Page 60 of The Sweetest Risk

“What Hot Shot? Do you like me on top of you?”

I anchor her hips in place as I lift my hips and ram into her. Her breath hitches.

“Yes, I do, Cupcake,” I murmur. “Are you going to be a good girl and come for me again?”

She comes immediately after I ask her that question. I flip her over so she is on her back again. I want her to take me deeper. I hover over her flushed body. Her chest is heaving and a satisfied smile is plastered on her face.

“Did you like me on my knees for you, licking your clit and pussy, making you come on my face?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, Brooke. I always want you to be fucking satisfied. And don’t you ever forget that you’re mine.”

She looks up at me, then tightens her arms around my neck and kisses my jawline. It is a soft kiss, one that makes my hearttwist in the best way possible. I slow my rhythm down and become in sync with her breathing. That’s how I always want to be with her–connected with everything she does. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me closer to her.

“I’m yours, Hot Shot.”

Those words coming out of her mouth do it for me. I collapse onto her and she runs her fingertips along my back. Although it is the sweetest, most intimate thing she could do to me after sex, she is tickling me in the process. I shiver and she laughs. I pull out of her and pull her in close. I plant a kiss on her forehead and trace my fingertips all along her back. I can tell she is dozing off, so I voice the words I am most scared to say to the girl of my dreams:

“I want everything and more with you, Cupcake.”

I listen to the steady rhythm of Brooke’s breathing. Just when I think she’s fallen asleep, a vibration disrupts the steadiness: “Me too, Tristan.”

The sun is beaming brightlythrough my windows. I squint to block the sunlight. My eyes are already blurry and irritated because I stupidly left in my contacts overnight, which means today I need to wear my glasses. The very glasses that Brooke was referring to last night at dinner.

Speaking of Brooke, I don’t know how I am going to move with this angel sprawled on top of me. Her head is resting right above my heart, her leg hooked over mine and her arm spanning the entirety of my chest. I kiss the top of her head and slide out from under her, careful not to disturb her sleep. She stirs and hugs the pillow. I cover her with the comforter and brush some hair back from her face. A part of me wants to wake her up andcontinue what we were doing last night, but she needs sleep and I need coffee. She probably does, too, with the lack of sleep and the amount of alcohol she drank last night.

I rummaged through my bag and find my black-framed glasses, a Storm shirt and sweats. Even though it is my own house and I could walk around however I want, I do have guests and I’m sure they don’t want to see me in my underwear. I quietly go downstairs and start a pot of coffee. On the counter is a container of homemade strawberry pop tarts that Brooke made yesterday morning. I stuff half of one in my mouth – it’s so damn good – and go to the fridge for some creamer. I hear a sleepy, “Morning.” I flinch and close the fridge door, and Jen stands there rubbing her eyes.

“Jesus, Jen, you scared the crap out of me.” I nervously chuckle. “What are you doing up so early?” I grab a mug from the cupboard, pour her some coffee and hand it to her. “I don’t know how you take it.”

“Black like my soul.”

We both snort. That couldn’t be further from the truth; Jen is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.

She comes over to the counter and snatches up the creamer. “Bradley was snoring so loud that he woke me up and then I couldn’t go back to sleep.” When she is done stirring her coffee, she takes a sip and looks up at me. Suddenly her eyes widen.

I shift nervously on my feet. “Whoa, why are you looking at me like that? You have crazy eyes right now.”

“I’ve never seen you wear glasses before. When did you start wearing them?” She is smirking like she knows something I don’t.

I shrug. “I’ve worn glasses all my life. I just usually wear contacts. I had a late night last night and forgot to take them out. So, glasses today.”

“A late night, huh? What were you doing? Talking with that girl you mentioned at dinner?”

We did way more than just talk. We actually were doing everything in our power to stay as quiet as possible. “Something like that.” I pour coffee into my own mug. I’ll have to get Brooke some later.

Jen points at me. “You know who you kind of look like? Clark Kent.”

I chuckle nervously. “What? No I don’t.”

Her eyes got wider and she covered her mouth. “Oh my God! You’re the professional development guy!”

Shit. “Shhhh.”

“This all makes sense. You know, at dinner, I felt like something was going on between you two but then I had to convince myself that that wouldneverhappen because you both hate each other’s guts.” Then I can see something else clicks in her brain. “Tristan…Bradley is going to kill you.”

I press my palms into the edge of the counter and hang my head between my shoulders. “I know that.”

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