Ravished (The Teplo Trilogy #1) (34 page)

"Davis."

"Oh." She frowned. "He seems nice."

Tristan snorted.

"Well, he does."

"He is nice when he wants to be. Come on. We've got shit to do."

Lillian fell into step beside him again.

"Do you really think he works for the cartel?" she asked, glancing at the edge of the photo sticking out of Tristan's pocket.

"Probably." It'd be a fucking miracle if the blond didn't work for Francisco. And miracles were still in short supply. If that motherfucker got anywhere near Lillian….

No. Wouldn't happen.

Tristan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"I'm sorry." Lillian reached out and squeezed his hand.

"Me too," he muttered, aching to wrap his arms around her and hold on until the furious pounding in his head subsided. "Me too."

Chapter Twenty-Four

"That's bullshit, Jase," Tristan growled into the phone. He paced through the kitchen, one hand gripping his hair, the other holding his cell phone to his ear. A thunderous scowl cast his face into dark shadow. The muscles in his arms and chest rippled with tension beneath his black t-shirt.

"So they're just going to decriminalize it and call it a day? What does that solve?" he demanded.

Decriminalize it?

Lillian's brow climbed as she tried to figure out what Tristan and Jason were arguing about. She opened her mouth to ask and then closed it, not sure she wanted to push for answers when every line of Tristan's body was rigid and tense, his blue eyes narrowed. He was wound up tight and had been ever since they'd met with Jason.

In the five days since that meeting, things had changed inside
Teplo
. Everything balanced on the edge of a razor. Each night, the energy inside the club grew more frenzied. More and more people found their way inside. The drugs appeared earlier. Smoke filled the place until Lillian's eyes and throat burned.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for something, growing impatient.

Chaos threatened to erupt at any moment. But Tristan got no closer to finding what he needed. Each time he failed, his frustration grew. Tension built in him, so high she wasn't sure how he kept from exploding.

On Friday night, he had prowled the club like a caged animal, trying to protect her, trying to find a way inside the storage room, trying to keep an eye on the blond and the Vetrov family's people. He tried to do too much at once, and the pressure drove him crazy. When they left the club that night, he'd taken her like a man possessed. His eyes were on fire, his jaw clenched and his muscles rigid as he'd pulled her clothes from her body, put her gun to the side, lifted her from her feet, and sheathed himself inside of her against the front door.

It'd been a long time before they made it to the bedroom.

The next night had been a disaster from the beginning. The crowd was larger and more frenzied than she had ever seen them. She would have been okay, or so she kept telling herself, but there were too many of them. Every time she and Tristan so much as attempted to move through the crowd, someone would bump into her.

It had scared the hell out of her.

Less than an hour after they walked through the front doors, Tristan had pulled her out again. Even after he stripped her down and climbed into bed with her, she hadn't been able to stop shaking. His touches had not been sexual that night. His whispers were comforting, soothing. It'd taken a long time before she'd finally fallen asleep, her head on his chest and his fingers playing in her hair.

Convincing him to go back on Monday night had taken a miracle, but he'd finally relented. She stayed right beside him all night, watching as he filmed with the little camera disguised as a lighter that he'd pulled from his pocket. When they got close enough to the storage room to see it clearly, Lillian had divided her attention between Tristan and the door. Every few minutes, one of the guards would circle around. They came from different angles, sometimes popping up out of the crowd on the dance floor, sometimes from one side or the other. There was no rhyme or reason to where they came from, which one appeared, or when. They just did.

After watching for half an hour, she felt ready to tear her own hair out. Tristan had taken one look at her and pulled her onto the dance floor, telling her she needed to relax. When she told him the same thing, he'd responded by running his hands all across her body.

Things quickly burst into flame between them from there.

Somehow though, he'd managed to get her home before he'd fucked her. The sex had been like a storm raging between them. Ferocious.

She'd felt calmer afterward, but he hadn't. He seemed like a caged animal, the lights in his eyes wild.

