Lingus (39 page)

I dropped my hands and pulled them down so his palms could cup my chest. His rough hands squeezed and kneaded my flesh lightly. "Tristan, please," I begged, for what I didn't know.

He groaned and brushed his thumbs over each of my nipples once. I saw him grab for the shirt he'd just peeled off and tugged it down over my head, leading my arms through the sleeve openings. "Not tonight, you have that burn and we both need to wake up early," he said, but I could sense a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

I grunted and snapped my head around to look at his face. "Seriously?"

He just grinned and pulled the covers over to slide underneath them. "Dead. Come on." He held up the covers right next to him so that I could slip underneath them too. “It’s only because I care about you that I don’t have you pinned underneath me.”

I scowled at him and slid deeper into the sheets. I knew I probably wouldn't enjoy getting down and dirty with him since my shoulders ached, but I thought that was beyond the point. The fucking tease. "You suck."

He flicked the lights off before settling in close enough to brush his fingertips against mine. I had just started dozing off when I felt his fingers tighten in mine. "Thank you," he whispered.

I wondered what exactly he was thankful for.

Chapter 52

One night turned into three, then five, and ended with seven.

My sunburn went from a seven on the pain scale down to a two during that time period. My quick recovery was mostly in thanks to Tristan and Zoey dousing me in aloe vera gel each chance they got. By the end of the week, I'd started peeling and had to whack Tristan's hands away from my shoulders when he tried to peel off the dry skin.

I stayed over at his house one other time during week at his insistence. I woke up after he went to exercise and before he made it back into the shower. It wasn't a coincidence that I woke up in time to see him peeling off his sweaty workout clothes before getting into the shower. I learned after my first morning that he made it back home right at six-thirty in the morning. My alarm was set to five minutes before that time, which allowed me a chance to hit the snooze button once, before I got to witness the best strip show on Earth. I had to fight the urge to throw dollar bills at his smoking hot body the first morning I saw him all wet, sweaty, and perfect.

I wanted to be wet and sweaty with him, but he somehow managed to keep us fully clothed and only engaging in mouth-to-mouth activities. After a particularly fun evening on his couch, where my shirt ended up on the floor while I straddled his lap and his hands rested on my ass, I had to go home and pull out one of my favorite Andrew Wood DVDs. My beloved hummingbird came out to play as well. Half of me was beyond disappointed that he had such a tight rein on his control, somehow managing to stop us when we started getting a little too intense.

The other half of me, the one that wasn't a whore who craved Tristan's cock on an hourly basis, got excited about the fact that he was taking his time with me. I'd been worried in the past that I would be meaningless to him, that being with me would be just like being with any other female, porn or no porn. Was it wrong that I wanted to be special? I didn't think so. Every thing he did when we were together cemented the idea that I was important to him. I couldn't expect anything less from him though, even as strictly friends he'd always treated me much better than any other man in my life besides Josh.

The week before school started, I was in my classroom setting up my walls when my cell's alert went off. Digging into my drawer for my purse, I pulled out my phone to see Magellan's name across the front.

Which number is your classroom?

I typed out my response in a second.
10B. Why?

:)
Was the only response I got a minute later.

I shrugged and left my phone on the desk while I finished grabbing the poster I'd been hanging on the wall when the text came in. I'd just turned around to tape it to the bland cream wall when the door to the classroom opened.

"Stop!" the deep voice that I'd grown too fond of called out.

"Jesus!" I squeaked, spinning around on my heel to face the source of the voice. "You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?" I asked Tristan, dropping the poster and roll of tape onto my desk.

He grinned at me before shuffling three cylinder-shaped boxes under his arm onto the closest desk to the door. In his dress pants and button down shirt, he strode two long steps over to me and wrapped his arms around my upper back before squeezing me to him. "I came to see my favorite teacher," he chuckled. "Ms. West, your next door neighbor."

I laughed and ducked my head instinctively for the spot right underneath his chin where I could breathe in his clean scent, and then wrapped my arms around his ribs. "Oh, you came to see Ms. West? I'll make sure to tell her girlfriend you came by," I said against the dark blue material of his shirt. Ana West was the only employee at Tucker who recognized Zoey off the bat the first time she came to visit me. Apparently her girlfriend was also very familiar with Zoey's work. Needless to say, they were big fans.

"I guess that's why she told me we can't see each other anymore, damn it," he muttered, squeezing me tightly against him one more time before pulling away. Green eyes raked over my jeans and cardigan quickly before he leaned forward to plant a warm, lingering kiss on my lips.

I made some kind of weird moaning noise when he kissed my bottom lip. "You should visit me more often."

"I will." Tristan pulled away smiling and pointed at the boxes he'd brought in. "I took too long eating, and then trying to find your room so I can only stay a few minutes, but I brought you something. Or things, I guess."

He handed me one of the large cardboard cylinders that were lying on the desk. I didn't say anything as I tore off the tape at the top, and then used my fingernails to pull off the end. Flipping the box over, a rolled up poster slipped out and I unfolded it to see a large poster of Albert Einstein and a quirky quote beneath his picture.

I turned to look at him, grinning because I loved the poster and Albert Einstein. "Mag—"

Another box was thrust into my hands before I kept going. "Open up all of them, and then you can tell me thank you," he grinned.

I pulled the top off the second box and flipped it so that another poster slipped out. The second one was of Rosie the Riveter, who was flexing her guns in the picture with "We Can Do It!" displayed across the top. My body sucked in a deep breath of its own, feeling slightly overwhelmed at his thoughtfulness.

