Chapter Ten
Once Tristan dropped off Joy at his place and set her up on the couch with a steaming cup of black tea, a fleece blanket, and the remote control, he ran out to do some unspecified errands despite her insisting he stay home to recuperate after all the drama. With Rex and Cookie nestled between Joy’s knees, she flipped the TV channels, searching for something comical to erase the agonizing memory of the verbal lashing from her parents but it didn’t work.
Thinking of work—good thing this was her scheduled day off, otherwise she’d have some explaining to do to Lorraine about why she hadn’t shown up. That bit of relief eased her mind enough to gather her wits, fortify her frayed nerves, and figure out the future while she drifted in and out of a much-needed nap.
The rush of water rattling the downspout jolted Joy awake.
Heavy rain gushed against the living room windows, making it impossible to see anything between the blinds except the glowing dots of streetlights along Hollyhock Hill.
How many hours had passed without a phone call from Tristan? Her empty gut tightened into a nervous knot. No matter how careful the man might be, riding a motorcycle was daunting enough without inserting a downpour and darkness into the equation. New anxiety stripped away the last bit of her crumbling composure.
Then the springs of the screen door squeaked. Finally. Jangling keys probing the lock had the dogs leaping off the couch, barking out of synch.
Strange, there was no warning of rumbling tailpipes to announce Tristan’s arrival. Joy froze—if it wasn’t Tristan, then who could it be?
His friend Nick had a key. Maybe the man was coming to fix another meal.
Worst-case scenario would be his ex-wife, Whatshername. They shared a child after all, perhaps he entrusted the woman with a spare key. Joy and Victor had two children; still she was doubly sure she’d never give the jerk a key. Wouldn’t Tristan have mentioned something about his ex having a key when he invited Joy to move in?
Just in case…She would’ve sprinted down the hallway to hide before the front door flung open but it was too late, so she threw the blanket over her head hoping to blend into the furniture.
“Joy?”
Tristan. She exhaled in relief then emerged from her cocoon, stretching and yawning for effect.
“Sorry to wake you.” Empathic eyes searched hers. “Feelin’ any better?”
“Much. Back’s a little sore still.”
He touched the bump on her head. “Swelling’s gone down.” Warm hands rubbed the aches along her spine with just the right amount of gentle pressure as he nudged her toward the front door. “Take a look outside. I got somethin’ to show you.” His chest puffed up with pride.
Joy spotted an object larger than a breadbox with wheels parked in the driveway.
“Whaddaya think?”
It was difficult to know what to think considering the details were blurred by rain.
“Can’t take a motorcycle everywhere, can we?”
We? Joy’s heart smiled but she fought to keep it off her face, not wanting to take this we-business too seriously, too soon.
“A pickup truck was my first choice, figuring I could take it to work when you’re not using it. But a van makes better sense, ya know, for the kids. Nothing fancy. Good enough for toting tools and tots.
His face brightened with boyish delight as he flicked a wall switch wired to the floodlights over the garage, illuminating the night like sunshine. “Ta-da.” The shower tapered off to a drizzle, revealing the rain-slick custom paint job.
What the hell? A solid dark moss would’ve been perfect. Even metallic olive would have been nice. But garbage truck green? With thick white racing stripes down the hood and along the side, no less. Not quite the family vehicle she’d pictured carting the boys around in; it was more like a tailgater’s wet dream. Lacking words to match Tristan’s excitement, she pressed her nose to the glass door and bit her bottom lip in soundless shock.
Say something. Anything. From the corner of her eye, Joy stole a glimpse of him as his chest gradually deflated and she stifled the wisecracks. “Uhm…hmm…thank you.” Hopefully she came across more grateful than her meager mumbling sounded.
“Ya don’t like it, do you?” His face drooped like a kid whose ice cream cone landed upside down in the sandbox. “I shoulda checked with you before buying it, huh?”