Jason's call as soon as they'd woken this morning had only made things worse.

"No, I'm not coming back into the office to listen to Davis say the same damn thing you just said," Tristan snapped. "He'll put it in a fucking memo by the end of the day anyway."

Lillian sipped her water, watching him.

"Jase…." his voice took on a warning tone. He paused, listening, and then rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Has Mr. Yin talked yet?"

She leaned back into the counter as he let go of his hair and stepped up in front of her. His expression was still clouded, but it softened a little as he reached out to touch the fresh marks he'd left on her skin. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of the marks she'd left on him, too. She didn't even remember leaving them, but when he woke this morning, he had scratches down his back.

"He lawyered up?" Tristan asked, trailing his fingers down her throat and then back up.

She tilted her head to give him better access.

His expression softened further, the fires in his eyes morphing to a wicked blue – the same blue that touched her everywhere. Her chest, low in her belly, and lower. He followed that same path with his hands, running them all over her body.

"Tristan," she moaned quietly.

He stepped closer, trapping her between his body and the counter.

"Mmhmm," he murmured into the phone, delving beneath the fabric of her leotard to peel it down her right arm. His expression was one full of concentration. Whatever he'd been so angry about two minutes before no longer held his attention.

Lillian grasped the countertop to steady herself.

He set to work on the other sleeve, tugging and pulling until it, too, slid down her arm and then off. He groaned when her naked breasts spilled free. She groaned too, beyond turned on by the heat in his gaze.

His eyes fell on her already taut nipples, and darkened further. "Yeah," he mumbled to Jason, reaching out to stroke her right breast.

She slapped her hand down atop the counter, fire blazing inside at that single, simple touch. The hum along her skin – the pure, electric current he sent shooting through her every time he put his hands on her body – seemed to get stronger by the day. The more he touched her, the more she wanted him. Her entire body literally ached for more as soon as his skin met hers. That first touch eased the gnawing burn, but it never lasted long enough. As soon as he moved away from her, she wanted more. Always more. The way she craved release from the pressure frightened her. Exhilarated her.

And when release came? When he gave her what she needed and her world shattered into little, sated pieces?

There was nothing else like it.

During those moments, she almost understood what led people like Marc or Emma to pump their bodies full of poison. If drugs made them feel half of what Tristan made her feel, she could understand reaching for that high. But there wasn't a drug that could come anywhere close to having the same powerful effect on her that Tristan did. That would make her feel like he did. Constantly burning. Aching. Craving.

More, more, more.

"Tristan…."

He ignored her soft warning and rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze riveted to her chest. She had to bite her lip to keep from moaning loudly at the possessive, captivated way he stared, and at the soft, absorbed way he touched her. A small whimper escaped her lips anyway, pulled out by the tangle of pleasure and desire rushing like flood waters through her.

His gaze snapped up to meet hers, his expression almost surprised; as if he had not noticed what he was doing to her. Little fires scorched her all over when he pressed his erection into her stomach.

She couldn't stop the moan breaking from her lips this time.

"Off," he mouthed, his expression feral as he tugged the leotard down. "Now."

She helped him shimmy it down her torso. Her panties went with it, his fingers slipping between her legs as soon as he had the leotard off her body. Pressing two fingers into her, he began pumping in and out. She clutched the countertop, trying not to cry out as her stomach muscles clenched.

He smirked, that damn phone still at his ear.

Instead of jerking it out of his hand and tossing it across the room as she wanted to do, she reached out and slipped her hand beneath his sweats, curling her fingers around his hard length. His head fell back as she pumped him. Another hiss fell from his lips.

He bucked his hips into her hand.

She smiled, satisfied at his reaction… until he noticed the smirk on her face and twisted his fingers inside of her, hitting the spot that made her entire body tingle.

"Oh!" Another warm rush of sensation swarmed her. She tightened her grip on him, squeezing his cock and twisting her hand, manipulating his flesh as he did hers.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Jase, I gotta go!"

