“Yes.”
Slowly she steps inside, and I can see she wants to ask something.
“Go ahead and ask,” I encourage her.
She peeks into the ensuite bathroom, then turns her gaze to me. “Have you brought other women here?”
“No.” That’s what hotels were for.
Hana takes a deep breath, then she asks, “When were you last with… someone.”
“The week before the Christmas event,” I answer honestly.
I’m pretty sure my hand doesn’t count. The number of times I’ve jerked off to the image of Hana must be well in the hundreds.
Her eyes sharpen on me. “Not since?”
I shake my head. “Not since I saw you.”
“Why?”
Slowly, I move closer to her. Lifting my hand, I wrap my fingers around the side of her neck. She tilts her head back, her lips parting slightly.
“You’re the only one I want.” I lower my head to hers and press a tender kiss to her mouth. Pulling back an inch, I give her an out. “Do you want to watch some TV?”
“No.” Taking hold of my left wrist, she checks the time on my watch. “I usually go to bed at ten.”
“Bed it is then,” I murmur. I walk to my closet and take out a clean shirt for Hana and sweatpants for myself. Joining her in the room, I ask, “Do you need to shower?”
Hana shakes her head. “I already did.”
“You can change in here while I shower.”
I leave her standing in the middle of my room, and once I shut the bathroom door behind me, I hurry through my routine faster than I ever have before.
Chapter 9
HANA
My stomach churns with nerves as I quickly step out of my jeans. I pull the t-shirt off and rush to put on the shirt Tristan gave me. I notice my fingers are trembling as I do the buttons.
Glancing down, I’m relieved to see the shirt covers me to mid-thigh.
I’m only anxious because I’ve never spent the night alone with a man.
My thoughts return to when Tristan touched my breast, and it makes my breathing speed up. It felt so good.
His firm fingers squeezing my softness.
I don’t think I would’ve stopped him if he went further.
Am I ready?
I stare at the closed door that separates Tristan from me.
He’s been so patient, waiting eight months for me.
Is he the one you want your first time to be with?
Faced with the question, I can’t think of it being anyone else.
The past two weeks, Tristan has swept my feet from under me. I’ve passed having a crush and fallen head over heels for him.
My heart begins to beat faster when I hear the water stop.
I turn to the bed and pulling the covers back, my gaze sweeps over the white silk sheets.
Climbing onto the mattress, I move onto my knees. I lower my gaze and try to slow my breaths as I wait for the door to open.
I hear the knob turn, and for a moment, I close my eyes.
I can feel Tristan’s gaze burn on me, and taking a deep breath, I lift my head to look at him.
There’s an intense expression darkening his features.
Predatory. Hungry. Wild.
My eyes take in the hard expanse of his chest. It looks like his abs have been carved into his skin. The sight of Tristan’s bare chest is a stark reminder that he’s all man. My gaze drops to where the sweatpants are hanging dangerously low on his hips.
Heat instantly pools in my core, and my abdomen tightens.
“Christ,” he hisses. “There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight.” His mouth curves up as if the idea excites him. He stalks to the side of the bed I’m on. When I begin to move, he growls, “Stay still.”
I instantly freeze.
Tristan climbs onto the mattress, and then he kneels before me. When he just looks at me, I take a shaky breath before asking, “What now?”
Slowly he shakes his head once. “Nothing. I just want to revel in this moment,” a hot smirk tugs at his lips, “of having you on my bed.”
As he keeps staring at me, it makes me so much more aware of him as a man. Lifting my hand, I press my fingertips to the middle of his chest. I notice how he takes a deep breath, and when I flatten my palm over his skin, he lets it out slowly.
I relish in the feel of the warm muscle beneath my touch as I move down to the hard dips and swells of his abs.
When I drop my hand back to my lap, Tristan lifts his hands to the top button of the shirt I’m wearing. As the buttons come undone, I take a shaky breath, but it does nothing to stop my heart from turning into a fluttering mess in my chest.
I’m still wearing my underwear, and it’s the same as a bathing suit, right?
Tristan pulls the side of the shirt away from me, and then he murmurs, “Lace. It suits you.”
Curling a finger, he brushes a knuckle over my breastbone. His touch is so intense it makes me hold my breath.
“Look at me,” he grinds the demand out.
My eyes dart up to his.
“Breathe.”
I exhale on his command. It should terrify me that my body listens before my mind can even begin to fathom a response.
The warning is clear as daylight – Tristan has the power to ruin me.
I don’t know what he sees in my eyes, but it makes him strike so fast, it yanks a shriek out of me as he shoves me back on the bed. His mouth comes down hard on mine in a bruising kiss. His hands grab hold of my thighs, and he forces my legs open so his lower half can fit between them.
Tristan’s tongue massages mine with hard strokes as his whole body rubs against me. It’s like a tsunami is crashing over me. When I feel his hardness push against my sensitive flesh, I gasp and rip my mouth away from his. “Wait!”
Tristan instantly stills on top of me. I hear his harsh breaths, which match my own.
He moves off of me and drops to his back.
I place a trembling hand over my stomach, willing my heartbeat to slow down.
Feeling emotional, I take deep breaths while I stare at the ceiling. I’m torn between an overwhelming fear of being intimate for the first time and my need for Tristan. It’s bewildering.
I feel Tristan move, and then he takes hold of my chin, turning my face to him. His features instantly darken with anger. It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize when he asks, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m…” my words trail away.
Tristan surprises me when he pulls me to his chest. His arms wrap around me, and then he presses a kiss to my hair. “You’re scared,” he completes my sentence. I nod against him, snuggling as close to him as I can get.
TRISTAN
When Hana burrows closer to me, I wish I could rip my chest open for her.
I’m fucking angry at myself for losing control. The second I saw the look of surrender on her face, I reacted.
Like a fucking animal.
I brush my hand up and down her back and whisper, “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “I want to be with you. I’m just… scared,” she admits.
You need to slow the fuck down, Tristan.
“Okay,” I murmur as I push her a little back. Nudging her face up to mine, I continue, “Slower. Gentler.”