Page 66 of Love Not Qualified

“Is this all?” he asked, glancing from the bag back to me.

I nodded. “Yeah, I thought we were only leaving for two days?”

He didn’t say anything else and went to the trunk, flinging the door open and throwing my baggage in there. I took a moment to search my pockets.

Wipes. Check.

Strawberry gum. Check.

Phone.My phone.

“Wait!” I walked over to him when he was getting ready to close it. “I forgot my phone in my bag.”

Mr. Graves leaned over his luggage—three bags of it—and put mine on the edge of the car, his fingers grazing the zipper.

Why the hell did he need three big pieces of luggage for two damn days? Was he carrying a few dead bodies with him?

God, I hoped not.

“Why do you have so many bags with you?” I asked as I turned my head around to him.

My limbs froze when my eyes landed on his leaned back, a small light cascading over his features. He was holding a pair of green lace thongs from my open bag, his thumb skimming over the material as his jaw locked, popping at his temple.

He was supposed to give me my phone, not find something I wasn’t going to put to use anyway.

I opened my mouth to say something, but it dried as soon as he continued to stroke the material right where my clit would be and my mind decided to imagine his rough finger was on my body and not on the thong. I gulped, a burning path falling from the back of my neck to the sensitive place between my thighs.

Mr. Graves looked at me over his shoulder and when I met the look in his eyes, I almost came right there. His green eyes became black and they darkened on me as his hand let go of my lingerie. With his other hand, he gave me my phone, not once breaking eye contact.

“Who are those for?” His grave tone killed the silence.

It made me feel smaller, weaker. He towered over me, rage flaring in his eyes. I took a step back, cursing myself for the hotness between my legs.

“No one,” I said simply.

Mr. Graves nodded, then moved closer to me, his finger sneaking its way under my chin. The look on his face made me shudder and I knew whatever he was about to tell would turn me on even more

“I hope that’s true because all I can see is you wearing nothing but those tiny panties and the only audience you have is me. And that’s fucking inappropriate, as I’m sure you’re going to say next.” I parted my lips, but he didn’t let me speak. “Now, get in the car, you must be tired.”

My mouth fell to the ground as I watched his back disappear into the driver’s seat. Only after the door closed after him, I sucked in a deep breath, regaining the air I lost in his presence.

Why didn’t I say anything?An offended woman would’ve gone to the extent of slapping him, but my traitorous body wasn’t offended at all. More like intrigued.

I pictured myself on a king-size bed with my legs open, only because I knew the sensitive part was covered by the green lingerie. He watched me from the door, his eyes starting a path from my clit to my eyes.

The fantasy would’ve still kept playing in my head if it wasn’t for the honk waking me up from my trance.

For fuck’s sake, why was he saying things like that? It was possible sober Tristan was way more dangerous than his drunk version, and it scared and excited me equally.

Was he toying with me? Was this some kind of sick game where his grand plan was to see me give up?

I sucked in a deep breath, taking small steps to my seat as an attempt to gather the courage to get inside the car. By the time I opened the door, my mind ran back to his words.

Two days. I have to keep it together for two days.

TWENTY-FOUR

TRISTAN

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