Page 125 of Revenge Is a Dish Best Served… Wearing Heels?
"Honestly," he said, "I wouldn't know. I quit last week."
There were gasps and surprised looks all around, but the biggest gasp came from me. Tristan quit his job? What on earth was going on?
"Sorry," he immediately said to me. "The timing hasn't been right to tell you, and I didn't want to mislead Mr. and Mrs. Jarrett."
The kind man patted Tristan on the shoulder. "We'll let you two talk. I'll call you sometime next week though because I'd like to hear the rest of the story."
We said our goodbyes, and this time, Tristan walked like a man possessed toward one end of the ballroom where there was a humongous floral arrangement in front of a velvet rope. He whisked me behind the flowers which were hiding a long hallway.
"What is this?" I gasped. "What are you doing?"
"I have no idea," he admitted. "I just need you. Alone."
A swell of emotion swept through me at the desperation in his voice.
He needed me. Alone.
Tristan had no idea, but those words were such an aphrodisiac to me.
Shoving open a door, he fumbled for a light switch, and once he found it, I couldn't believe what was in front of my eyes—a beautiful old dressing room of sorts, complete with plush velvet chairs and an overstuffed couch, mirrors outlined with large vintage-style bulbs, and even an old garment rack shoved against a wall with a few forgotten scarves hanging from it.
While I stood in awe at the space, Tristan apparently had other ideas because the next thing I knew, he slammed the door shut and shoved me against the wall, caging me in with his arms.
"I know we need to talk about so much," he said. "I know. But I can't think rationally any longer. I want you so fucking much. The thought of you walking around with my baby, our baby, inside you, inside that glorious body you have, it's been driving me crazy."
He leaned his forehead against me, and I was officially a goner. His words. That move. The vulnerability, the want and desire, in his voice.
I dropped the letter. I dropped my questions. All I could think about was this man in front of me and what he was offering.
And the biggest thing of all? Tristan D. Hawthorne was not who I'd thought he was. He wasn't a bully. He was the opposite of a bully.
And now he'd quit his dad's company too.
But wait, why? Had it been for good reasons, because he wanted to do better? Or had he moved to someplace even more cutthroat?
"I have one question," I managed to get out. "Whydid you quit your job?"
"Because I fucking hated it. Because it's cruel and I want to be better than that. Because I want you to be proud of me."
My heart melted. And so did my soul. And that was all I needed to hear. I was now all in.
He'd been so patient with me, so caring and thoughtful, despite all that I'd done to him, despite not even knowing my real name for so long. He'd seen the real me though, for the first time in my life, and the feeling was indescribable.
"Iamproud of you," I whispered. "And I believe you. I believe in you."
Those words seemed to break something in him, and the next thing I knew, his mouth crashed into mine, his fingers in my hair pulling me in closer as his tongue swept into my mouth with such passion, I couldn't breathe.
"I need you," he growled. "Right now. I can't wait."
"Then don't."
It was like the dam had been broken because his kisses turned even more passionate, fiery, tongue plunging, mouth devouring,lips worshipping. His hard body pressed into me, his stiffening cock against my stomach, my whole self melting into him.
With another growl, he lifted me, like I weighed nothing, my legs going around his hips, his hands gripping me, my ass, my thighs, as he carried me over to the couch then gently let me go, my body sliding against his.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked, pulling back to look at me. "Like truly beautiful, the most beautiful woman I've ever known. Not just outside. But inside too."
I swallowed, the emotion inside me almost too much to bear. "You really think so?"
