Under the Table Page 14

  Zoey tiptoed over to the dining room door and tentatively placed her ear to the tiny crack available. The only sounds she could make out were muffled voices in quiet conversation. She held her breath to try and get a better listen when the voices became more hushed. She did everything short of pushing at the door to get a better view. Being busted twice in one day was more than she thought she could handle.

  “That did not go well,” he said from behind her. Zoey instantly straightened back up, caught red-handed when he came back into the kitchen through the other door. Busted anyway. At this point, what did it matter?

  “I would say not.” No point in mincing words either.

  “Kristin called it a night. I should’ve listened to you. Turns out hiding a woman in your kitchen looks sketchy to the one in the dining room,” he said with a smirk. It was odd, given the gravity of the statement.

  “Who knew? Oh yeah, I did.” Gloating was wrong, especially when secretly elated. He didn’t appear too devastated. “You don’t look too worse for wear.”

  “It wasn’t a total loss. She left me with some insight.”

  “Is that the reason for the grin?”

  “Very astute. Kristin prides herself on being astute too. She remembered you from the first time she was here. She said when she caught us, we had the kind of guilt on our faces that was disproportionate to the situation. She told me we should never play poker with anyone but each other.”

  “That’s probably solid advice too. I’m guessing your love connection was just cut off at the knees?”

  “Turns out we both had ulterior motives. It’s not that you were here that she took issue with, it was the plot to keep you out of sight. According to Kristin, I did this to get your attention, maybe make you jealous. She wasn’t all that hurt. She thought I was attractive enough to go along with dating me. If she managed to get me to take the offer her company tendered, it would be a real coup. And she’d get a chance to upstage her obnoxious boss. She is hardly heartbroken. I kept telling her that you and I were just friends, but she wasn’t convinced. And I think she may be right. Once again, I did it all wrong. I really am a hopeless case. I’m so sorry I made you a part of this. You’re a much better friend than I deserve. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go drown in a bottle of chardonnay before I embarrass you, or myself, any further.”

  Tristan left the kitchen before Zoey could think of the right words to say. That Kristin was only partially correct. All three of them had ulterior motives, but currently, only two of them had come clean. Zoey didn’t want to leave any room for any further misunderstandings when it came to Tristan. She started to untie, then took off her apron.

  Chapter 18

  Zoey was waiting for Tristan when he came back into the kitchen. He didn’t appear drunk and wasn’t holding any wine bottles, but he had removed his jacket and tie. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone. If she wasn’t so nervous, she may have gotten a better laugh out of his initial look after he stopped short. It was one of complete and utter astonishment.

  “I wanted to make sure you were all right,” she said casually, watching him struggle to keep eye contact. Then she giggled.

  “Did you?” he replied with widening eyes that were incapable of tearing themselves away from her. “At this moment, I have to confess, I don’t know what I am.”

  Zoey had been busy while he was indisposed. A no-holds-barred, last-ditch effort to force his hand into admitting how he felt or telling her once and for all that he felt nothing. She had stripped down to bare skin, and the only thing standing between him and the full monty was the strategically placed apron she had put back on. She leaned against the counter, the granite making contact on her bare back like ice on her hot skin, and cocked a hip, generating a provocative sway in the apron’s skirt.

  “How about aroused?” Zoey made an exaggerated move to double-check that the apron bib top was covering her nipples by sensually running her hands along the sides of her breasts to underneath them. Then she gave them a slight push up. She peered up at him with feigned innocence from beneath long lashes. “Aroused would be good.”

  “That works.” Tristan breathed, his gaze following the slow movement of her hands.

  He had gotten bolder with taking her all in. His eyes alone were generating heat. She brazenly let her gaze settle on the zipper of his pants. Nope, not quite excited enough. She slowly turned around and looked back over her shoulder.

  His eyes were riveted on her round, full, bare bottom.

  “How about now?” she asked, giving her booty a shake.

