What threatened to break me, was this firm rejection, when I’d thought – when he made it seem like – he wanted me.
Badly.
Shit.
“Of course,” I stammered, pushing out an awkward laugh. “I shouldn’t assume you want to fuck me just because you’ve… been in my face, nonstop, acting like you want to fuck me.”
“Temp, it’s not—”
“Stop calling me that,” I snapped, suddenly back on the verge of tears I’d overridden three times in the last twenty-four hours already. I was out of practice now – I wasn’t sure I could keep holding them back. “And you don’t have to try to spare my feelings – you can go.”
“It ain’t that either,” he countered, pushing off from the wall to get in my face.
“What is it then?”
“This.”
The this he spoke of was an arm around my waist, pulling me against him, and a hand in my hair, fingers tangled in the strands as his mouth came to mine.
His soft full lips against mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hardness pressed against my stomach, his hand sliding from my waist to grip my ass as he deepened the kiss…
I felt it everywhere.
The giddy lightheadedness, the flutters deep in my belly, the throbbing heat between my legs…
This was… everything.
And it was over much too soon.
“I don’t want to come inside tonight, because… I like you. And I would like it to just… be that, before we make it something else,” he murmured against my lips before he finally pulled back.
“You don’t know me.”
He smirked. “And I’ve already explained how I feel about that. So…”
“So, what?” I asked, my heart still racing from the sudden excitement of that kiss.
“So… stop fucking around Temp…est,” he quickly added, with a goofy grin that I couldn’t help responding to in kind. “Meaning… let me get to know you.”
“I don’t want to.” I shook my head. “Getting to know people is… messy. And hard. Coming upstairs is very, very easy.”
Tristan drug his teeth over his lip, nodding. “Yeah. That’s exactly why I’m not interested in that, sweetheart. Goodnight,” he said, pulling me close again without any type of warning, for another kiss.
A quick one this time, but with the same type of butterflies.
I… didn’t know what to say.
So instead of trying, I said nothing, just returned his wave when he started to walk off.
“Go inside, T, so I know you got all the way home safe,” he called to me before he turned to make sure I was doing so.
Instead, he caught me staring after him.
Embarrassed, I quickly retrieved my keys, not even looking back until I was on the other side of the door.
He waved again, and I waved back, then rushed upstairs to see the street so I could watch him walk past.
Like some silly girl with a crush.
Which… I guess was pretty damn accurate.
The more I thought about him declining my invitation, the angrier I got.
Being turned down was not… a thing that happened to me.
Granted, every sexual experience I could remember had been very specifically targeted – the way I looked, the things I’d said, the clothes I’d worn… everything was curated and neatly typed out along with a slew of other information telling me exactly what my mark wanted.
Tristan wasn’t a mark though.
And what he wanted wasn’t… me.
He kissed you though.
And explained exactly why he didn’t want to have sex yet.
Sure.
Logically, I understood the contradiction.
But, I was no longer operating on pure logic and calculated steps – it felt really shitty, that my first attempt at intimacy with someone who wasn’t part of a mission had been a fucking failure.
Because it wasn’t just a thing that happened – not for someone like me.
Failure was a complete state of being, a disappointment that deserved to be punished, harshly.
And hell… it was confusing.
A man.
Not fucking someone he supposedly liked.
Men would fuck people they didn’t like, at peril of losing their family, friends, jobs, whole livelihoods.
Hell.
Their lives.
It’s bullshit. Maybe you’re not his type.
No, that was bullshit.
I was everybody’s fucking type.
I kept my honey-toned skin glowing and flawless, kept my body fat punished into submission, hair nourished and healthy, and I couldn’t take any credit for my face, but that was fucking amazing too.
There was nothing wrong with me.
There was something wrong with him.
Yeah, yeah, you’re cute.
But seriously, could you be any weirder?
Oh.
Yeah.
There was that, huh?
I hadn’t exactly been at my most charming, hadn’t yet mastered the keeping of my cool around Tristan yet. I always felt so brutally awkward, that it only made sense for him to have picked up on the same thing.
He kissed you though.
Yes.
He did.
And what a kiss it had been.
Essentially my first, at least on a personal level.
Problem was, I hadn’t seen or heard from him in the several days passed since then.
Had I left my house and been in public?
No.
Did he have my number?
Also no.
Had I answered the bell at the candle shop for anyone?
Still no.
But still.
If he was really interested, he wouldn’t let silly things like that stop him, so I had to assume this was all something for me to take as a lesson and move on.
All the shit I’d ordered for the shop was due to arrive today.
In fact, only a few moments after the thought crossed my mind, I watched a delivery truck pull up, causing a spark of excitement to bloom in my chest.
Which made me even happier.
Excitement was good.
I rushed downstairs, making it to the door before the delivery person had even touched the bell. Hurriedly, I signed the little electronic clipboard to confirm it was me, then stepped aside so my packages could be brought inside.
As soon as they were gone, I dived right in.
I took my time with the unpacking, making sure to put everything in the spots I’d already planned out back in the workroom. Never mind that I
