Rock Bottom (Tristan & Danika #2) (40 page)

He gave me one quick look, and then looked at Akira, but that look told me plenty of things that I’d rather not have known.
 
For starters, my statement came out sassier than I’d intended, and Tristan still loved my sassy.
 
In fact, he ate it up.
 
His gaze had been hot, and…something else that I didn’t want to name.
 

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said idly, taking a sip of water.
 
“That giant bastard is taken.”
 

My eyes narrowed on him.
 
“I know that.
 
He’s married to a supermodel.
 
I was just saying…it must be weird for you, usually the biggest guy in the room, having to look
up
at somebody.
 
And his biceps are a bit wider than yours.”
 

His breath whooshed out in a surprised laugh.
 
“You and your big arm fetish.
 
Mine are still bigger than your waist.
 
They haven’t gotten any smaller.”
 

I didn’t let myself look at them, but it was a struggle.
 
And I’d looked enough already to know that he was right.
 

Absently, I rubbed at my bad knee under the table.
 

I felt him staring at me.
 

“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly, as though he couldn’t help himself.
 

I made my face into a very careful mask.
 
“It’s fine, just a bit stiff.
 
Nothing to concern yourself with.”
 

Nothing on earth could have shocked me more than when his hand touched my leg, sliding under mine to rub at my knee, somehow knowing just where to touch to ease the ache.
 
He’d always had a special talent for
that
.
     

“What are you doing?” I asked through my teeth.
 

He didn’t even flinch away from the look of murder I sent him, the bold bastard.
 
“I’m just trying to help,” he said, deadly earnest.
 

“I don’t need your help.”
 
My tone was venomous.
 

He didn’t stop rubbing, still didn’t flinch away.
 
Over the last six years, it had been way too easy to get him to back off, and I found that I had no clue what to do when my venom didn’t push him away.
 

“I know that.
 
Believe me, I know it.
 
But what if I need to give it?”
 

“We’re at the wedding of two people I adore, so I will be civil for about ten more seconds, but you had better believe that
—
“
 

“What about friendship?
 
Can we just try that?
 
No funny business, I swear.”
 

I felt so stiff, and I knew hostility was radiating off me in waves.
 

Frankie caught my eye, her arm around her girl.
 
This was a wedding, a joyous occasion, and her concerned look swayed me.
 
She was worried I’d cause a scene, and it hurt me that she was right to be worried.
 

I’m more mature than this,
I told myself.
 
And hell, why
couldn’t
we be friends?
 
I didn’t think he was attracted to me anymore.
 
I knew that what he wanted really
was
just friendship, and forgiveness, so why couldn’t I just give that to him?
 
Why did I feel the need to shut him out completely?
 

I knew the answer.
 
I was like a wounded animal, lashing out at his indifference, which had, over the years, solidified into the cause of my still raw pain.
 

“No funny business?” I asked, then spoke again before he could answer.
 
“I actually believe that now.
 
I didn’t figure you were into cripples.”

His hand dropped limply from my knee.
 

I got a look at his face, right before his gaze dropped down to the table, and instantly regretted saying something so ugly.
 

Whatever his feelings for me had turned into, I still had the power to wound him deeply.
 

“I’m sorry,” I told him quickly.
 

I opened my mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a furious looking Frankie.
 

She sat on Tristan’s other side, giving me a hostile look that I’d never have figured she’d direct at me.
 

“You okay?” she asked Tristan, her hand going to his arm.
 

 
He nodded shortly, stood up, and strode away.
 

“When are you going to stop hurting him?
 
When is it going to be
enough
for you?
 
If you needed him punished, congratulations, he’s been through hell.
 
What more do you
want
?”
 

Part of me was livid about every word that came out of her mouth, but another part, the part that wouldn’t shut up today, knew she had a point.
 
I had been punishing him, for six years I’d been punishing him, and it had gotten out of hand.
   

She stood, and I knew that it was to go after him, to make sure he was okay.
 

I stopped her with a grip on her hand.
 
“I’ve got this,” I told her, standing.
 
“You’ve got some best man duties to attend to.”
 

“Please, Danika.
 
You don’t have to take him back, but please, just be kind to him.
 
He’s been through enough.
 
You both have.
 
You’re hurting yourself with this bullshit, too, you know.”
 

I knew it.
 
I let my eyes show her that as I nodded.
 

I found him walking aimlessly through the woods, somewhere between the wedding tents and the fortress of a building that James called a ‘house.’
 

“Tristan,” I called out loudly.
 

He froze.
 
He didn’t turn around, just stopped.
 

I caught up to him quickly, grabbing his arm.
 

“I’m sorry I said that.
 
It was an ugly thing to say, and I didn’t even mean it.
 
You know how I am.
 
I can never seem to keep things to myself, and sometimes they come out worse than I mean them.”
 

“You’ve been pretty good at keeping things to yourself for a very long time.”
 

My eyebrows shot straight up.
 
He had a point.
 
I had gotten better at holding my tongue, but I couldn’t quite decipher what his tone meant.
 

“That’s true.
 
