Page 55 of Twisted Gift

The heat between my thighs pulses. Parts of me aredefinitelyinto that. I’m aching a bit from getting fucked against the shower wall, but that’s not going to stop me from doing it again. Not when Tristan makes it feel so damn good.

He wraps his fingers around my wrists and pulls me up until we’re face to face. Well, face to chest, anyway, and kisses my forehead. He reaches over and shuts off the water, grabbing a towel from the pile just outside the shower and handing it to me. Before I can unfold it, he picks me up and carries me out of the shower, back into the bedroom, then deposits me onto his bed.

In a short couple of moments, he has me lying beneath him, writhing and moaning as he thrusts in and out of me. Neither of us lasts long, not after that little teaser in the shower, and after it’s over, we lie facing one another, Tristan stroking my arm.

My stomach grumbles, permeating the silence between us. “I think I need some human food, too.”

Tristan chuckles. “I think we can manage that.” He smooths my hair and kisses my head before getting off the bed. He steps into a pair of dark gray sweatpants and winks at me. “French toast sound okay?”

The immediate grin on my face is answer enough, but I also say, “Yes, please.”

He nods before turning and walking out of the room.

I watch his backside until he’s out of sight, then I fall back into the mountain of pillows and sigh, staring at the ceiling. I’m not sure whether we’ve made it back to the place we were at before everything happened with Jules, but when we’re together, it feels as if we’re getting there. I missed it—him—more than I could imagine missing a person.

I find my clothes and get dressed before joining Tristan in the kitchen. He has breakfast cooking, so I walk over to the single-serve machine and make us some coffee. Leaning against the counter while it brews, I watch him with a smile on my face. I will never get tired of seeing this side of him. With all of the crazy we’ve experienced, being able to fall asleep next to each other and cook breakfast like normal people makes the rest bearable.

I leave the coffee and walk around the island in the middle of the kitchen, stopping behind Tristan and wrapping my arms around his bare torso.

“Hey there,” he says, turning so he can see me out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” I say with my cheek pressed against his back.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “I wish we could stay here forever—wish we could pretend the fae war will resolve itself.”

He chuckles. “I know, sweetheart. Me too.” He shifts enough to wrap his arm around me and pull me against his side.

I stick my finger into the bowl of icing sugar he already has sitting on the counter, then lick it off. “Yum,” I say, grinning a little.

Tristan bends and steals a kiss. “Yum indeed,” he comments with a smirk.

We spend the rest of the morning eating breakfast in between kisses and teases. We’re forcing ourselves to keep our clothes on, knowing we’ll end up in bed all day if we’re not careful. I wouldn’t complain, but I’ve got work to do at the pub, and Tristan needs to get to the office.

When I manage to break away from him, I grab my bag and get ready to leave.

“You’ll come back tonight?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe as I walk into the hallway to get on the elevator.

I wet my lips. “I do have to spend some time at my own apartment.”

He frowns. “Really? We have so much fun here.” That wicked smirk on his lips makes my stomach flip-flop like crazy.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I rock back on the heels of my feet. “We’ll see how busy the pub is tonight. Maybe I’ll come by after close.”

He arches a brow. “Maybe?”

My lips twist. “Hmm.”

His eyes narrow as he steps toward me. “You’re teasing me, sweetheart.” He places a finger under my chin, tilting my face until our eyes are level. “I just got you back.” His voice is lower, softer. “Let me see you tonight.”

I swallow hard, all teasing from moments before gone. “Okay,” I whisper.

He brushes his lips across mine in a whisper of a kiss before he steps away.

My mouth opens, and I’m about to say the most important words I’ll ever speak, but my throat closes, and I’m unable to force them out. It’s different from when I try to speak a lie; my brain knows I can say it, but it’s myheartthat won’t allow the words to pass my lips. It doesn’t make sense. Iwantto say them. Now is the perfect time. Instead, I step on the elevator, wait for the door to slide shut, and glare at myself in the mirror-paneled wall until I reach the lobby.

Groaning on an exhale, I fight the urge to punch something. I’m glad no one else is witnessing my meltdown because it’s embarrassing as hell. Hot tears prick my eyes, and I shake my head as I step off the elevator.

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