  His pants and what was in them finally got with the program and gave the proper response. The look on his face left her wondering if she may have done too much too soon and he was going to take her right there, bent over the kitchen counter.

  “I’ve never been good at taking a hint.” He mustered the strength to look up and meet her gaze. “But this one is hard to miss.”

  She turned her head around to the wall again and ever so slowly pulled at the bow tied at the small of her back until she felt it give way. Then she turned to face him, aware that the now-untethered apron was rewarding him with another quick glimpse, this time from the front.

  “I thought it was time that I stopped being stupid and told you how I really felt about you, but I was having trouble finding the right words.”

  “Message received,” Tristan said, his hands moving to the front of his shirt.

  It was right about then that the tide turned and Zoey began to lose her advantage. A moment ago, his eyes were smiling. Now there was nothing but smolder.

  “I like my guests to feel comfortable,” he said, his hands moving to his shirt. He began to work the third button, which was still fastened.

  “Well, you were raised in the hospitality business,” she teased, her eyes now glued to his hands moving on to the next button down.

  “One of us here is completely overdressed,” he said, and another button was released.

  “Guess we better fix that.” She jokingly made like she was going to remove the apron but only pulled the skirt of it up to her thighs. She heard his sudden intake of air and then let it drop to her knees again. None of it stopped him from his task, but he did skip the last button and pulled the shirt over his head, taking his undershirt with it. She could only stare at his chiseled upper body and give a quick prayer of thanks that breathing was an involuntary act.

  “You are a very naughty girl.” He had gotten comfortable, playful. He had been worth the wait. “Not to mention you could catch your death of cold and I wish I was in my leather pants.”

  “I thought we were taking clothes off, not putting them on.” Her voice took on a throaty tone. He began taking steps to close the distance between them.

  When he reached her, he watched his own hand brush his knuckles along the side of her breast. She heard her own gasp, when his hand went under the apron to cup her full breast, his thumb toying with the now-tight little bud in the center. He gave her nipple a slight pinch and Zoey leaned back against the counter, her hands grabbing onto the sinewy arms when she felt the blood rush to her head.

  “I hope this isn’t the only time we do this.” His lips were getting closer, already starting to pucker. “Every fantasy I had about you included taking your clothes off.”

  He pressed his lips to hers while his free hand moved to her other breast. He cared. Had fantasized about her. All the needlessly wasted time to make up for. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to let her tongue brush along his bottom lip. It was all the encouragement he needed to plunder her mouth, and his tongue delved inside to steal what was left of her breath away. His hard sex pressed through his now-inconvenient pants and against her. She shifted to grind against him, starting to shake with need. His hand traveled lower beneath the apron, over her rib cage, and down her hip. His hand splayed across her stomach and then went lower. He started her wiggling when a thick nimble finger slipped inside her. She arche
d her back and tore her mouth from his to gasp for air when a second finger joined in the gentle massaging that set all her nerve endings to pulsate.

  “Zoey, please tell me this isn’t some kind of joke.” He groaned as his lips grazed past her ear on into her neck and his fingers returned to her hip, freeing her from his exquisite torture. “Please tell me this isn’t my punishment for what I made you do tonight.”

  She held his head in her hands, and they both stilled.

  “I don’t want to punish you and I don’t want to tease you. I want to feel you. All of you. Inside me.”

  Without another word, he took her hand and they raced down the hallway to his bedroom.

  “I would carry you,” he said halfway to their final destination, “but I feel weak in the knees.”

  “Then we’re even. In every fantasy I’ve had about you, you picked me up and whisked me away.”

  “Next time,” he said, stopping short and pulling her to him then kissing her hard.

  Upon reaching the bedroom, he released the clip that held her hair back, then pulled at the last remaining apron tie. Zoey rushed to unzipper his pants while they were still in motion to reach the bed. Tristan impatiently kicked off his remaining clothing and tumbled them both back onto the crisp, clean comforter. She longed to touch every part of him.

