368Wait For Me
Five.
All my senses awaken to the changes
And I feel alive inside my own skin
All my reasons tell just how strange it is
Coming home to a place I've always been
The last time she'd been on his bike, arms wrapped tightly around him and speeding off without a care in the world, was five years ago. They had been on their way to dinner at some hole in the wall diner where no one knew them and they could just eat and talk without people staring at him in fear or judging her for being with him.
She could remember it like it was just yesterday.
Rory glanced up at the stars as Tristan sped down the highway, neither of them wanting to go home yet and instead wanted to enjoy one of the last nights of good weather they would have before the snow started to fall. She loved winter, the magic of it, but she missed riding. She had become just as addicted to being on a bike as he had, and the winters seemed to last forever as they patiently awaited the time when they would get to fly again.
They talked about moving south a lot, somewhere where they could ride all year long. When school was becoming too much, they'd lay awake and talk about her taking a break from college, packing up the essentials and just leaving. Going wherever the road would take them, one big adventure.
At times, it was tempting.
There was no place she loved more than being on the back of his bike, her chest to his back, her arms around him as he wove through traffic.
It was home.
Home, Rory thought, looking around and realizing they were a ways away from their apartment now but her body didn't seem to realize that. She moved forward, pressing herself harder into him, her hands slipping under his jacket and finding the hot skin beneath. She felt his muscles contract under her touch and a devious smile touched her lips.
Tristan slowed at a stop light and turned his head to look at her, his own eye heating from whatever he saw in hers. Taking off again, he moved to the next lane, taking a right when the light turned green, and leading them away from town, away from civilization.
Her excitement began to build.
The start of her semester had kept her busy and Tristan was working almost non stop to the point that they hadn't had much time for each other in almost two weeks and they were both feeling it. Tonight was their first free night to just get away, and as nice as dinner and a bike ride had been - they both needed something else.
Tristan lowered his speed as they passed through a speed zone and Rory took the opportunity to move her hands lower, playing with the waistband of his jeans before dipping her fingers underneath it.
She couldn't hear him groan over the purr of the bike, but she felt the vibration of it against her chest and moved her hand lower.
He sped up then, turning down a deserted road and pulling into a small abandoned parking lot of a gas station that looked like it hadn't been open in years.
They were off the bike in a second, the thrill of being out in the open making Rory's heart race as Tristan grabbed her hand, pulling her behind the building and instantly pressing her into it.
"It's not nice to tease me when I can't do anything about it, baby." Tristan's mouth found her ear and gave it a tug as his hands moved up her shirt and covered her breasts, kneading gently.
"You love it," Rory grinned against his lips when they met hers.
He pulled back for a moment, his hands stilling and his eyes meeting hers, the blue so vivid even in the dark night, swirling with so much emotion. "I love you."
She could still hear his voice as he said it, so sure, so honest. He didn't say it much, he was more of one to show it, so in the times when the words slipped past his lips, they meant so much more.
It had been one of their happiest moments that night. Coming together behind the gas station and then barely making it home before they were doing it all again.
It was a memory she thought she'd always cherish, but one that she hated now. Hated how perfect that night had been, how great their life had been, and how he went and ruined it by walking out on her and getting arrested just a few days later.
But most of all, as her hands rested loosely on the outside of his jacket, she hated the instinctive feeling she felt to move her hands to feel the hot skin beneath it again. His body was different now, larger, even more toned than it had been years ago. She wondered how it would feel now, under her hands, against her body, and that was something she really should not be thinking about while riding on the back of her ex-boyfriend's motorcycle after telling him to keep driving when he was only supposed to be giving her a ride home.
But she couldn't deny how perfect her body still fit into his, how comfortable it was to be riding with him after all these years. How right it was.
How it felt like home.
Tristan turned to her when he stopped at a red light, his blazing eyes finding hers and she wondered if he was thinking the same things she had been.
"You hungry?"
She could only nod. He looked hungry too, but she wasn't sure whatever diner he stopped at would sate the need that had darkened his eyes.
Did he feel it too? Was having her holding onto him affecting him just like it was her?
Rory couldn't help but smile at the thought, happy that maybe she wasn't the only one being tortured, and pressed her body closer, laying her head against his back. She felt him tense for a moment before relaxing as he continued down the road.
She stumbled a bit when she'd stepped off the bike, and she blamed it on having not been on one in so long, definitely not because she was feeling drowsy with want. Nope, definitely not that.
Tristan grabbed her hand to help her regain her balance, and she looked up to see amusement dancing over his features. He looked away as the corner of his lips turned up, as if to try and hide it. She just rolled her eyes at him and straightened her coat, starting towards the diner he'd found.
When she didn't hear his footsteps behind her, she stopped on the bottom stair leading up to the door and sent him a pointed look.
He was still standing in the spot she'd left him, hands deep in his pockets, eyes on her.
She refused to acknowledge the look, a look no amount of time would make her forget. A look that shot straight to her core. She feigned annoyance, for her own sanity, and cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly. "Are you coming?"
He grinned then, the movement sliding over his face and lighting his eyes in such a boyish way it made her catch her breath. "Just enjoying the view."
Rory's heart pounded. Biting back a smile, she turned and made her way up the last few steps and to the door, making sure to exaggerate the sway of her hips she did so. His chuckle floating up to her let her know that he'd definitely noticed her efforts.
