Page 21 of Made for Us

I walk back to my room alone, already missing her. I walk into the room and see there is no light on. I head straight to the back, opening the door and walking out, something I do every night. Except tonight, it’s different; when I lean onto the railing, I look over and see her standing there. Her head turns to look at me, and before I can even think twice, I ask her, “Want to have a drink with me?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ABIGAIL

I hear him walk outside into the darkness, and I think about turning around and hightailing it back inside, but like an idiot, all I can do is stand here and watch him. He walks to the railing, putting his hands on it. I can picture what he’s wearing since I’ve spent the majority of the night looking at him. He is wearing pink shorts with a baby-blue linen button-down shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The shirt made his eyes pop even more. I escaped the beach early so I didn’t get dragged into going out with the gang. I just wanted to go back to my room and relax. I hold my breath as I see him turning his head and looking at me. I don’t know if he’s shocked or surprised to see me. “Want to have a drink with me?”

I want to have more than a drink with you, my head says. “Sure.” I push off my own railing, my head screaming, this is a bad idea, as my vagina screams, go and get me some. I think about jumping onto his patio, but the linen skirt I’m wearing is tight on top with a long slit.

“I’ll open the door,” he says, turning and walking back inside his house. I walk into my own house and out the front door. When I walk over to his villa, he is waiting for me at the front door.

“Hi,” I whisper when I see it’s dark inside, afraid I’m going to wake Penelope. His musky smell fills the whole doorway

“Penelope is sleeping at Cooper’s,” he informs me, and I stop in front of him, my heart speeding up to the point I feel like it’s going to come out of my chest. “What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever you are having is good,” I reply, omitting the fact that I’ve never really drank anything. I’ve had some wine a time or two at the games, but I was just not drawn to it. Plus, it’s not like I had time to party in college. I left that all to Gabriella, who did enough for both of us to last a lifetime.

“Go sit outside,” he says, and just being in his space gives my whole body tingles. I nod at him as I walk out to the deck.

“You can do this.” I try to give myself a pep talk. “It’s going to be fine.” I sit on the couch, and before I think about it, I see that it’s the only seat up here. The couch seats two people. I’m about to get up when I see him walking out with two glasses in his hand.

It’s also at this moment I realize there isn’t that much light here. A soft glow from the front makes its way into the back. He stops next to me, handing me the crystal glass with a ball ice cube inside. It clinks against the side of the glass as I reach up and grab it. Our fingers graze each other, and he looks at me for a second longer than I think he should, or I should. He sits next to me, and his leg brushes mine. I don’t even wait before I take a gulp of the amber liquid. I try not to grimace when it burns all the way down to my stomach. “Smooth,” I say, hissing a bit, making him laugh. My knees knock together with nerves. My palms are so sweaty that I’m praying I don’t drop the glass onto the floor and make a fool of myself. I look down into my lap because I’m afraid he’s going to see how nervous I am.

“It’s whiskey,” he says, holding his glass up. “To the end of the vacation.”

“I already took a sip.” I laugh nervously, looking at him. “Does it show I don’t do this often?” I make a joke, and I hold up my own glass, clinking it with his.

He chuckles at me. “This is, hands down, one of my top vacations,” he admits softly as he brings the glass to his lips. I don’t bother answering him that I don’t think I’ll have another vacation quite like this one. Instead, I take another sip of the whiskey, and this time, it doesn’t hurt as much when it goes down. I say a sip, but it’s more like a gulp. I guess this is what they call liquid courage. I look into the glass, turning it in my hand nervously, watching the ball go round and round. “It’s going to be a rough day two days from now when I have to get up and make my own breakfast,” he states, making me laugh. “Today, I didn’t even know she ordered room service until I heard a knock.”

I throw my head back and laugh, bringing the glass back to my lips and drinking the rest of the whiskey. From the side, I watch him lift the glass to his lips, wanting to be a crystal glass all of a sudden. Truth be told, I want to be anything he touches. “Tell me, Abigail.” He says my name in almost a whisper. “What is it you are going to miss?”

Seeing you every day, I say in my head. “Spending time with everyone,” I finally say, bringing the glass to my lips again, swallowing the little liquid that the ice gave off.

“Everyone,” he emphasizes, almost as a joke.

“Christopher less than anyone.” I lean in closer to him as we sit with our back to the couch. I hold my glass in my hand as I look over at him, a soft breeze blows my hair into my face, and I let out a little chuckle.

His hand comes up to my face as he takes a strand of hair and tucks it behind my ear. “I’m going to miss this,” he says softly. I want to ask him what exactly he is going to miss, but I don’t say a word because if I do, I’m afraid he will realize his head is getting closer and closer to mine. I’m afraid to do anything to stop what I think is going to happen.