  His lack of experience was easily made up for by his hunger. He took his time worshipping every inch of her. She could feel him smiling up against all her most sensitive spots as he kissed them, the back of her neck, along her rib cage, and behind her knees. She was soon engulfed in all-encompassing lust. Zoey wanted them to take their time, make the connection meaningful for both of them. But she was losing that battle, touch by skin-scorching touch. His kiss returned to her lips and she felt his hardness, inches away from her throbbing core.

  “Condom,” she murmured into his neck as her fingernails raked lightly down his back.

  “Right,” he growled while pushing himself off the bed. “Right, right right.”

  “Please tell me you have one.” She sighed, missing his touch already.

  “I don’t only have one,” he said while sprinting to the bathroom, his backside a glorious feast for her heavily lidded eyes. “I have a box of them.”

  “Check the expiration date!” Zoey called after him.

  “They’re good,” he replied, rushing to jump back on the bed. “I celebrate New Year’s with a fresh box.”

  If Zoey had her way, he’d be needing a new box by the end of the week, not December.

  Together they fumbled and giggled their way through putting the condom on. He shivered with her touch and he hissed through clenched teeth as she rolled the latex to his hilt and ended the exercise with a nip at his belly.

  “I can’t hold back much longer,” he ground out.

  “I don’t want you to.” She panted as he pushed her down onto the bed, and kissed her all the way back to the pillows, where her head came to rest.

  She opened herself to him and he thrust himself deep inside her. Both their worlds went still. Tristan hovered over her, staring down at her intently.

  “Am I doing something wrong?” Zoey asked, grabbing onto his arms and wriggling beneath him.

  “I want to remember you like this forever.”

  There wasn’t a single part of her that didn’t feel the impact of the heartfelt wonderment written on his face. The affection in his voice, the passion in his eyes. She could already feel herself starting to tingle, in the deepest recesses of her soul.

  Then she wrapped a leg around him and smiled.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. They began a different kind of dance. The kind that left her reeling.

  Chapter 19

  Several condoms and a surprisingly refreshing sleep later, Zoey was awakened to the scent of coffee. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusted to the daylight, and found Tristan sitting on the bed beside her, a steaming mug in his hand. He had showered and thrown on a pair of shorts but nothing else. He was as sexy in the light of day as he was the night before.

  “Did I overstay my welcome?” she asked, snuggling under the covers, and the coffee smell mixed with the intoxicating scent of him on her pillow. She ran her tongue over her teeth and resisted the urge to dash off to his bathroom to brush her teeth with toothpaste and her finger.

  “Not at all,” he replied, taking a sip out of the mug. “I was taking a minute to enjoy watching you sleep.”

  If anyone else had said that to her, it might’ve sounded creepy. But Tristan was just basking in the same afterglow she was also feeling. Never before had Zoey been treated to lovemaking that was completely about her. Her comfort, her desire, her pleasure. All his enjoyment was derived from watching and taking part in hers. It took intimacy to a whole new level. Her orgasms were shattering and he was left shuddering for minutes after his. The memory alone was enough to set her skin ablaze all over again. For him, it was new and amazing, and she found herself getting caught up in it. She wanted him to feel appreciated too. It wasn’t just sex with Tristan. It was lovemaking, in every sense of the word. She couldn’t remember the last time it all felt so real.

  “When I woke up and saw you next to me I couldn’t believe it. Part of me thought it was a dream.”

  “I must look a wreck,” she said, sitting up and running a hand through her tousled hair. Muscles that had long gone unused voiced protest. She gingerly wrapped the sheets halfway around her. It wasn’t something she did out of modesty, but she knew that tone of his voice. A thorough sexing was sure to follow. He may have time he wanted to make up for, but she needed to try and ensure that they rested for a while. She needed to build up some stamina. She eyed his coffee, and without saying a word, Tristan held out his mug.

