The way he was made me crazy. Crazy for him. Crazy because of him. Fucking crazy. He'd left this morning without a word or even a gentle brush of his hand against mine to say goodbye, and he'd returned wanting nothing but me. What was with this guy? How did he do it? I could barely keep my hands off him, and there were times he stood close enough to touch me and never did.
It was maddening. And I loved it. Without force or any restraints, he'd taken over my every thought and feeling, and I was helpless to fight against it. Hell, I didn't want to fight against it. I wanted to let my mind and body give in to everything he offered.
"I ordered seared duck," he whispered as he slid up my body until his lips met mine in a gentle kiss. "I wasn't really in the mood for too much adventure in my food tonight. Do you like duck?"
"I've never had it. What does it taste like?"
"Chicken."
I opened my eyes at his answer. "Really?"
Smiling, he licked his lips and kissed me again. Against the corner of my mouth, he whispered, "No."
"Oh. Will I like it?"
He hovered above me looking down into my eyes. "Yes, I promise you'll love it. My chef makes it with a fig sauce that tastes incredible."
"Are we going down to the restaurant to eat?" I asked, praying to God he'd say no.
He moved his body up mine until his mouth was next to my ear. "We can, if you want. Do you want to leave, Nina?" His voice was a slow whisper that made a delicious ache coil in my belly, and I would have given everything I owned to not leave that spot.
"No," I said quietly as he pushed his hips forward, sliding his hard cock against my panties. "I think here is perfect."
"Good. Have anything in mind for what we should do until dinner comes?" he murmured in my ear as he pushed his hips toward me again.
"You're such a tease."
He lifted his head and smiled that wicked smile I'd only seen once or twice. "Tease? You want me to tease you?"
"No. I hate being teased."
Tristan rolled off me and propped his head up with his hand. He looked down at me, still smiling, and ran his finger over my lips. "You're cute when you pout."
Cute. That was definitely not what I wanted to be thought of. Cute was for puppies, kittens, and little girls. Now I really pouted.
"Oh, more pouting. I must have said something wrong. Let me guess. You don't want me to call you cute."
He was teasing me, and I didn't like it. "I'm glad I'm amusing you, Tristan. Maybe I can dress up like some little girl and you can pick on me like some bully on the playground."
"Someone's touchy tonight."
That was it. I didn't like this Tristan. He reminded me too much of every other guy in the world. That bothered me. He was supposed to be more, better. Now he was nothing but a guy who seemed to have forgotten how to treat me.
I sat up and stood from the bed. "I'm going to take a bath. Let me know when the food gets here."
As I walked toward the bathroom, I felt like crying. I didn't know why either. I knew I was probably overreacting, but something in Tristan seemed less special now, and I hated that. If he was just an ordinary guy with lots of money, then somehow I felt less, like I'd let myself be fooled.
I slid into the tub and let the water run until it nearly overflowed. I wanted to get lost in that water until everything around me disappeared. Behind me through the massive windows the scenes of the city played out, but I didn't want to see them either. I just wanted to close my eyes and pretend nothing had happened.
The water soothed my body, but my head and heart still ached. I sat there with the bath water up to my chin and fought back the recriminations. My insecurities had reared their ugly heads again, and as the water cooled around me, I silently admitted that this wasn't about Tristan.
This was about me. This was about my feeling like I didn't belong here, just like I'd felt that first night when I'd flubbed Tristan's test.
I heard the door open, and he walked silently past me. I didn't want to open my eyes, hoping that if I didn't, I wouldn't have to see the look on his face.
Tristan crouched down behind me and slid his hands over my shoulders. "Nina, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by what I said."
That only made it worse. I had caused the problem and now he was apologizing. "Don't. It was all me."
I opened my eyes and looked down at his hands stroking my arms. This situation was desperately in need of some lightening. "This is some bathtub. I think my dorm room was this size."
He chuckled behind me and slipped his hands from my body. "And I bet you shared a room too."
Leaning back to look at him, I watched as he stepped out of his pants and boxers, leaving them in a heap on the floor. I moved forward in the tub to accommodate his body, sending water flowing over the sides, and he slid into the water behind me, taking me into his arms.
Still hoping to lighten the mood, I joked, "I don't remember being this close to my roommate in college. Maybe our dorm room was a little bigger."
Water sloshed against the sides of the tub and more spilled out onto the floor as he wrapped his legs around me. All the times we'd been together, I'd never noticed how long his legs were. They barely fit inside the tub.
"Do you know this is my first time in this bathtub?"
"That makes sense since your legs are almost too long for it."
I ran my palms over his knees and down his shins, feeling the soft hair against my skin. I'd always loved how masculine men's legs looked when there wasn't too much hair so they looked like grizzly bears or too little that I'd wonder if my legs had more when I forgot to shave for a few days. His had the perfect amount in all the right places.
"I think the designer naturally thought we'd sit the other way since the real view is out the window," he said as he moved my hair off my shoulder. "I like this way better."
"Staring at an empty shower?"
He gently pulled my head back to rest on his chest and ran his fingertips across my forehead. "With you."
Two words and he made me want to forget all my insecurities, all my worries about not being enough. He kissed the top of my head, and almost as if he could read my mind, whispered, "I like how you make me feel, Nina."
I said nothing, knowing he probably wanted to hear me say I liked how he made me feel. I wanted to say something—to tell him that I'd never felt anything like how he made me feel—but I couldn't. If he rejected me there, as I sat naked in his arms, or worse, said nothing in return, everything I feared would finally be true. I couldn't handle that.