Broken Promises Read Online Free

his hands touching me. I trace his jaw with my finger before dropping it to his waist. I slip my palms under his shirt, wanting to feel him, to slide my hands up his back.
    Trystan’s kiss deepens. The guitar slides off his lap and lands on the pillows where he’d been sitting on the floor earlier. It makes a musical thud. My eyes fly open, and I pull away, worried he’ll be upset. “I’m sorry.”
    His eyes lock on mine. He doesn’t give the guitar a second thought. Taking my face in his hands, he leans in close enough to kiss me, but doesn’t. He licks his lips slowly, and I swear I can feel his heart beating. “Don’t be sorry. I’d rather hold you.”
    I want this. I want him. I don’t want to wait anymore. My lips press together a few times and tremble. He sees it. He knows what I’m going to say. There's always been a connection between us—as if he could read my mind.
    He kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, “We don’t have to, Mari.”
    Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him down, so his body presses mine into my mattress. I play with the hair that’s falling into a frame around his face. “I know, but I want to. I want you. I’ve always wanted you. Be with me, Trystan?”
    He remains slightly above me, holding me with one arm while leaning on his other elbow. The dark gray t-shirt he wears clings to his skin. There’s a tiny hole near the neck on the right side, showing a soft spot of skin—a place I want to kiss.
    Trystan's smile fades and his expression grows serious. “I love you.”
    “I love you, too.”
    Our eyes lock, igniting the rush of emotion flowing through me. He’s nervous, but he wants this as much as I do. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pull his face toward mine. “Kiss me, and don’t stop.”
    “Anything you want, my little kiss ninja.”
    His lips press to mine once more, and the floor of my stomach goes into free-fall. This is happening. I’m not going to say we have to wait anymore. I know him. I’m confident he’s in love with me, no matter what the tabloids say—no matter what Dad says.
    I push the thoughts away and reach for his shirt, tugging it over his head. He pulls it off the rest of the way and tosses it to the floor. When I reach for his jeans, he stops me, grabs both my hands and shakes his head. “Slow down. I want us to take our time. I want to learn every inch of your body, every curve.”
    Trystan slips his hand under my back and lifts me off the bed. Once I’m sitting up, he takes my tank top by the hem and lifts it up. After it's over my head, he tosses it on the floor with his shirt. His hands reach for me, and I suck in a sharp breath on contact. My eyes close as my head sways.
    I love his touch. It’s perfect, firm and possessive, but soft and gentle. It makes no sense, and yet it’s completely divine.
    His palm covers my breast as he leans into me. With one hand, he reaches around my back and unhooks my bra. My heart hammers harder at the thought of him finally seeing me, anticipation competing with uncertainty. My body isn’t anything magnificent. I’m average everything, with mud-brown hair and matching eyes.
    That’s the last thought I have on the matter. When he presses his lips to my skin, I gasp. My back stiffens and I fall back into the pillows, pulling him down with me.
    Trystan’s kisses feel like he’s worshipping a goddess. His mouth is all over me, tasting, teasing, and caressing me until my hips are bucking against him.
    “Trystan, please.” I call his name, begging him in a sultry voice that can’t possibly be mine.
    “Slowly, love. Slowly.” He hooks his thumbs over the edge of my shorts, tugging them and my panties off with one swift move.
    I lie back on my bed with him above me. His eyes trace my curves slowly, savoring them one by one before his hands do the same thing. He traces patterns on my stomach, forming swirls that lead to the tip of my breasts. He leans in and kisses me before doing it