Page 65 of Twisted Fate
I mock salute her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Tristan leads me away from the table. Once we’re outside, I pull away, needing room to breathe for a minute.
“Rory.” His nickname for me sounds so smooth rolling off his tongue. “You need to relax. I can feel your anxiety. It’s pouring off of you in waves.”
Spinning around to face him, I cross my arms over my chest so he can’t reach for my hands. “This isn’t a good idea.” I glance around the street to make sure we’re alone.
He tilts his head, regarding me with a thoughtful expression. His eyes alone make me want to give in. “You’re in control here. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he says.
My jaw clenches as my eyes flicker across his face. “You want me?” I whisper.
Taking a step toward me, he dips his face closer. “For some time now,” he says as if he has no qualms about admitting it. “You have a fire in you. It’s something I admire. While you tend to put yourself in unnecessary danger, sticking your nose into fae business as of late, your perspective on certain things is refreshing, to say the least.”
My mind races. “I don’t think...we can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m terrified!” The words fall out before I can clamp my mouth shut. “I don’t feel like I’m in control when I’m around you.” It’s not something I ever wanted to admit. This moment feels different, as if it’s setting us on a new path.
He laughs. “You don’t think I feel the same? You challenge my every word. You go against everything I know.”
“You don’t know enough about me,” I say as if that might have the power to deter him while part of me hopes it won’t.
“You’re providing a weak argument.” His dark-eyed look sets my body ablaze. “I can hear your heart,” he murmurs.
“Good to know I’m still breathing,” I mutter. Sarcasm, my automatic defense against anxiety.
When he chuckles, a wicked shiver runs through me, and my mind goes places I wish I could say it hasn’t before.
“There’s that fire I told you about.”
I uncross my arms and let them fall to my sides. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”
“Why? Because you know I’m right about what’s going on between us?”
I shake my head.
“You’re afraid because you can’t control how you feel.”
My eyes narrow. “You’re talking like this isn’t affecting you.”
“I’m not the one fighting it,” he says.
“Don’t you wonder why I am? This isn’t—I can’t see any way for this to work out well. I don’t understand why I feel whatever this is for you because I know I shouldn’t. You would think that might deter me, that I might be able to walk away from this because of everything that’s happened.” My heart races while my chest rises and falls in quick successions.
“But you can’t,” he says.
“Shut up,” I snap, breathless, grabbing his face in my hands. “Just...shut up.” My lips collide with his in the same moment his hands drop to my hips and pull me closer. Eyes closed, I deepen the kiss, sliding my fingers into his hair, tugging at the ends. He growls, gripping my hips tighter as his mouth devours mine. My lips part in a moan, and his tongue slides in, brushing against mine and flicking across the roof of my mouth. My pulse pounds in my ears. My breasts tingle. Pressed flush against his body, a delicious warmth spreads through me, and the world fades away.
I spend the ride to the hotel in a daze. All I can think about is how everything feels so right after I’ve spent weeks trying to convince myself it’s wrong.
It’s silent between us from the time we get into the car until we reach the penthouse. I glance around the place. The simple, sleek, and modern elegance of it catches me off guard every time, even though I’ve been here before.
Tristan steps into my line of sight with dark eyes and a wicked curve on his lips. “What are you thinking about?”
I press my lips together, trying to form an answer. “A lot, to be honest.”
“Can I help with that?” he purrs, slipping his arms around me, pulling me toward him.