Thinking about flying over the radar around town in this minibus made Joy cringe and she stalled to answer. She forced a sweet smile then hid her lying eyes by putting her nose to the glass again. “I like it. I really do. Really…What’s not to like? You’re right, it’s awesome.” She slathered on the fib before tossing a glance over her shoulder in time to catch his smile returning in full force—Thank God, the last thing she wanted was to insult his judgment after he’d gone out of his way to do something so considerate. The type of vehicle doesn’t matter—it’s the thought that counts.
“I bought it from a New York Jets super-fan who’s upgrading to a tricked-out camper.” Tristan beamed as he spun the key ring on his finger. “Another guy wanted it but I got there first.”
“Wow.” She refrained from giggling at his innocent enthusiasm. “You got lucky, huh? Where’s your Harley?”
“At the dude’s house.”
“You oughta get it before the rain starts coming down again.”
“I asked Nick for a ride but he’s busy. Are you up for givin’ the Green Machine a quick spin? It’s safer than a sports car.”
Physically, she was well enough to drive, but psychologically, the thought made her uneasy. “I don’t feel like driving right now.”
“Don’t let that accident wreck your confidence.” He kissed her forehead. “The sooner you get behind the wheel the better off you’ll be.”
“Oh, fine.” Joy sighed as she slipped on her sneakers and into the cardigan.
Once she climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors, and eased out of the driveway onto the empty road, she realized he was right as usual. When the mist turned to crystals, melting like tears on the windshield, she flicked on the wipers without a fumble. Not much different than the Jag, only bigger. Waiting at the intersection for the green arrow, Joy glanced at Tristan’s perfect profile in the stream of headlights from oncoming vehicles. What a fine looking man. Why would a newly divorced man want to spend so much time with one woman when he could easily date someone different every night of the week?
“Everything okay?” His eyes touched hers, and she snapped her head forward.
“Umm. Yeah. Of course.” Her heart fluttered faster than the wiper blades. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”
“Do what? Buy a practical vehicle? This isn’t exactly practical, is it?”
Joy shrugged, forgetting what the Green Machine looked like on the outside from the comfort of the captain’s seat. “Practical enough.”
“More practical than the Harley, that’s for sure. I can’t even bring home a pizza. I probably shoulda got a sedan or an SUV, but this baby caught my eye and I couldn’t refuse. I’ve been meaning to buy a family car since my ex kept the minivan,” Tristan rambled.
Tempted to ask if his ex kept anything else—like the spare key to the front door—Joy refrained as she concentrated on the road. When they got to the house where his Harley stood under the carport, he gave her a smooch before hopping out and leading the way home through the freak flurry.
Their appetite kicked in before the pizzeria closed, so they phoned in a large cheese pie for delivery and ate it in the living room while watching the weatherman’s report of the spring snow shower.
“So…” Tristan inhaled a third slice then licked tomato sauce off his fingers. “Like I was telling your parents, Nick’s got a few rentals that might interest you.”
His sudden switch of the gears, from precipitation to property, gave Joy conversational whiplash, and she gagged on a glob of mozzarella.
“You okay? Here—” He handed her a glass of water. “Take a sip.”
When she regained her composure, she blurted the first thing to pop in her head. “How ’bout the house next door?”
“Yeah, he owns that one too. But it’s a mess. It’ll take a few months before it’s ready. In the meantime, he’s got a bungalow on the beach that we renovated. Not sure how you feel about living so close to the water with the kids and the dog.”
Restraining her disappointment over never getting her hands on her childhood home, she swallowed a sigh. “Something with a fenced in yard would be better.”
“That’s what I thought. There’s another house but it’s only got two bedrooms. The boys can…can—” Tristan fought back a sneeze and lost. “Share.”
“God bless you.” Joy offered him tissue from the box on the end table. “If the price is right, I’d give them each a room.”
“Where would you sleep? On the couch?” He slid her a disapproving glance. “He’s got other property outside Scenic View if you don’t mind living a few towns away.”
Disheartened, she shrugged; tired of this conversation, exhausted from this whole crazy day.
