Page 63 of Heart to Heart
“That was efficient,” I said, taking a sip, the bubbles tickling my nose. “Door Dash has nothing on him.”
Tristan took a sip from his flute. “It’s as if his pay were being deducted by the second.”
He lifted the flute to take another sip, stopping short when he caught sight of something else that grabbed his attention. I looked down, noticing my breasts hovering just above the water and slouched down further in the tub, drawing a concerned raised eyebrow from him.
“Why do you keep hiding yourself from me?”
“It’s not just from you. I haven’t been in a bathing suit in front of people in a long time. Since?—.”
“Since when?” Tristan set his flute down on the patio surrounding the sunken tub, focusing intently on me.
“It’s not important,” I said, my brain dredging up memories I’d tried to bury long ago.
“Avery.” I met his hazel eyes, the perfect combination of a grassy meadow fighting for dominance with a pool of honey. “Don’t shut me out. Please.”
I inhaled, closing my eyes as I recalled why I’d stopped enjoying my mom’s pastries as much and had forced myself to eat nothing but salads for six straight months. “My ex,” I began, exhaling while trying to push the fact that we were being filmed from my mind. “He, um. He—.” I paused as Tristan’s fingers found my hand under the water and laced with mine. I smiled up at him, knowing that whatever I told him wouldn’t be met with the same scrutiny I’d encountered in the past. “The last time I wore this bathing suit, I was a little heavier than I am now. My ex grabbed my stomach and pinched a roll of fat in front of a group of his friends. He made some sarcastic joke about how he loved me and the roll he was pinching between his fingers. His friends just laughed. It was humiliating.”
I closed my eyes, fighting back tears as Tristan’s grip on my hand tightened involuntarily. Moments later, his thumb rubbingcircles along my cheek forced my eyes back open as I looked into eyes that had hardened into darkened pools of amber.
“That guy’s a fucking asshole,” he said. From behind us, further across the patio, a producer cleared his throat. “Oops. Sorry, Henry,” Tristan called behind his back before shifting his attention back to me. “I’ve exceeded my swearing allotment for the episode.”
I laughed as Tristan’s thumb brushed across my cheekbone, droplets of water dripping from his skin down my face. For as long as I remained on this show, I would never get tired of him touching me.
“He didn’t deserve you. Any man who could shame their partner is an insecure coward, not a man. And if he couldn’t see you for the woman you are, he never deserved to have you to begin with. You, Avery, are perfect just as you are. The same will be true ten years from now, whether you’re the same weight you are now, fifty pounds lighter, or a hundred pounds heavier.”
Fighting back tears, my eyes skimmed across his face, landing on his lips. So full, so sculpted, just like the rest of him. It was hard to believehewas callingmeperfect. He took notice, leaning in closer like he had the night of the masquerade, but before he could kiss me, I pulled away, conflicted.
“Why are you so afraid to move on?” he whispered, resting his forehead against mine.
Because we aren’t really moving on. Only fake moving on.
“I want to,” I answered him. It amazed me how well he could read me, like he always knew what I was feeling and thinking. Calling me out like he’d just done was something that should have happened even before my breakup with Guy. When it was obvious the relationship was going nowhere, and I was just going through the motions with him because I didn’t know what else to do.
“Then do it, baby.”
I don’t know what happened in the split second between Tristan calling me ‘baby’ and my lips crashing into his, and I don’t care. Seeing as the moment my mouth met his velvety smooth lips, I forgot even my own name.
Taken by surprise at first, his body stiffened but soon recovered, sinking into mine as he parted my lips with his tongue. I lightly brushed his tongue with mine, tasting champagne mixed with mint and pure Tristan as they danced over each other.
He groaned, one hand finding its way into my hair. Fingers tangling in my curls, his other hand pulling me in closer to him. But it wasn’t close enough. I wanted to feel Tristan, to be bathed in him, our bodies melding together, never to be separated.
He gasped as I lightly sucked and nibbled at his bottom lip, my tongue tracing its outline as my hands ran up his arms, gripping his shoulders. I pushed my body up and into his, wrapping my legs around his waist and straddling him without breaking our kiss. Air escaped his mouth in a hiss as though I’d injured him while positioning myself onto his lap. But I soon found out that wasn’t quite the case when I was introduced to The Full Tate poking into my inner thigh through his swim trunks.
Tristan Tate had an erection, and I was the cause of it. That fact alone was a huge turn-on, and I found myself not so accidentally grinding against him as I repositioned myself on his lap.
“Avery,” he growled my name in my ear after running a trail of kisses along my jawline. “Don’t start something we can’t finish.”
“Who says we can’t finish?”
“Fuck,” he moaned, his hands gripping my hips as I bucked against his erection. “God, I wish we could have started this sooner.”
“Me too,” I panted like a horny teenager. “The night of the masquerade when you looked so sexy in that black suit and that mask.”
“Avery Martin,” he said, trying his best to sound scandalized while leaving scorching-hot kisses down my neck. “Did I unlock a mask kink?”
“Tristan, you were my entire sexual awakening,” I groaned.
He rested his nose against my forehead, his pulse racing underneath my hand, which had slid down his shoulder to his chest. “I don’t want to be past tense when it comes to you,” he said, lightly running his hand up the length of my torso before coming to rest on the side of my neck just under my ear.
