Lingus (33 page)

I was squirming in my seat and couldn't help it. At. All. I was also glad that Zo didn't have leather seats. I was moving around so much I'd probably be making farting noises that she would never let me live down. It was kind of a silly worry considering she'd let two rip since I'd gotten into the car. Zoey kept looking at me out of the corner of her eye trying to be slick. Unfortunately for her, this was Zoey, and I knew everything about her. She was the size of a roach and made noises that rivaled those of an elephant. She was the antonym to the word inconspicuous. All day I'd been itching in my skin to leave, subconsciously going as far as to wake up a full hour earlier than normal out of excitement for the beginning of the trip. My bag was zipped and sitting by the front door for more than forty-eight hours.

Being that she was the best half-woman half-child in the world, she was keeping Matlock for me through the weekend and driving me to the airport. Tristan had offered to come pick me up after taking Yoda to his parent's house, but after he told me where his parents lived, it just seemed like a big inconvenient circle of driving to do so.

The smile on her delicate features was deceiving, on anyone else that slanted pull of lips and cheek would seem like a sweet smile but on this girl, I knew whatever thoughts were rolling through that head were anything but sweet.

Cue the Zoey word vomit.

"Did you bring condoms with you?" her falsetto voice floated through the air.

Jesus Christ. "No, I didn't. Thank you very much."

She nodded, facing forward while changing lanes. "That's fine. We have to get tested all the time and I think Tristan, I mean Robby, always wears a condom—"

I couldn't help the way my neck tensed at the mention of Robby and his dick's doings. Who wants to imagine that the person they have feelings for, the person who likes to snuggle on the couch, and gives soft kisses, had also created a career out of having sex with women who had monster tits and bleached assholes? Not me. I knew that it was only because of my unconditional love for Zoey and my decent amount of self-esteem that I was even able to sit in her car on my way to a weekend of fun and porn conventions.

Zoey sighed so deeply it seemed like she had held in each breath that she'd taken the entire morning. She turned to look at me for a split second, a soft smile and a wink on her face. "I think it's really cute you two haven't jumped the gun. I mean, I want you to get some sooner than later but I'm glad you're taking your time, KAB."

"Thanks, Zo," I told her, reaching across the console to pinch the skin on her forearm. "I'm not doing it intentionally, he hasn't pushed and I haven't either."

The wistful look on her face before she nodded in understanding tugged at me, as she pulled her car over to the curb at the airport drop-off section. I was out of the car and yanking out my small carry-on suitcase from her trunk before she threw her arms around me as she told me to have a good time.

I turned around to find Tristan standing at the massive sliding doors with his duffel bag at his feet, grinning like the idiot he was. He threw up a hand to wave me over and in no time, we had checked into our flight, dropped off his duffel bag for check-in because of that damned hair dye, and fought over who got to roll my suitcase around since I refused to let him pay money to check it in. "You're such a pain in the ass," I muttered to him once he snatched the handle of my suitcase away from me, starting to drag it down the wide corridor toward our gate.

"Your short legs are kind of a pain in the ass," he snapped back with a snort.

"Three-fourths of the population has shorter legs than you do, ass. Quit walking so fast!" I huffed, taking quick steps to catch up to him.

He turned to look at me over his wide shoulder and grinned, switching his hold on the handle from his right arm to his left. He held his now empty hand out just a few inches away from his body, but with his fingers extended wide and close to me. I stared at his digits for a few seconds while trying to decide whether or not he was holding it out for me, or not, but those green orbs flickered up to my own. All I could see was some strange emotion that rivaled fear or maybe indecision staring back at me.

My hand slipped up from its spot on my side over to clasp onto the tips of his fingers. He grinned at me, entwining our fingers together. We walked together silently until we reached the terminal, plopping down on two seats to wait for our flight. "What do you want to do when we get there?" he asked, leaning over the armrest between us to speak directly into my ear.

He was so hot it was ethereal. He was perfect with his sharp jaw, straight nose, full lips, and bulging bicep muscles tightening the material of his flannel shirt. I deserved to win an award for managing to focus in his presence. "Let's drive down Hollywood?" I suggested trying to talk coherently, while his thumb brushed small circles over the webbing of skin between my own thumb and index finger.

"Whatever you want, goldie," he said with a smirk.

I should have quit being a pussy and told him that he was what I wanted. For that moment. Forever. Whatever. I didn't though, because I was scared. I knew we needed to talk and determine exactly what we were, because I hated the feeling of indecisiveness and freedom between us since there weren't any words that had cemented us together. For all I knew, he might have been into the idea of an open relationship, which would kill me inside, but then I remembered that he admitted having punched the wall out of jealousy, so he couldn't really be into that idea either.

What I wanted to hear was his words. I'd make sure to get that during the weekend if nothing else.

Chapter 48

"It looks cooler on television," I whined to Tristan, talking about Hollywood Boulevard.

He smiled at me and shrugged, as he pulled our rental car into one of the spots at the front of the hotel we were staying at. We had just spent the last two hours driving through Hollywood's shitty traffic while I looked out the window at the various buildings and attractions I'd only seen on the tube in the past, and then stopped to eat at a random diner close to the hotel. He'd suggested that we pull over to sightsee, but I convinced him it was okay to head straight to the hotel since it was already close to midnight and I was pooped. We got out of the car, and I helped him pull my suitcase out of the trunk.

The plane ride had been filled with a gay flight attendant flirting with Tristan, who took it with more grace than any other man ever could, and then the lady next to him accidentally spilled her cup of water into his lap. When the old hag leaned over to try and wipe at his crotch with her napkin, I smacked her hand away and made him do it himself. Shit. If I hadn't touched it yet, then I sure as hell wasn't about to let some stranger touch the promised land.