“Or…” With his lips pressed tight, he inhaled through his nostrils and held it in quick contemplation. “How about you and the boys stay here. With me. The house looks small, but there’s plenty room for all of us.” His words fell out slow, as if he’d already given extensive thought to the delicate situation before releasing it to the universe. “Just until the right house comes along. Or forever.” He smiled, hopeful.
A nervous giggle escaped her throat. “I don’t want to cramp your style.”
“I wouldn’t’ve asked if I thought you would. So whaddaya say?”
“I—” She bit her tongue, stopping her scrupulous brain from spitting out some morally appropriate, polite refusal, while the sharp pain deterred her hasty heart from leaping over the edge of happily-ever-after singing yes, yes, yes in orgasmic enthusiasm.
“Before you say no, come on…” He tugged her by the wrist. “I never gave you the full tour, did I? See for yourself, then make an educated decision.”
Joy skated in her socks as he pulled her across the hardwood, around the already familiar first floor. “You’ve seen my room,” he said with a subtle grin, not making it sound as sleazy as he could’ve. “Next door’s Nicole’s room—I’m not done painting it yet.” He flicked on the light across the hall, where Joy spotted the clothes she’d abandoned last night in his kitchen, neatly folded on a full-sized bed. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to sleep in my bed.” A smattering of red crept into his cheeks. “I mean…I wouldn’t kick you out if you did.” He flinched as he fumbled for the words as if he neglected to rehearse this part of the sweet speech. “That didn’t come out quite right, did it?”
She shook her head, not because she agreed, but because she understood his adolescent awkwardness, feeling something similar.
“Then there’s the…the”—sneeze—“basement.” He opened a door to a downward staircase and flicked another wall switch.
“You okay?”
“Just allergies.”
The open floor plan was nothing elaborate, with beige wall-to-wall Berber, pale paneling, and a drop ceiling with florescent lights. A treadmill and free weights occupied one corner diagonal from the washing machine and dryer squatting next to stacked laundry baskets and a tall rubber garbage pail doubling as a hamper to catch the dirty clothes from the chute upstairs.
“I bet your boys would love a testosteroom all to themselves.”
“A testoster-what?” Joy cocked a curious brow.
“You know, a hangout all to themselves. My brothers and I had a No Girls Allowed zone to keep our little sister out of our stuff. It wouldn’t take much to partition this space into two bedrooms and a den.”
If her boys were a little older, they’d love the junior man-cave concept, however Joy doubted a five- and seven-year-old would stand one night.
“Put a big TV over there.” Tristan pointed to an empty wall, mapping his vision in the air, waving his hands like a magician. “Do they like video games?”
“Does your daughter like princesses?”
“I’ll take that as a hell, yeah. We’ll get a couple of gaming chairs. An Xbox or PlayStation, or better yet, both. It’ll be like heaven.”
Tristan’s idea started materializing for Joy, and as much as she would have loved to say yes to everything, she couldn’t.
To avoid any impulsive promises she’d wind up breaking, she hopped on the treadmill, put in the key and pushed the Start button. “I haven’t worked out in weeks.” That was the truth, and it was showing in snugger-than-usual clothes. “Do you use this stuff?” she huffed, adjusting the speed to a slow powerwalk in socks.
“I did in my old house. After I moved out, I was gonna put it all in storage, figuring I didn’t know how long I’d be staying in Scenic View. Why bother to move it here to there, only to move it again, ya know?”
Joy nodded, panting, feeling the burn in her calves. After a minute, she dropped the speed, pulled out the key, and hopped off before hurting herself without sneakers.
“Nick talked me into setting it up. Said we’d get back into our old workout routine.” Tristan snorted as if a private joke crossed his mind. “So far it’s been collecting dust. But feel free to use it whenever you want. Maybe you’ll motivate me to get back in shape.”
“I like your shape.”
Tristan smacked his stomach. “It used to be better. If you move in, we can exercise together.” He took her hands, weaving his fingers with hers. “Whaddaya say?”
She averted his invitation by playing coy. “We don’t have to live together to work out together.”