His hand still on my cheek, his head closes the distance between us, and all I can see is his eyes on mine. My mouth goes suddenly dry as my tongue comes out and licks my bottom lip. “Abigail,” he says breathlessly, right before his lips are on mine. My eyes stay open to make sure this is really happening and I’m not dreaming about it. I keep my eyes open until his tongue comes out and finds mine. My hand comes out to hold his cheek as his hand moves from the side of my face into my hair. He grips the base of my head, pulling me to him as his tongue goes around and around.

I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. My eyes flicker open again to make sure I’m not dreaming. I almost pinch myself to make sure I’m not asleep. He turns his head to the side, deepening the kiss, and just from this one kiss, I know I never want to kiss anyone else ever again. Just from this one kiss, I know that everything I thought was a kiss… wasn’t. Just from this one kiss right now, I know I’ve been ruined for all men who will come after him.

He lets my lips go as his forehead presses into mine. Our chests rise and fall at the same time as his eyes search mine. “Abigail.”

His hands fall out of my hair, and he moves away from me. My lips tingle from the kiss and also missing his. He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.” The three words come out of his mouth, and it sounds like he’s in pain. “I am so, so sorry.” He just looks at me.

I put the glass in my hand onto the couch next to me where he just got up from. His eyes watch my every move. I walk to him, taking the glass out of his hand. The whole time, I’m waiting for him to run away. The whole time, I’m telling myself if I have him for only one night, it might be just enough. The whole time, I’m telling myself there is no way I’m not taking a chance at it. He kissed me, but one kiss isn’t enough. “Tristan.” I say his name when I turn around and stand in front of him. The liquid courage of the whiskey is probably taking over, but I don’t care. “I’m not sorry,” I declare right before I lean in and lick his lips. “I’m not sorry, not one little bit,” I reaffirm, crushing my lips on his. My hands don’t go to his cheeks this time. Instead, they go into his hair. My body presses against him, and I swallow the moan that wants to escape him. His hands come up to my waist and then roam my back into my hair.

My chest is crushed to his, my tongue fighting with his. The first kiss was soft and tender, the way a first kiss should be. I haven’t kissed many guys—in fact, I’ve only kissed two—but I know this kiss is different. It’s full of need, the need to get even closer to him, which seems to be ridiculous because I’m literally plastered to him. His whole body feels like he’s covering me, yet I want to get even closer. I don’t ever want this kiss to end. I never want this moment to end. “Abigail.” He finally lets my lips go, but I don’t give him much time to talk, or maybe he doesn’t give me much time to talk because our lips meet again.

Our heads move from right to left, following his lead. I don’t know how long we spend outside kissing, but I feel his hands let go of my hair and then move down my back. I feel like I’m on fire when his fingertips touch the skin on my back. My stomach sinks in when he moves even lower to the base of my spine. My nipples feel like they are going to cut through my linen top. My body feels like it’s on fire. I feel like every single time his fingertips touch my skin, I’m going to explode. I try to pull him closer to me by wrapping my arms around his neck. He lets go of my lips for a second so he can call out my name. It’s almost as if he’s pleading with me. “Abigail.” Again, he doesn’t give me a chance to answer him. Instead, he picks me up around my waist as he turns to walk inside his villa. I wish I could wrap my legs around his waist, but this linen skirt is giving nothing away. He stops walking, and I almost groan in disappointment. This is it, I think to myself. This is when he’ll tell me it’s all a mistake and we shouldn’t be doing this. I look into his eyes, and I wish there were lights on so I could see what he’s feeling. I wish there were lights on so he could see what I’m feeling. So I can tell him with my eyes that I’m his. His mouth comes to mine again as he walks through the living room and straight to his room.

The curtains are open, and the only light coming into the room is that of the moon. He finally puts me down in front of his bed. His mouth lets go of mine; his hands go to my hips. I can feel the heat from his hand through my pants. “Are you sure?”

I smile when it finally sinks in that he’s not going to tell me it’s a mistake. “Tristan,” I say his name and I can’t help the way my whole face lights up, “I’m more than sure.” I lean in and take another kiss from him before letting his lips go. I cross my hands in front of me, grabbing my crop top, and in one full movement I pull it over my head. I toss the small top to the side as I stand there in front of him topless. My nipples pebbled and itching to be touched.

“Oh my God.” His hands come up to cup my tits. “Fucking perfect,” he utters right before his head leans down, and he sucks one into his mouth. My hand comes up to cup the back of his head as I watch him work from one nipple to the next. My head falls back as he bites down on one of my nipples while he rolls the other one with his fingers. My full C cup tits feel so full while he plays with them.

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