide for long, forcing her to look at him.

“Tell me how much,” he goaded her, flicking that special spot again.

“Don’t tease me. You already know.” Feeling surprisingly bold, Jada spread her legs wider so he’d have more access and then pulled on his hand, grinding into it to urge him on. She’d never been this demanding during any of her past sexual encounters. Not that there had been many, but when there was one, she’d always been rather passive. But with Tristan, she felt hot, ready, uncharacteristically aggressive. Empowered.

“True. I can feel how badly you want this,” Tristan said, moving his fingers through her, toying with her. His ministrations spurred on her saucy, new attitude.

“You’re right. I don’t want to talk anymore. Keep going or I’ll scream.” Jada tugged on his hair as a warning, but he smirked.

“Go ahead. I want you to,” Tristan said, determined to get in the last word.

But then he shut up, kissing her fiercely and working his fingers deeper . . . harder . . . faster. Jada cried out as her orgasm rushed through her, causing her body to shudder in waves of pleasure. Tristan held her as she came down from her high to rest against the wall with her eyes closed.

“You’re beautiful when you come, Jada. I knew you would be. I knew we would end up here.”

His words and the sound of his zipper coming down brought Jada crashing back down to earth. No, not down to earth. Back to memories that should have lost their power long ago but that still haunted her. It wasn’t Tristan standing before her anymore, it was Daniel, saying the exact same words.

“What do you mean you knew we’d end up here?” Jada said, her voice harsh, guarded.

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