“I know.” In a fluid motion, Tristan pulled her against him and circled his arms around her waist, keeping her hands at the small of her back, giving her no alternative but to arch toward him. “But I want you here.”
How could she debate the pros and cons of moving in with the pressure in his pants teasing her tummy? This isn’t the time to be making commitments and living arrangements. “I would, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“’Cause of what your folks’ll say?”
Bingo. Her stomach clenched at the unwanted reminder. “I never thanked you for coming to my rescue last night, did I? And then putting you through my parents’ wrath today.”
“Being a cop for so long, I’ve witnessed more than enough domestic disputes. I felt bad they ganged up on you. I can understand overprotective parenting, but you’re an adult. You’re not cheating on your husband. You haven’t abandoned your children. In fact, all I see is a good woman trying to make a place in the world for herself and her kids. What more do they expect from you?”
“They want me to live life by their rules. They never got over me eloping with Victor. I knew they wouldn’t’ve approved of me getting married so young to someone they didn’t even know. Then I got pregnant, and that made everything harder. When we divorced, I didn’t tell my folks until after the fact, so in their minds I’m just a sneaky liar. They don’t realize how hard it is to talk to them sometimes. I didn’t have the guts to tell ’em the truth. What can I say? I’m just a chicken.”
“No. You’re not.” Tristan’s eyes locked on Joy’s as he swayed her in his arms, still holding her hands hostage above her backside, not giving her any way to avoid the full force of his attention. “Sounds to me like you’re a people pleaser. Worried what others think. What they’re gonna say. How they’re gonna react. No matter how tough you try to be, I can see it on your face…the hurt…the pain. You gotta do what makes you happy, sunshine. Life ain’t worth living if you don’t live the life you want. For yourself. And your kids.”
Joy blinked; it was the only way to escape the brutal honesty of Tristan’s words. Thank God a lump thickened in her throat, otherwise she might argue he was wrong, when in actuality the man was a gazillion percent right. Everything he said took her therapist months to conclude. How could he know her so well in such a short time? Was she really that transparent? “Maybe one day, after we’ve dated for a respectable length of time.”
“Who determines what’s respectable? Your parents? Just remember, sometimes one day never happens.” His wise, fatherly tone made Joy doubt her uncertainties. “You deserve to spend your time with people who love you unconditionally, not people who want you to fulfill all their conditions.”
Joy cringed at the word. “Don’t…don’t use that four-letter word. Pick any word other than love.” She spat it out like fuzz on her tongue.
“Okay…I get it.” He snickered, seeming unoffended. “It’s too soon for definitives. Normally I would agree with you. The word just slipped out—not that the sincerity isn’t there. I wouldn’t have asked you to move in if I didn’t feel something for you. Something more than wanting to have a good time.”
“No…I’m sorry. I just have a hard time hearing that word directed at me.”
Tristan released her wrists only to wrap his arms around her shoulders, pressing her head to his chest as he spoke against her hair. “If you don’t think you and the boys’ll be happy here then—no hard feelings—by all means, I’ll help you find a more suitable place. It won’t change how I feel about you. Although my gut tells me you already like it here, just as much as Rex.”
“I do, but…” She curled her arms around his hips and hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “It’s not that I don’t agree with everything you said…”
“But, what, sunshine?” He lifted her chin, angling her face toward him so her eyes couldn’t lie. “If I’m wrong, then tell me. If I’m right, then stay. Don’t worry about what anyone says. Your folks. Your ex. I’m sure your boys’ll get used it. If anyone asks why we’re moving so fast, just tell ’em we’re old friends from a previous life. Or don’t say anything all. What does it matter as long as you’re happy? Tell me the truth…” He dropped kisses across her temple. “Do I make you happy?”
Joy melted into the warmth of Tristan’s embrace. His rapid heart pounded beneath his sweatshirt as quick as her own. He made her feel…everything. Above all, he made her feel safe. “Yes. You make me happy. Being here, with you, makes me happy.”
