Page 87 of Off Script

“What do you mean?”

“Like the bedroom tango,” she said mischievously.

“We just got here!” Tristan laughed.

“Are you complaining?”

“I’d never go against my queen’s wishes.” Tristan held his hand to his chest in a sign of loyalty.

Giving in to her desires, they made their way back to the hotel. The task took far too long, and once they arrived, the accommodations felt lackluster. Sure, the bed was comfy and the room was clean, but something was missing.

“Well, babe, I’m sorry there are no rose petals or champagne. Didn’t have time to plan this out,” Tristan said.

“Hey, at least, there’s not a pool ball digging into my butt.”

“Or that waterpark hazard that freaked you out but that you ended uploving,” Tristan teased.

“Shut your filthy mouth, Mr. Maxwell!” Jada said in mock anger, but he pulled her toward him.

“You love my filthy mouth and all the things it can do to you.” He nipped at her bottom lip and she opened up for him.

When they pulled away, the heat of the moment had come back for both of them.

“It’s still okay like this though, isn’t it?” Jada asked shyly. “Even without the perfect ambiance with chocolate or sexy rain, being together, just us, is nice . . . right?”

“Just us is perfect,” he reassured her. Staring into her sparkling eyes, his emotions running through him, the truth hit him. It finally hit him and he knew for sure now.

He did love Jada.

He could feel the words on the tip of his tongue. He should say them now before the moment passed. Hell, before he changed his mind or lied to himself.

“Tristan, are you okay?” Jada prompted when he continued to stand there like an idiot.

“Jada, I . . .” Tristan started, ready for his true feelings to pour out.

Say it, damn it.

But as Jada’s expectant, caring eyes stared up at him, the beautiful confession he wanted to make remained trapped on his tongue.

What the hell should he say now?

28

As Jada and Tristan stood in the hotel room, a sense of foreboding crept over Jada. Tristan wasn’t saying anything, and it was seriously freaking her out.

“What is it, Tristan?” She searched his face anxiously.

Was them being together actually not perfect like he claimed? Was he going to turn around and reaffirm everything he’d said at that dinner? He’d make it clear that all of this was temporary. Having that confirmation from him could be for the best. It would hurt like hell, but at least she could retreat before things got any deeper.

“I was going to say that these last few weeks with you have been special. Better than I could have imagined. Thank you for giving me a shot,” Tristan said at last.

Jada was about to respond but Tristan cut her off with a kiss. They’d had quite a few since they’d started the romantic side of their relationship, but none like this. This was some next level shit. Passion ran through every stroke of his tongue, in the way he caressed her face and pressed her against him like they would never be close enough. They weren’t even naked yet but it felt like he was making love to her with every inch of his body through this one kiss.

As they undressed each other, there was a sense of both urgency and longing, as if Tristan couldn’t get enough of her. As if he never would. Jada relished that feeling, praying for it to be true. Maybe Tristan didn’t have finesse with words, but the way he expressed himself through actions spoke louder.

He made love to her that night in a way he never had before. He’d always been tender and mind blowing, but tonight, he was even more thorough. Savoring every curve of her body, committing it to memory. Filling her more deeply in an attempt to remain there always.

It was spiritual.

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