I’ve grown up.
 
But what I said back there wasn’t grown up, and I’m sorry for that.
 
I don’t have a grudge against you.
 
I really
have
gotten over our…history together, and I think you’re right.
 
There’s no reason that we can’t be friends again.”

“Thank you.”
 
His voice was low and hoarse, his head tilted forward.
 
Even in the semi-darkness, I could see that his eyes stayed on the ground.
 

There was something so defeated in his stance, something so hopeless in his voice, that I couldn’t seem to help myself; I hugged him.
 
For comfort, for support.
 
Whether it was for him or me or both of us, I didn’t dare contemplate.

I had to stand up on my tiptoes to get my arms around his neck, and that was with him slouched down.
   

He was stiff as a corpse for about ten seconds before he reacted, his arms squeezing me so hard that I let loose a grunt as all of the air was pushed out of me.
 

He eased up, and I took a few breaths before relaxing into him.
 

My body seemed to take over, because touching him brought back so many sensory memories.
 
We were a train wreck, he and I, but something about touching him had always just felt right to me.

I pressed into him, my face still buried in his neck.
 

He pulled back slightly, and I looked up at him.
 
I couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but I knew he was looking down at me.
 

“Tristan,” I uttered softly.
 

He lowered his head until his mouth was a breath away from mine, and even then, I didn’t think he could possibly be going
there
.
 

“Tristan.”
 

He moved his hands to cup my face, and at the corner of my vision, I could see that they were trembling.
 

He tilted my head one way, slanted his head the other, and brought our lips together.

He kissed me.
 

A desperate, hungry, wild, make me forget the past
and
the future kind of kiss.
 

Most of my life was spent displaying a cool reserve to the world, my self-control assured and seemingly effortless.
 
One brief kiss and the years dissolved, the past and the present merging into one singular thought that existed
right now
.
 
And right now, all that mattered was this connection, this sensation that began at our joined lips and traveled down my body, igniting every last molecule of my being into a wildfire.
 

I snapped.
 

My hands clawed at his shoulders, my mouth ravenous on his.
 
I’d always considered myself a good kisser, and I knew for a fact that Tristan was one, but there was no finesse in this.
 
We simply took, and took, and gave in the form of clashing teeth and warring tongues.
 

His hands moved to my hips, lifting me high against his body.
 
I’d longed for this body, this exact shape, every bend, bulge, and curve of him all that my own body needed.
 
My legs wrapped around his waist, animalistic whimpers escaping my throat as his erection pushed hard against my belly, and, after I’d shifted just right, straight into my clit.
 

I knew he was walking, carrying me, but I didn’t care, just sucking at his tongue, biting his lip until I tasted blood.
 
The sky could have fallen around our heads and I wouldn’t have cared.
 
I wasn’t letting go of
this
; this mindless moment where everything felt like it had shifted back into place, and all of the wrongs were right again.

He tried to set me down, but I wouldn’t let him, my legs a vise around his hips, my arms locked around his shoulders.
 
He pulled his head back, and I bit his neck, rubbing my torso into his.
 

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely.
 

That one small request had me pulling back just far enough to look at him.
 
A bright lantern light shone down at us, and I took in our surroundings.
 

We were on the back porch of the ranch house, and Tristan was pushing my hips away from his, sitting me on the thick rail that ran the length of the patio.
 

Confused and disoriented, I let him.
 

I swallowed hard, opening my mouth to say God only knows what when his hands shot to the hem of my lavender bridesmaid dress, yanking it up over my hips.
 

That effectively squelched my urge to try to speak.
 

We were rushing headlong into this lunacy, and I could worry about the mess we made later.
 

I wanted this, needed this like I hadn’t needed anything since I’d cauterized all of the joy from my life.
 

He pulled the dress straight up, flipping it all the way over my head until my arms were effectively restrained.
 
I didn’t know, or care, if that had been his intent.
 

He unsnapped the front clasp of my bra, moaning and bending down to suck one quivering globe into his mouth.
 

His hands fumbled with his belt and fly.
 
He groaned, and I gasped as his freed erection sprang into my stomach.
 

Big fingers shoved my panties to the side, and the tip of him was pushing into me as he raised his head and took my mouth again.
 
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask if I was sure I wanted to do this.

I was relieved, because a crash this brutal could handle no brakes at all.
 

He reared back, then drove forward, burying his cock in me with one hard stroke.
 

The world stopped as we took what we needed, what I’d been starved for from the very last time I’d been in his arms.
 

It was a frenzied mating, a swift coming together that took me to the fever pitch of ecstasy with a few rough, heavy strokes, over too soon
—
the perfect testament to our torrid love affair.

We didn’t move for a very long time after we finished, and more importantly, we didn’t speak.
 
Words would break the spell.
 
Words were reality.
 
This was a stolen moment, and I wanted to keep it as safe from reality as possible.
 

My forehead had fallen to his shoulder at some point, and his cheek was pressed to the top of my head.
 
He didn’t pull out, the only movement between us the ragged pull of our panting breaths, and his member still twitching deep inside of me.