“Then stay.”
His tender tone soothed her aching soul. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is.” He chuckled. “Just don’t leave. Ever…” His mouth teased hers.
“Ohhh, Tristan…” she gasped, under his spell.
“Less debating,” he murmured, “More kissing. Maybe it’ll convince you I know what I’m talkin’ about.”
Conjoined at the lips, still wrapped in each other’s arms, Tristan inched forward, forcing Joy to walk backward until her calves touched the hard edge of something solid. He nudged her, and she tipped back; her cushioned tush made a soft landing on the staircase, and he dropped to his knees one step below.
Without breaking the kiss, they crawled up the staircase like an octopus in a frenzy. When they reached the first floor, he scooped her up and carried her to his room, where he dropped her on the bed with a bounce.
In the heat of the moment, Tristan was a record-breaking rodeo cowboy, peeling off the clothes she borrowed from him, never taking his mouth off her skin. It happened so fast, but it felt so right… She never wanted to leave. Tristan’s right about everything. Soft swipes of his flat tongue had her grasping tufts of his silken hair, steering him toward her pearl of pleasure, not that he needed any assistance finding the sensitive spot. The multi-talented Mr. Right happened to be a master at the art of oral foreplay—something Joy lived without during her marriage. The strange and powerful magic of Tristan’s eager mouth recharged the dying battery of her lonesome libido.
Thank God he was the one and only one-night stand on her sexual resume. What luck to have found him first. She needed this…needed him. Needed to feel important. Welcome. And that forbidden word…loved.
Wait—what happened to reclaiming her independence? Falling for Tristan wasn’t part of the original plan, but he truly was a Casanova—saying all the right words, making all the right moves, giving her all the right feelings. If only her heart and ego weren’t damaged goods.
Why couldn’t I have met him before Victor?
No—that’s terrible. If I hadn’t met Victor I wouldn’t have my two beautiful boys…who want nothing to do with me. Joy moaned, desperate to shove aside the depressing thoughts as she strained to keep her attention on Tristan’s lavish affection.
Maybe the boys’ll like him. Maybe they’ll want to be with me again, like they had when they were babies, if I found them a suitable stepfather.
Stepfather? Don’t get ahead of yourself.
While his tongue swirled against her skin, her mind was a neurotic circus. Faces of her boys, her parents, her ex, his daughter flooded Joy’s conscience, so she slammed the mental door, kicking the maddening mob out of her head. Sayonara. Leave her alone to concentrate on Tristan, his magnificent mouth, his nimble fingers which pressed all the right buttons, especially the one deep inside, making her scream for more.
Sweet Lord…she could get used to this undivided attention.
Joy gripped the blanket to ground herself while he drove her to the edge, one-handed. Ride ’em, cowboy. She squeezed her eyes, gritted her teeth. Yes, yes, yes. The overwhelming wave crashed Joy’s consciousness, catapulting her into an endless lust-laden sea. Once she ceased writhing in pleasure-pain, she drifted with the blissful tide, floating on and on and on…forever.
Tristan parked his fully dressed frame beside her on the mattress, then smoothed away the strands of hair clinging to her cheek. “So?” He leaned over her, blocking her view of the spinning ceiling. “Did’ja like that?” His face beamed with satisfaction and a smug smile teased his lips.
Laying there recuperating, all she could do was breathe and blink as the haze cleared from her brain. Like it? She would have said she loved it, but after making a huge fuss over the little word, she gave a lazy nod instead. “Mmm hmm.”
“Good to know. Think you can handle the real deal?” He wagged his brows.
Joy slid a weak hand down his torso until she reached the prize in his pants, sizing up the generous girth under the denim. “Is this rocket in your pocket ready for lift off?”