Tristan yanked the handle of my suitcase out of my hand and smiled sheepishly while walking quickly through the moving doors of the hotel. "Walk faster, I need to pee," he called out from his place two steps ahead.

He walked toward the front desk, dropped his duffel onto the floor, and settled my rolling suitcase against his thigh while pulling out his wallet to talk to the employee. I stood just a few feet behind him, looking around while he checked us in, taking in the seats and couches in the lobby. Tristan hadn't told me hardly anything about where we were staying, or what we exactly we were doing, and I didn't bother asking because he could have said we were staying at some hole in the wall motel with Big Lou working the front desk, vibrating beds, and tube televisions on the dresser for all I cared and I would have been fine.

"Ready to go up?" his husky voice whispered into my ear, so close to the skin I could feel the moisture from his hot mouth on me even after he pulled away.

I only managed to nod in agreement before I was walking right next to him on our way to the elevators. He had two keycards in his hand with the duffel pulled over a shoulder like a purse and his other hand was wrapped around my suitcase handle. "Do we have two different rooms?" I asked him, before I even realized that the words were on my lips. I had thought we were sharing a room.

Green eyes bore into mine while we waited for the doors to open up. "No, we're sharing one," he said, and a thick shiver of pleasure ran through my body. My whole being noticed that he didn't ask me if it was okay that we were sharing one, or even made excuses as to why we weren't in two different rooms. He was just telling me and I fucking loved it.

I was sure my face turned a shade of pink only found in nature on roses, but I could care less; my smile probably rivaled that of a person in a mental institution. "Okay."

The smile on his face that he gave me in return wasn't remotely friendly, I could tell by the look in his eyes and it made my armpits start to sweat. The elevator doors opened up that instant, breaking me out of the trance I was in as a result of that indecipherable smile. Moments later, he swiped the keycard and pushed the door open to reveal a spacious room with a king-sized bed set against the opposite wall with a big screen television facing it. The hotel was much nicer than any of the budget hotels I'd been used to staying at in the past, so I was happy.

"I'm going to jump in the shower," he said, dropping his bag onto the floor by the television and heading to the door across from the bed, which I could only assume to be the bathroom.

The door shut but didn't lock, and I opened up my suitcase to pull out my pajamas so I could shower once he was done. My skin had this super gross feeling from the airplane. I'd always believed that the recycled air in planes left residue on my skin, but I tended to imagine things sometimes, so I tried not to think too much of it. I realized seconds later that there was a problem— my pajamas were missing. The rest of my clothes were neatly packed away courtesy of Nicole, but the shorts, tank top, and sports bra I had set aside were gone. I don't know why I looked through my suitcase again, like the items would magically appear if I pulled everything out the second time but nothing was in there.

My phone was out and pressed against my ear faster than I could physically say, "Nicole," in my worst impression of a growl.

Two rings later, the sultry voice I recognized belonging to my favorite blonde was on the other line. "Hey asshole, what's up?"

"Did you forget to pack something in my bag?" I whispered into the phone.

The bitch laughed in response. "Oh, I didn't forget. Trust me, babe."

I groaned into the phone, looking through my suitcase once more. "Damn it, Nikki. Fine, I'll call you later."

A throaty chuckle answered me before she said, "Love you, Kat. Have fun."

I powered off my phone before I heard the dial tone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. There weren't any tank tops or sports bras in my bag. This was a disaster. I couldn't sleep with a normal bra on or anything with tight sleeves. Call me claustrophobic or whatever you will, but it was one of the few things I was picky about. Everything in my suitcase was too dressy to sleep in, so I was going to have to resort to asking Tristan to borrow one of his shirts and letting the girls hang out overnight.

"Were you on the phone?" Tristan's voice rasped from the doorway to bathroom.

I looked up and immediately wished that I hadn't.

I sucked in a breath so deep I was surprised there was any oxygen left in the room.

He stood leaning against the doorframe with a towel wrapped around his slim hips and nothing else… unless you counted the hundreds of water droplets that were coating the surface of his perfect, borderline pale body. How the hell was he so ripped? Why didn't he have the courtesy to dry off? Damn. I couldn't remember ever hearing him mention going to exercise at all, and there was no way that body was
that good
out of the result of just good genes. If it was, the world and higher beings were totally unfair. My eyes focused in on the deep V-shape of muscle that started high on his hips before disappearing underneath the wrap of white around him.

"Do you work out?" I spit out stupidly.

He laughed deep from within his chest, causing his abs to contract in a way that made them look impossibly better. "Everyday before work," he huffed out, grinning.

I nodded, because I didn't trust myself to respond with appropriate words and stood up quickly remembering my shower and pajama issue. "Hey, can I borrow a shirt or something to sleep in? I guess I, uh, left my pajamas at home."

He quirked an eyebrow but nodded. "Sure," he turned and dropped to his haunches to look through his bag.

A pair of black boxer briefs flew onto the bed and then a soft, old white t-shirt appeared being flung in my direction. I wanted to say something about the fact that he'd chosen a white shirt out of all the colored ones he'd brought with him, but I didn't and just smirked. His cheeks and ears blossomed into a light pink color at my expression like he knew I caught onto his bullshit, but he turned back toward his bag immediately while I headed into the bathroom.

The water was hot and relaxing while I washed and shaved away the nasty feeling on me from the plane ride. I slipped on Tristan's shirt to see that it was loose and long enough to barely cover my ass cheeks. Sure you could have seen my nipples through the material if you stared, but I'd already gotten undressed in front of him before so it wasn't a big deal. Right? After I pulled on my hot pink boyshorts, brushed out my hair and then teeth, I opened the door and walked into the room to find him sprawled underneath the covers of the bed watching the television. The room was lit only by the lamp next to him. His chest was still bare above where the comforter lay pulled up to pecs.