“You’re really pressed about that, aren’t you?”
“I really fucking am,” he admitted. “Like… I was about to whoop ol’ boy’s ass.”
I smirked. “Well… you can keep your hands to yourself over me tonight,” I told him, even though… I kinda liked that energy.
Really liked it.
Which was probably not good, but whatever.
“You sure?” he asked, putting his hands at my waist to pull me against him.
“Yeah,” I nodded, then accepted the soft, quick kiss he offered. “I’m going home. Alone.”
So… I did exactly that, after we’d said our goodbyes.
I showered, and got into bed, and then, before I drifted off, when Tristan’s name flashed on my screen with a text… I smiled.
Maybe something really was going right?
“Go for a walk with me. – Neighborhood Hottie”
The already quite pleasing occurrence of Tristan texting was somehow even better now that I’d changed his name in my phone – the whole neighborhood hottie thing was quite amusing to me.
What was not amusing was this text coming through at five-something in the morning, breaking into my tenuous hold on the fringes of a good night’s sleep.
“A walk? What are you even talking about?” I texted back, planting my face in the pillow after I’d dropped the phone back down on the bed. A moment later, it buzzed again, with a message that despite my annoyance, made me laugh.
“Yes, a walk. You know… that thing you do with your feet, to get around? – Neighborhood Hottie”
“Kiss my ass.”
“You’d enjoy that way too much. – Neighborhood Hottie.”
I groaned, and stuck my face right back into the pillow to scream, because… yes.
Yes I would.
I was so fucking weak.
So… horny.
Like nothing I’d ever, ever experienced before.
That little bit of relief Tristan had given me at the coffeehouse that night had lasted all of maybe an hour before I was right back to thinking about how I could make him give me what I wanted.
And I could, definitely, make him give me what I wanted.
If only these pesky ass feelings weren’t in the way.
“So… you coming or not? I’ll be at your door in five minutes. – Neighborhood Hottie”
Wait.
What?!
I sprung out of bed, racing to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. Luckily, my silk scarf had stayed put last night, which made it easy to brush my hair into a simple ponytail.
I never did make it back to the phone in time to respond to that text – in exactly the five minutes he’d mentioned, the bell at the candle shop door rang, while I was still getting dressed.
Shit.
I jogged down the stairs in bike shorts and a sports bra, figuring I could at least make him look at what he was choosing not to have.
He didn’t disappoint.
The look on his face – the lust in his eyes – was quite gratifying when I opened the door to him holding two cups from Urban Grind.
“Good morning,” he said, clearing his throat before forcing his gaze to remain at my face. “I brought you that tea thing that you like.”
“Thank you.” I accepted the cup, and gestured for him to step inside. “And good morning to you too. I just… I was asleep when you texted, so I need a few more minutes to finish up. If you wanna come upstairs. You can keep your pants on, I promise.”
Why the fuck did you say that?
“Uh… yeah. I can come up there,” he replied. “Only since you promised.”
I’d already started up the stairs, but looked back, smirking when I realized his eyes were glued to my ass as he followed me up. “There’s plenty of things that don’t require your pants coming off, Tristan.”
“Could you not?” he groaned, and I laughed as I finished climbing the last few steps. I pushed my door open and went inside, searching out socks, shoes, and a tee shirt to complete my outfit for this…
“Is this a date?” I asked, peeking around the partition I’d put up as a bedroom “wall”. I couldn’t be sure he actually heard me – he was too busy looking around in awe.
“So this is your space, huh?” he asked, the wonderment on his face being taken over by a smile. “It’s… bright.”
I took a sip from the drink he’d brought – a mocha matcha madness – then raised an eyebrow. “Why do you seem so surprised by that?”
“It’s … not what I expected,” he said, stepping over to the window to look out. “I mean, you had me tattoo a storm on you, and you’re all on your mystery shit… I thought your space would be moody or something. This is … pretty.”
Once I’d pulled my shirt over my head, I looked around, trying to see what he saw. And… yeah, I guess I did. My chosen color palette involved lots of whites and delicate grays, with the occasional pale touch of teal. Lots of soft textures to break up the hard surfaces, no darkness.
I wanted a space that made me feel good, and… this did.
When I told him that, his lips spread into a full-blown smile. “Thank you for inviting me into your sanctuary.”
I shrugged. “Thank my mentor. She’s the one who encouraged me to be more trusting, and open, so…”
“A mentor? That’s dope,” Tristan nodded, following me back to the door now that I had on shoes and had grabbed my latte, keys, and everything for my little crossbody pouch. “It’s nice to have that guidance and all that.”
“Yeah. She um… used to be in the same industry as me, so she kinda understands all the… unique challenges of transitioning out of it. She’s really been a life saver for me.”
“Ay – you never did tell me what you used to do,” he spoke up, as we stepped out of the shop. “Did I tell you Kiara thinks you’re a spy?”
I smiled. “I thought it was an assassin. At least, that’s what she said to me.”
“It’s evolved to both,” he explained, chuckling. “I suppose I shouldn’t complain about the girl