His confident expression melted into a heavy-lidded, drunken grin. “Ready when you are, sunshine.” He rolled over, rummaged through the nightstand drawer, and pulled out a carton as big as a tissue box. “Economy size.” Tristan held it up proudly, grinning as innocent as the devil in a halo. “They were on sale. I just spent all my cash on a new car, so I gotta budget what’s left of my money.” He winked. “Plus, with one new sibling on the way, I figured your boys have enough to handle. We don’t want to steal Victor and his fiancée’s thunder. They’ll think we’re just tryin’ to show ’em up with an even cuter kid. Then your folks’ll get all crazy, trying to control everything. Besides, we’re young enough, we have plenty of time to make a baby.”
Scratching her head, his train of thought added to her dizziness. “You talk too much, ya know that?”
“And you get me horny too much.” He adjusted the inseam of his jeans for proof.
Joy pressed a firm palm to his broad chest as if it were enough to hold back this big bear of a man. “You’re sure this just isn’t about sex?”
Tristan circled her wrist with one hand and wove his between hers. “It’s about kissing you goodnight. And your hair spread across my chest in the morning. About washing each other’s backs in the shower. It’s everything. Sex is a bonus. The benefit of being your soulmate.”
“Soulmate?” Joy almost choked.
“Of course. Dontcha believe in soulmates?”
She shrugged, downplaying her curiosity in his theory.
“Don’t tell me your ex-husband ruined that for you too?” He shook his head in disbelief then balled his fist, mumbling, “First Santa, now soulmates. Geez, what I’d like to do to that guy.”
Sure, Joy felt something out of the ordinary for Tristan, but did it qualify as soulmates? She didn’t know. “What do you consider a soulmate?”
“A soulmate is…” His gaze searched the ceiling as if the answer hovered somewhere above and beyond, and his smile brightened. “That one person who’s your perfect fit.”
“Was Stacy yours?” Her chest tightened anticipating his response.
“I thought so, at one time. But we were different people way back when.” Tristan leaned on the mountain of pillows against the headboard and pulled Joy into the crook of his arm. “How ’bout Victor?”
“No. Not at all.” She gazed into his eyes, gauging his reaction, hoping anything she said wouldn’t sound too stupid as she let the truth fly. “I was lonely. All my friends in college were engaged, planning graduation-weddings. Victor happened to be in the right place at the right time. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”
“So he really wasn’t your soulmate, huh?” A strange grin twitched on his lips that made her sit up, wanting to know why.
“Does that sound funny to you?”
“Of course not. I’m just glad he’s not your soulmate, ’cause that leaves the position open for someone else. Like me.”
“I’m not looking for a soulmate.”
“That’s too bad. You already found him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just know.” He brought her palm to his heart. “In here.” Then with his index finger, he traced a line from the tip of her nose, down her throat, stopping at her cleavage, stroking the space between her breasts. “All that feel-good magical stuff…it lives right in here. In your heart. Along with hope. Dreams. Wishes. Happiness. And that dreaded L-word you don’t wanna hear.” He glided his finger back up the trail and tilted her chin to see into her eyes. “Soulmates, too.”
“It’s pretty crowded in there.”
“You’d be surprised how much can fit.”
“Maybe.” Who am I kidding? Tristan was right on all accounts, so why was she resisting? “I guess.”
“No maybe. No guessing. Either you feel it or you don’t. I know how I feel. And since you’re here, laying on my bed, in my arms, in your birthday suit, you must feel it too.”
It was too soon to assign words to her jumbled emotions. “I don’t know what I feel. I just know I don’t want to be anywhere else than here…with you.”
Tristan unleashed a pent-up sigh of relief. “That’s all I wanted to hear.” He sprang off the bed and kicked off his pants, yanked the T-shirt over his head. Standing there, between Joy and the bedroom door, light spilled in from the hallway, setting his profile aglow, from his tousled hair to his jutting erection.
I do that to him. It was almost hard to believe… “Wow,” she whispered at the glorious sight of his arousal.
Even on the best day of her marriage, she had to work Victor to his full length with her hands and mouth before his little soldier stood at attention. However Tristan’s willing warrior seemed eager to see her.
When he dropped one knee on the mattress, putting that ginormous joystick within reach, Joy couldn’t resist stroking him from root to tip, making him suck in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.