The phone was gone in about two seconds, flipped closed and dropped on the counter before Tristan attacked her mouth with his. Plunging his free hand into her hair, he jerked her head to the side, deepening the angle of their kiss.

They were both breathless and panting in a matter of seconds.

"Bedroom," she mumbled, trying to force him backward with one hand on his chest. "Now."

"Here, beautiful," he countered. "Now."

He jerked his sweats down before grabbing a chair and sitting down, his cock standing at attention. His hands were on her waist before she had a chance to miss the feel of his fingers inside of her or the weight of his cock in her hand.

He lifted her easily from her feet, eyes nearly black with lust.

"Straddle me, baby."

She didn't ask a single question, simply did as he commanded, letting him lift her from her feet. He settled her down on his cock, sliding her down inch by inch.

"Oh, fuck," she hissed, her eyes rolling back in her head. He was so deep, so close. A delicious pressure right where she needed him.

"Mmm," he moaned in that sinful, velvety way of his and then leaned down to pull her nipple into his mouth. He bit gently before laving her with his tongue. "You feel so fucking good on top of me, Lillian."

She moaned her agreement.

His mouth covered hers. Another searing kiss made her head spin from all the sensations swirling through her. Wiry hair and the hard muscles of his thighs pressed at the insides of her thighs, spreading them as she straddled his hips in the middle of the kitchen.

Her leg didn't hurt, didn't register. Nothing did. All she felt was him and full. Those little fires from earlier licked at her everywhere their bodies touched and a thousand places they did not…. Across her back. In the air around them. Deep inside her chest.

"Please," she groaned, needing more. She wanted friction and him moving inside of her until the clawing desperation coursing through her veins exploded once more.

He lifted her up until his broad head played at her entrance, and then pulled her back down, filling her all over again. Reality floated away, obliterated by the feel of him inside her – fast and deep and hard and again. Just how she liked him. The frenzied pace he set made her feel weightless, like she flew as he manipulated her body, lifting her up and then slamming her back down onto him. He controlled her as he helped her fuck him, as he fucked her… she wasn't sure which was happening, just that it
was
happening.

He was quiet, quieter than he'd ever been and that was good, too. She loved the commands and questions and little whispers in her ear, but right then, she loved more knowing that he was as far gone as she was, loved that he couldn't think in a cohesive enough matter to speak. And she definitely loved the way he bit his bottom lip, his eyes riveted to her. Everything in her coiled and retracted, scrambling for release at the intensity in his gaze.

"Come on my cock, beautiful," he groaned, his jaw clenched and his head thrown back. "I want to feel it." He lifted her up and dropped her down, impaling her on him over and over.

Everything in her tightened, shrinking inward in preparation of the coming explosion.

"I can't wait much longer. So fucking tight. Christ, baby, come for me."

As soon as she heard that plea and felt his cock jerk inside of her as he started to come, she followed him over the edge. She cried out as she felt him releasing inside of her. Not in a condom this time, but in her. That probably shouldn't have driven her even higher, but it did. Her pussy clenched around his cock as he drove her down onto him a final time and held her there, his hips pushing up into hers as he cursed and she cried out until every last bit of tension snapped.

They slumped against one another, breathless, sweaty, and exhausted.

She sighed as clawing, frantic need floated away, replaced by languid warmth and soft peace.

Tristan rubbed her back, reveling in the quiet fulfillment. "Beautiful," he whispered, a hum vibrating in his chest.

She smiled and started to lift her head from his shoulder to kiss him, but didn't make it that far. The muscle in her thigh clenched tight as she shifted, pain snapping through bliss between one breath and the next.

"Oh!" she cried out, shards of pain lancing through her as the muscle knotted and refused to release.

"Beautiful?" Tristan's head popped up, his eyes wide as they focused on her. Before she could even slide backward on his lap, he rose from the chair as if burned, swinging her around until one arm supported her. He tucked the other under her knees, cradling her to his bare chest. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about-"