  Zoey wrapped both hands around the cup and blew at the hot brew within it. Tristan reached out and tucked a wayward lock of her hair behind her ear. Then he brushed his hand across her cheek and cupped her face, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

  “You are so beautiful,” he told her tenderly, each word perfectly enunciated, “in every way.”

  He sounded sincere, which only served to embarrass her. False flattery she could handle. There was nothing false about Tristan.

  “I think you need this more than I do.” She thrust the coffee back in his direction, trying to laugh the statement off.

  “Not before you have some.” He smiled, then looked serious. “Unless you want a cup of your own?”

  “Now we’re going to worry about swapping germs? I think that ship has sailed.” Zoey giggled and brought the cup to her mouth. She peered at him from above the rim and marveled. He liked his coffee the exact same way she did, not too light, not too sweet.

  “Any regrets this morning?” Tristan asked, again in all seriousness.

  “Just that I wish I hadn’t ditched my yoga when I moved up here,” she responded, blushing. “You?”

  “One big one. All the time I wasted fighting how I felt about you. It’s probably time I come clean about Kristin as well. I only asked her out to try and get you out of my head.”

  “And if I didn’t feel so honor bound to get through this year before insisting on my divorce, I would’ve made my feelings known a lot sooner too.”

  Silence lingered. She had just introduced the elephant in the room. But pretending Derek didn’t exist wasn’t going to make him go away. The timing, however, after their first night together, was awful. Zoey was new at this too.

  “Regret is a wasted emotion.” She handed the coffee back to him, followed by winding her hand around his neck and pulling him in for a long, lingering kiss. Her morning rituals could wait. He had already made her take leave of all her senses, and she was more than willing to throw morning mouth slime onto the pile. His breath was sweet and fresh and she couldn’t care less. His fingertips traced up along her spine and weaved into her hair. He shifted and pulled her closer to him. His kiss deepened, had turned greedy in the need to plunder her mouth. Screw resting and sta
mina building. Whenever his lips touched hers, it triggered her want for more of him. All of him.

  Suddenly, to her dismay, he pulled away.

  “Hold tight,” he said, reaching for the phone. “I have to cancel my tee time.”

  Her smile grew wide. He wanted to cancel playing golf to play with her. Maybe she had two regrets, starting something she herself wasn’t sure she felt up to finishing.

  “Don’t cancel,” she said, halting him in middial. She wanted to see him doing what he loved. She wanted to send the clear message that if it was something that was important to him, then it was important to her too. It wasn’t all about her, no matter how much he was willing to prove otherwise. Zoey wanted to give back.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” Tristan protested.

  “I second that! I want to come with you.”

  “You want to play golf with me?”

  “Well, I don’t know about playing . . . but I’d be more than willing to try and learn.” More like watch you, a correction she kept to herself. And see what the maximum speed of a golf cart was.

  He looked so genuinely excited, her eyes began to glisten.

  “I would love that,” he said.

  “Sure, you say that now. Let’s see how you feel when eighteen holes takes eighteen hours.”

  “I have all the time in the world.” He winked at her and gave her knee a squeeze. “I’ll let you shower. We leave in thirty minutes.”

  * * *

  Their car called to take them to the golf course but had to wait an extra fifteen minutes when Zoey became infatuated with Tristan’s shower. It was nothing like the shower in Ruth’s apartment. For the last eleven months, she had stood under the calcium-coated two-output showerhead that spit water of various temperatures ranging from icy to scalding. Zoey hadn’t given it much thought until she experienced the luxuriousness that was this shower. Not only was it as big as some apartments, but it also had a giant, square showerhead that provided sheets of rain at a stable temperature of her choosing. She shamelessly indulged in a twenty-minute shower, one that only could’ve gotten better if Tristan had joined her. When she finally emerged from the bedroom, he was dressed in another goofy outfit. She was in her clothes from the night before, a true crime, given how clean she was.