He likes it.
She did, too. He was softer than a rose petal. Thick and hot between her fingers. She stroked him again, hoping for the same subtle approval. “Does that feel good?”
“Oh, yeah…I love your hands on my body.” He groaned and pushed his pelvis toward her. “But—don’t take this the wrong way, sunshine—my head is pounding.”
“I know. I can feel it.” She gave him a gentle squeeze, and it throbbed in her palm.
“I’m not talking ’bout that one. This headache’s been coming on all day.”
As he fell onto the bed, Joy rolled aside to give him her warm space. “We don’t have to do this. Just say so, and I’ll stop.”
“That’s it—I don’t want you to stop.”
“Wanna take two aspirins and wait a little bit? See if it goes away?”
“It’s probably allergies kicking in. Keep doin’ what you’re doin’. You’re taking my mind off the pain.”
“If my hands make you feel better, maybe my mouth would be like medicine.”
Wide-eyed, Tristan nodded. “Yes, please…”
Joy crawled between his legs, and with her fingers wrapped around the length, she angled him toward her lips as she lowered her face, taking him in her mouth.
“Awww, God. Yeah. That’s it.” He clenched her hair, easing the burden off her neck as she bobbed. “Let’s play doctor more often.”
The man was so easy to satisfy. Nothing at all like the exhausting effort to work her ex into an unusable pencil stub. She gave Tristan her all, anticipating his volcanic eruption, but he nudged her aside instead.
“Stop. I don’t wanna finish like this. Dontcha—ah, ah, ah…” He fought a back a sneeze but lost. “Dontcha wanna come together?”
His glassy eyes and rosy nose were enough to make a swift diagnosis. “I’ll take a rain check when you’re feeling better.”
“If you gimme a minute I’m sure I’ll get my second wind.” He sniffled.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you when I’m ready to collect.” Joy shivered. It was too mild to put on the heat yet too chilly without the covers.
“Grab a T-shirt.” He jutted his chin toward the tall dresser of five drawers.
She started in the middle but it was filled to capacity with socks.
Tristan aimed his thumb toward the ceiling. “Up.”
In the next drawer was a stash of boxer-briefs, so she slipped into a pair more comfy than a thong.
“T-t-top.” He struggled with the word as a trio of sneezes jolted him upright, reaching for a tissue box on the nightstand.
“I think it’s time to do laundry. You’re running low.” As she counted three undershirts left in the drawer, her fingers brushed something cool…hard…metallic? “I’ll throw in a load of whi—” A glimmer caught her curious eye. Handcuffs—just like the ones they sell in Violet’s Valise Sextra-Special Online Store. Pushing the shirts aside, she uncovered a pistol too. It was no secret the man was a cop on-leave, but she hadn’t expected to find this stuff. Joy left the gun, untouched, and pulled out the cuffs. “Well, well, well…” Nodding, smiling, she turned to show him what she’d uncovered.
“Well, what?” He blew his nose like a trumpet. “Oh. No.”
“Ooh, yeah…” She sauntered toward the bed, holding steel circles to her bare breasts like a bikini top. “Can we play with them one day? When you’re feeling better?”
“No way.” He buried his face in a fist full of fresh tissues as he caught another round of sneezes.
“Have you ever used them foolin’ around?”
“Never.”
“I find that hard to believe, Officer Casanova,” she teased, working all her curves. “Bondage is the latest craze with all the play-date mothers ever since that book started circulating.”
“I wouldn’t know. Stacy didn’t do play-dates. And she wasn’t into sex games. W-w-why?” He sneezed. “Are you?” A devilish smile curled his lips.
Her ex might have been a great philanderer, but he’d been nothing more than a vanilla-lover to Joy. And with his bite-sized physique, being man-handled never crossed her mind. “I dunno. I never tried it before either. And I wouldn’t’ve trusted Victor enough to lock me up.”
His interest piqued, Tristan propped his back higher against the pillows. “You’re saying you trust me enough?”