"One more," his velvet voice said, pushing another box into my hands before he squeezed my shoulder in passing.

Opening up the last package, I pulled out a poster of three sharpened pencils facing up with one upside down, words about individuality dotted across the bottom.

My heart did this weird kind of thing where it felt like it expanded and tightened, sucking the air out of my lungs. To say I felt overwhelmed would be an understatement. I'd been extremely fortunate in my life to have such amazing parents, then three friends later in life who filled my life with love, and now this dorky, beautiful man who bought me posters for my classroom. Posters. For. My. Classroom. The gesture tugged at my insides and my head.

In a split second, I'd dropped the poster onto the desk and in a move I didn't think I was capable of, jumped up and onto Tristan before wrapping my legs around his slim waist. He took a step back to brace himself since he wasn't expecting me to do that and grabbed my thighs to hoist me up evenly. "Jesus, goldie," he chuckled, gripping my thighs tightly.

"Thank you so much," I whispered into his ear, because the moment felt so personal and so close to my heart that I didn't want to risk sharing it with anyone else. I pressed my lips against his cheeks, while raking my fingers through his soft hair. "Thank you so, so much."

I saw his light green eyes flutter to a close while I scratched at his scalp, and then kissed his thick eyebrows and nose. "Kat," he murmured.

I thought my heart was going to explode into a million pieces while I absorbed his actions and his perfect face. I almost couldn't believe that this was real life. He smiled with his eyes closed, shifting his arm to slide underneath my ass while the other wrapped in a slant across my back to grip my shoulder. My chest was pressed against his in this new position and I sucked in another breath. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against his smooth one. Was this real?

This had to be real.

Warm lips pressed against my top and then my bottom lip, sucking each gently. His hot breath washed over my face and my chest ached again. "I'm glad you liked them," he said just as quietly as I did before.

"Thank you, Mag," I said, opening up my eyes to look into his apple colored ones. The corners of his eyes were crinkled with his smile that made my heart clench. "I love them."

After he left, I stayed in my classroom hanging up my new posters and thinking about Tristan more than I had ever done before— and that was saying something considering I thought about him pretty much all day. It seemed like every other thought in my head revolved around him, but there was something after this last short and sweet visit that made these thoughts different. I felt different. Better. There were some teachers here who had gotten flowers from their boyfriends or husbands, some even got balloons, but there was something about the thought he put into specially ordering me things to decorate my classroom that seemed so much better than that.

I'd never felt this way with anyone else in my life before. I knew that. I knew that I loved hanging out with him. I knew that I loved it when he teased me. I knew that I loved his mouth. I loved his kind heart.

I thought and thought some more.

Chapter 53

That night, I went over to his house for dinner. I’d tried to figure out why the intensity between us felt so altered all of a sudden. We had only technically been together for three weeks, but we'd been friends for a multiplied version of that time. I'd cared for him for months, even before he was really my friend. I mean, who else would go and take care of a sick person that they barely knew? I liked him as a person and for his hot ass body from the moment I met him. Besides Nicole and Zoey, who I had clung to like a trapped insect on a spiders web, there had never been anyone I'd taken to so easily, and yet, he and what we had was completely different.

"This is so good, Mag," I moaned, slurping my noodles. "I think I love your mom."

He nodded, shoveling another forkful of fettucine into his mouth. "I need to take you over to see them," he garbled.

I couldn't help but smile at the idea that he wanted me to go meet his beloved mother. It would be a lie if I said that I didn't like knowing how much he valued the relationship he had with his parents but especially with his mom. Maybe it was because I lost my mom so young, but knowing that he was close to his made me feel more grateful for the time I'd gotten to spend with mine. I couldn't help but appreciate my dad that much more. "I'd like that," I told him.

His smile was cheeky and sweet. "She's been harassing me for the last week to bring you over. If I don't do it soon she's going to show up here randomly."

Polishing off the last portion of my food, I wiped my mouth and watched Tristan eat as non-creepily as I could.

He slapped his palm across the countertop unexpectedly like he remembered something important all of a sudden. "Goldie, I want to see the pictures from Universal Studios," he said with a mouthful of fettucine alfredo. He'd already reminded me about wanting to see the pictures at least three other times, but I kept forgetting to bring my computer over.

I nodded at him and hopped off the stool. "I brought my laptop, let me go grab it," I said, walking into the living room to grab my computer from its spot on his coffee table and nudging a passed out Yoda with my foot.

Tristan was putting our plates into the sink when I came back in and set the computer on the kitchen island before unlocking it and then opening up my iPhoto. He came and sat down on the stool next to mine. Instead of scooting his seat closer to mine, he grabbed the sides of my stool and started pulling it closer to him before I slapped him on the chest with the back of my hand and stood up.

"I'll wash the dishes while you look at them," I said with my back to him. "I've already seen them."

"Deal," he shrugged. Tristan tilted the screen in his direction to start clicking through the twenty or so pictures we'd taken with my digital camera. I'd completely forgotten that I brought it with me on the trip until the last day, like a moron.

I'd just started scrubbing the large pot when I heard him laugh. I turned to look at him over my shoulder and found him smiling at the screen. "What?"

"You looked like such a hobo in my shirt," he answered, smiling at the screen while his fingers kept clicking through pictures. "Like a cute, little hobo."

I snorted as unladylike as possible and turned back. "Whatever."

I heard him chuckle a few more times in the next few minutes, but it was when a few minutes turned into even more minutes that I glanced over my shoulder again to see him staring at the screen intently.

Then I heard it.

I heard a moan that I hadn't heard in years. Four and a half years to be exact.