telling me how much he wanted me.
I hurried out of my bra and followed him to the sofa, straddling him as he pulled me down on top of him. With one long thrust, he slid into me until there was nothing separating us. He held me still so he remained deep inside me, pushing on my hips as he kissed me hard. I wanted to move, to ride him until I came so hard my thighs shook, but I couldn’t budge. I didn’t think I could want him more, but somehow not being able to feel him moving in and out of my body made me almost desperate for him.
“Tristan, don’t make me beg,” I whispered into his ear. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“So impatient. If I move my hands, are you going to move?”
I looked into those eyes and saw he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I just couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to admit it then. “I’m going to ride your cock like it’s never been ridden and fuck you like I know you want.”
With anyone else, I would’ve been embarrassed to say those words, but with Tristan, I felt nothing but the desire to make him happy. Maybe that was why he always seemed to be so interested in my happiness—because he wanted to be happy too. I wanted to be the woman who gave him that.
Silently, he stared up at me and moved his hands from my hips, giving me the freedom to do just as I promised. With every tilt of my hips and every thrust of his cock, we raced toward that happiness we gave one another. His hands guided my movement, and mine clutched his broad shoulders until my body exploded into a million pieces, each one sublimely happy and fulfilled. Moments later, he plunged into me one last time and came almost violently, as if some demon inside of him released its control over him to me.
Smoothing the tiny beads of sweat from his forehead, I smiled down into that gorgeous face now so placid as he stared up at me. I loved him, even if I had never said the words, and I knew he loved me. We shared a need for each other that went far beyond what our bodies craved, and I cherished that vulnerable part deep inside him that he showed me in moments like this.
The memory of that night left me longing to hold him and tell him I missed him. Nothing compared to him for me. He was everything to me, and I was lost without him.
Chapter Two
Tristan
Mid-afternoon was the hardest. I could deal with early morning. I felt like shit the moment I opened my eyes, but I could handle it. Nina’s texts after I’d been up for hours doing nothing but thinking—that killed me. Every day I had to talk myself out of calling her and hearing her sweet voice tell me she missed me. I knew I shouldn’t, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to.
I scrolled through months of texts, feeling worse with each passing one. Telling myself what I was doing was for her benefit did little to make me feel like a hero in this. Four months had gone by, and other than feeling like I wanted to die most days because of what I was putting Nina through, I was no closer to finding out what Karl believed was in Joseph Edwards’ notebook. I’d read it from cover to cover, dozens of times reliving the horror of what my father and Taylor had done, but still I couldn’t find the slightest detail to explain why my possessing those notes meant anything to Karl or the Board.
Each day I spent hours emotionally crucifying myself, only to hear my phone vibrate in front of me with Nina’s good morning text that never failed to rip my heart out. I imagined her waking up in our bed alone, all curled up like she always was in the morning, her hair all tousled and that sleepy look on her face.
Fucking hell! How long was I going to have to pay for what my father and brother did?
The first few months I barely remembered. Between the coke and the alcohol, I’d succeeded in losing days at a time, intent on finding some way of blunting my unhappiness. Easier than facing reality, all the self-abuse ended up achieving was making me feel worse.
Hidden