“Maybe. I mean…if we’re really soulmates like you say then I have nothing to worry about. Do I?”
He scratched the back of his head as if contemplating the right answer. “Look, they aren’t for sex games, sunshine. Do you know how many perps wore these cuffs? Get ’em away from your skin. Geez. They ought to be sterilized first.” He snatched them from her hand.
“So you would be willing to use them on me?”
“You’re serious.” He arched a suspicious brow. “You really want me to put you in handcuffs?”
“Yep.” She crawled between his legs, lowered her face to his crotch, and put her Jockey-clad tush high in the air, wiggling it for effect. “Then I want you to get behind me and—”
Tristan slipped out from under her and jumped to his feet. “Joy, I appreciate your untapped kinky side. We’ll go to the store to get all the props you want. Cuffs. A vibrator. Nipple clips. Whatever you like. Just don’t play with these.” He put the handcuffs back in their place, deflating the erotic mood.
“Okay. Fine. I was just kidding anyway,” Joy lied. She rolled off the bed to slip on the T-shirt when Tristan captured her wrists from behind.
“See. Not a very comfortable position, is it? Now imagine those heavy steel cuffs.” His inescapable grasp mimicked the real deal as he induced a miniscule taste of pain that made her damp between the thighs.
Being handled by this he-man had her insides hot and tingly. A groan of wanton pleasure squeaked from her throat. “I am.”
“This isn’t too rough for you?” In a fluid motion, he spun her while maintaining his grip. Face to face, with fingers laced behind her back, the vulnerable position accentuated the arch of her spine, pressing the tips of her breasts against his chest. “You really want it like this?”
Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and moisture clouded her vision of the outlandish fantasy she craved. “I do.”
“Seriously, Joy. Are you messin’ with me? ’Cause I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Tristan would never hurt her; she was certain of it. Inching up on her toes to reach his lips, he met her halfway in a potent kiss before he trailed down her neck to nibble one tender bud then the other. At the mercy of his mouth, she gasped, “Please.”
“I’m pretty sure I can have my way with you without cuffs.” He chuckled.
“True. But it’s more than that.”
“Can’t I just tie you up with a rope?”
“You have any?” Her voice quivered with new hope.
“Not within arms’ reach. But I have a belt. How ’bout a tie? Will that work?”
“It’s not about being tied up with a rope, or a belt, or a tie. I saw the cuffs and…and it turned me on, that’s all. Let’s just forget it.” She wriggled away then pulled the T-shirt over her head.
“You sure?” Tristan sneezed and yawned in one awkward motion. He rubbed his face like giving his eye sockets a massage and plopped backward on the bed with a painful grunt.
“You really don’t feel well, do you?” Joy pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. How could she have misread his body heat? “You have a fever.”
“See what you do to me?” He grinned, but his glassy eyes were no joke.
“No, really—get some rest. No more foolin’ around until you’re better. I’ll make you some tea.” She wrapped the blanket around him like a big baby in a cocoon.
It seemed like ages since she tucked in her boys. She’d forgot how much she missed it. Missed them. Her babies would be all grown one day and the opportunity to make memories will be gone.
But they didn’t want her; they told her so. They wanted their father. It didn’t help dwelling on it, but how was she supposed to avoid it? Joy blinked back a tear before it could fall.
“I know you don’t want to hear this”—Tristan’s lips twitched at the corners as he grabbed her hand before she could escape, pulling her back into the moment—“’cause you think love is a dirty word. But I just gotta say it—I love you, Joy. I really do. Don’t look so sad because I won’t let you play with my handcuffs. I’ll tie you up some other time if that’s what you want. All day and night—like my little concubine—if that’ll make you happy. My own little Princess Leia in a dog collar and a golden bikini. Tie you up. Tie you down. I just want you to be happy.”
As silly and eccentric as his offer sounded, it soothed the sting of his refusal and the rejection from her boys. For a moment she forgot her tears, and let a smile slip from under her frown. “Promise?”
“Sure. I promise.”