Page 87 of Taken By the Fae

“It was easier to hate you than to admit I had feelings for someone who kidnapped me, someonefae, who I didn’t know existed until said kidnapping.” Glancing away, I blow out a breath, but it still feels as though something is keeping my lungs from working properly.

“Aurora,” he says gently.

“I’m still struggling with… this. I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to you.” Some of the tension in my chest releases at the admission. It feels fuckinggoodto tell him, to put words to the chaos going on inside me. “Every other aspect of my life is under my control, for the most part. Everything has a plan. That’s how I’ve chosen to live—it’s what keeps me sane. So, when you came along, and I fell for you, I panicked. You being in my life forced me to consider a different future for myself than the one I’ve had planned forever. You didn’t just nudge me out of my comfort zone, Tris, you launched me so far away from it, I’m not sure what it feels like anymore.”

“Aurora—”

“No, please, just listen for a minute.” This is something I need to get out. “I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but…” I flick my eyes up until they reach his. “I want to try.”

Tristan leans in and cups my cheeks, his thumbs skimming across my face. “You’re too good for me,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.

“That’s not true,” I say. “Please, tell me you’ll try.”

He kisses my forehead and flashes me a soft smirk. “Oh, I’m all in.”

My heart races at his words, knowing just how deeply I am, too. In the time I take to blink, Tristan moves forward, grabbing my hips and laying me across the couch. He gives me no warning before his lips crash against mine, moving gently. His tongue darts out, flicking along my bottom lip, teasing and soft, until my lips part to grant him entrance. Our tongues dance, while my head spins as my pulse ticks faster, and I slide my fingers into his hair, gripping the ends. I get lost in him, letting his touch consume me, take me away from the stress of everything, if just for a moment.

Boldness grips me, and I push against his chest until he moves back, keeping his lips on mine as I sit up. We move to the end of the couch, where I take control, straddling him and grinding against the hardness between his legs. The heat pulsing between mine makes my cheeks flush, and I break the kiss to catch my breath, my heart as loud as a drumbeat. I drop my head to his shoulder, my chest rising and falling fast.

“Tell me what you want,” he says gruffly.

A single word spills from my lips: “You.”

Tristan guides my head up so our eyes meet. “I’m going to need you to be a bit more specific, Rory.”

I lick the dryness from my lips and grab his hand, guiding it between my legs where I’m aching for him. He catches on fast, and the curve of his lips shoots heat straight to my core. Tristan grips my hips and flips me around so I’m sitting between his legs with my back against his chest. I yelp at the blurring movement, turning my head to shoot him a look, which he only smirks at as he snakes an arm around my waist, locking me against him. His other hand glides along my thigh, back and forth, making my skin tingle under my leggings. My breathing hitches as his fingers delve between my legs, and I press my lips together against a soft moan when his thumb brushes my clit. A heady mix of anticipation and desire floods through me as Tristan kisses the beating pulse at my neck. I tip my head back against him, spreading my legs wider, an invitation for him to slide his hand into my pants, which is exactly what he does. His fingers trace along the line of my panties before slipping inside, and I suck in a sharp breath when he skims my slit with a single digit.

“Like this?” he checks, his lips tracing the shell of my ear.

“Yes,” I breathe. My hips lift, but he holds them down, circling my clit with his thumb until my thighs are shaking. Just when I think I can’t take any more teasing, he eases one finger into me, stealing my breath. I squeeze him, breathing heavily, and turn my cheek so I can press my lips to his jaw. He pulses his finger inside me while continuing to work my clit, and his mouth finds mine, swallowing my moan as I fight his grip, desperate to grind against his hand.

Tristan’s chest rumbles with a deep growl that makes me clench around him, and I whimper against his lips when he adds a second finger, curling them deep inside me and hitting the spot that’s going to launch me over the edge. His lips leave mine and trail along my jaw.

“Are you going to come for me, Rory?”

Fucking hell. That does me in. He picks up speed, and I make an embarrassingly strangled sound at the back of my throat, hanging onto him as a wickedly powerful orgasm tears through me. Everything in me tightens, and I come apart on his fingers.

He kisses the side of my head as he pulls his fingers out, plucking the pocket square from his jacket and wiping his fingers clean before returning it to his pocket with a devilish smirk.

When he shifts me away and stands, I frown at him. “What, um… what about you?”

He cups my chin, tipping my face up to look at him. “Don’t think I got nothing out of that.” His thumb traces along my bottom lip, making it tingle. “And believe me when I say I’d much rather take you to my bed for the afternoon than go to a budget meeting.”

My stomach dips, and I pull my lip between my teeth, imagining all the things we could do with an afternoon, none of which involving clothing. “And I'd rather stay here with you than go to my accounting lecture.”

He grins, then bends and steals my lips in a soft, slow kiss that leaves me lightheaded when he pulls away. “I’ll see you later?”

“If you’re lucky,” I offer with a faint smirk as I gather my things, taking his outstretched hand and standing.

Tristan walks me to the elevator, and his goodbye kiss promises so much more than the tease on his office couch before the doors close and he’s gone.

ChapterTwenty-Four

To focus on school—read: distracting myself from worrying about the fae—I text Grant the following afternoon to meet up and work on our e-commerce presentation. It’s been nice having him in another class, though I no longer look at and get a fluttery stomach, and he hasn’t tried to push for anything more than friendship. It wouldn’t matter, anyway; for better or worse, I’ve completely fallen for a knight of the seelie fae court.

Grant texts me the address for his apartment a few blocks from campus, and I head over mid-afternoon.

“It’s open,” he hollers from inside after I knock, so I turn the knob and let myself in. The space is open concept and modern, with worn hardwood floors and light furniture. The kitchen, dining, and living rooms are all combined, so I see Grant the moment I walk in. He looks effortlessly put together today in dark jeans and a light gray V-neck shirt. His hair had grown longer since we met four months ago at the beginning of the school year, and the shaggy surfer look definitely suits him. I still recognize how attractive he is. It just does nothing for me now.

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