Tristan & Danika Book 3 - Page 61

“We don’t need to go there, Danika.  Who I’ve been with, who you’ve been with, in the lost years.  I don’t have the stomach for it.”

“I was just surprised…I mean, how did I never know that you preferred huge, fake b.o.o.bs.  I’m surprised you never tried to talk me into getting some.”

He pushed back from me until he was sitting up, feet over the side of the bed, his hip still wedged high between my legs.

I started to push myself away, but he stilled me with one hard hand on my hip.

“You want to do this?  Fine, but you’re starting.”  His voice was resigned and more than a touch resentful.  “How long had it been since you’d f**ked Andrew before we were together at the ranch?”

I flinched at the crude language, feeling somehow ashamed when I shouldn’t have.  Logically, I knew that.  But being here, with him and talking about how I’d shared my body with some other man made me look at it in a way I never had before.  Made me compare it to the awful way I felt when I thought about who he’d been with.

“How long, Danika?  How many weeks, or was it days before you moved from his d.i.c.k to mine?”

That was too much, and I pushed away, wrenching out of his hand, turning until I was on my knees on the bed, intending to leave.

His chest covered my back, pinning me in place before I got far.  “I’m sorry.  That was an a.s.s**le thing to say.  As you can see, this is a touchy subject for me.  I don’t prefer huge, fake t.i.ts, if that’s what you were asking.  I’ve only had what I preferred with one person, and that was you, Danika.  I wasn’t with her because I liked her b.o.o.bs.  I was lonely, and she was a friend, okay?  There’s not much more to it than that, and I’m sorry I asked about Andrew.  Truth be told, I don’t want to know about you and him.  Just saying his name makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

I shut my eyes when I told him, “I broke up with Andrew long before the ranch.  Several months, actually.  We were just friends at the time.  There was no overlap.  Not even close.”

He didn’t answer with words, but his breath grew ragged as he moved tight against me.  I felt him working at his fly between us.

“At the wedding, you made me think you were still together,” he accused, but there was no heat in it.  Even without seeing his face, I knew he felt nothing but relief at the revelation.

“I know.  I’m sorry.  I was using that to keep you at a distance.”

He barked out a laugh as his hands pushed my skirt up, yanking my panties down.  “How did that work out for you?”

I didn’t answer right away, because he was pus.h.i.+ng his c**k into me from behind.  I braced myself on my hands and knees as he worked himself in hard, my eyes trying to roll up into my head with the pure sinking pleasure of it.

“Not well,” I finally admitted on a gasp, when he’d buried himself to the hilt.

His only response was to slowly glide out of me, then thrust back in hard.

I whimpered, arching my back.

“This right here,” he growled, pulling slowly back out.  “This is what I love.”  One of his hands palmed my br**sts and he started to move in earnest, jerking in an out in a rough rhythm.  “This is what I crave, what I need.  This, sweetheart, is what I prefer.”

He gripped my hips, lifting them so all of the weight was off my knee, and began to work me hard.

I lowered myself to my elbows, reached a hand down and felt for him.  His s.c.r.o.t.u.m was slapping into me with every hard thrust, and I palmed him, cupping, scoring my nails on him lightly.  I felt them tighten up when he started to come, and lowered the arm still bearing weight, going facedown into the bed so I could cup him with one hand, and rub my cl*t with the other.

He was still thrusting, deep in the throes, when I caught up to him, eyes rolling back in my head.

In more ways than one, I was done for.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Lana and I had hit it off during James and Bianca’s wedding weekend, but as she lived in Maui, I didn’t get to see too much of her, though we’d met for lunch twice when she’d been to town on business.  The last time, she’d revealed that she was over four months pregnant, though she was barely showing.  I chalked that up to supermodel genes.

I was so happy for her and excited to hear that Bianca was throwing her an impromptu baby shower the next time she came to Vegas for business.

I was surprised to learn from Bianca it was happening that very weekend, as Lana had decided to stop traveling from her island home for the rest of the pregnancy, since it was wearing on her.

Another surprise was that it was co-ed.  Of all of the men in the world I’d ever met, Akira seemed the least likely to me to enjoy a baby shower.  But what did I know?

Tristan was invited as well and wanted to carpool to it, but I shut that down right away.  I didn’t know what exactly was going on with us, and it would be awkward enough if it all fell apart to our circle of friends.  There was no reason to go out of our way to advertise it now, I reasoned.  We were still taking things one day at a time.

That didn’t mean I didn’t go out of my way to look good for the party.

I wore a smooth and fluid lavender matte jersey wrap dress.  Not only did it hug every inch of my torso just so, it had a plunging neckline, and with a few swift tugs of the tie at my hip, the entire front would open.

Spectacular access, is how Tristan would describe this dress.  It was just the sort of dress that would drive him out of his mind.  I couldn’t wait for him to see it.

I knew it was dysfunctional, but I needed constant proof that he couldn’t control his need either.

Somehow, a runaway train was less Troublesome to me than a charging one.

In some respects, I’d rather if neither of us were driving this thing.

I didn’t see him right when I got to Bianca’s house, instead did a round of h.e.l.los to what was quickly evolving into my favorite crowd of people.

Bianca and Lana met and embraced me at the door, crowding me until I felt like I was being cornered by a team of Swedish bikini models.  They were both so tall, and that was before their heels.  I’d have loved to be able to sport some ridiculous platforms so I didn’t feel quite so short, but flats were my fate, so I worked them as best I could, but I did stand up straighter around these two.

I rubbed Lana’s tiny baby b.u.mp, congratulating her, feeling only the slightest twinge of pain.  I’d had a lot of time to deal with the fact that this could never be me.