Somewhere deep down, a voice told her she was playing a dangerous game, but she knew her limits. Flirting always came easy with them, but that's all it would be. She wasn't the same girl she was then. She had the power to resist him, no matter how charming he was.
But damn if he somehow hadn't gotten even more so than she remembered, she realized when he stopped at a table in the far corner and held a chair out for her. Rory muttered a thanks and slid into it, sliding close to the table and clearing her suddenly dry throat as he took the spot across from her.
He was dangerous, in more ways than one, but at the top of that list sat the painful reminder that he had shattered her heart into pieces. And she would never allow that to happen again.
They didn't speak when the waitress came over and took their order, or for a few moments after. Rory focused her attention on everything but looking at him, even as she felt his eyes on her, burning into her, sending flames dancing over her skin and making her yearn to feel if his touch could still do the same.
She had no doubt it could. She had seen how her body had reacted when he'd caught her hand outside.
"So," she cleared her throat, finally finding the courage to meet his gaze. "What have you been up to?"
Tristan moved his shoulders in a casual shrug, sitting back in his chair and spreading his legs out under their small table. His knee hit hers and she quickly pulled hers away, crossing it over her other one. He chuckled, bringing a hand up to run a thumb slowly over his bottom lip and Rory couldn't look away from the movement. When her eyes met his again, she didn't bother being embarrassed, and just sent him a look, letting him know she was waiting for an answer.
"A lot of catching up, helping Mike with the wedding stuff, working." His voice was deep, calming, and it washed over her in waves. She wanted to close her eyes and just listen to him talk forever. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed his voice. How hearing it now so much after not hearing it for five years was messing with her head.
"Wedding stuff definitely has a way of taking over your life," Rory chuckled, though it was quickly followed by a sigh. "I'm ecstatic for Paris and Mike, and more than happy to help, but I never realized just how much goes into it."
Their food arrived and they both started eating, Rory just a bit too eagerly but she blamed it on that dreaded jog to Paris's house that morning.
"Not gonna lie," Tristan finished off his fries and took a long drink. "I didn't realize just what I was agreeing to either. I owe Mike my life though so I'm not going to complain."
Rory stilled as she brought her coffee to her lips, and watched him over her cup. He owed Mike his life? How? She wanted to ask, wanted to know why he would use such an interesting choice of words, wanted to know why he was so indebted to Mike but figured if he wanted her to know, he'd tell her.
Her eyes moved from his face to scan the rest of him. He'd taken off his jacket, leaving him in just his shirt and she watched as the muscles flexed beneath it, memories of how those arms felt wrapped around her worming their way into their thoughts.
She decided to just give up and let them come. There was no denying the intense physical attraction was still there, she would just have to live with it. Even if it killed her.
Food. She tried to focus on her food instead. Reaching for her fries, she grabbed a couple and popped them in her mouth, chewing them longer than necessary before speaking again. "Are you excited for the bachelor party?" She decided keeping the conversation on the wedding would be safest. She licked a bit of ketchup off her thumb and then stopped when she realized his eyes were on her, watching the movement. Heat touched her cheeks and she slowly lowered her hand, but he didn't look away from her lips.
Her heart was pounding, the air around them filled with tension. Did anyone else notice it? Did they feel it? How could they not? She was two seconds away from spontaneously combusting.
"Tristan," his name whispered through her lips and seemed to break him out of whatever spell he was under. His eyes flew to hers as he sat back, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, tugging at it. He lifted his cup, downing the rest of his coffee quickly, not seeming to care that it was still hot, before clearing his throat and looking everywhere but at her.
"Bachelor party is still up in the air."
Rory's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she reached for her own cup again, gently blowing away the steam before sipping at it. "What are you talking about? It was planned months ago, a weekend in New York City."
His laugh lacked humor and she saw something flash in his eyes, something dark, before he turned to look out the window to his left. "That was the plan, until I came along. Mike refuses to have his party without his best man, and unfortunately for him, his best man can't leave state due to being a fuck up on parole."
Rory bit her lip as her hands tightened around her cup and fought the instinct to reach out and grab his hand. Anyone else would think he sounded normal, maybe a bit angry, but she knew him. Knew the sound of the hurt he was trying to mask.
"Tristan," Her voice was soft when she said his name, and his eyes found hers again. "Mike is so happy that you're able to be involved at all. Paris has told me many times." And she had, through clenched teeth. "So I'm sure he would gladly relocate his party if it means you'd get to be there."
He was silent, and other than his features ever so slightly softening at her words, you wouldn't know he had reacted at all.
They sat like that for a while, just watching each other. Every now and then, his eyes would stray from her eyes and fall to her lips, her hair, dance over her cheeks and down her neck, as if he were trying to compare the image of her now with the image he remembered.
Did he think about her? Did he think she had changed much? Did he ever think about reaching out to her? Did he try? Did he regret what he did? Did he miss her as much as she had missed him? She could never ask. She was afraid to. Not knowing if she'd be able to handle the truth. And she hated that.
"How long is your parole?"
"Five years."
Rory blew out a breath. So he had been sentenced to ten years. She wondered what strings were pulled to allow him to serve the last five on parole. She cleared her throat. "What's the first thing you're going to do when you're free from its constraints?"
She watched as his lips turned up, but he didn't meet her eyes for a few moments. Instead, he focused on his empty plate, as if deciding his answer, before letting blue meet blue.
"That all depends."
Rory's breathing grew shallow. Her reply was hesitant. "On?"
"Where I'm at in life." His eyes never left hers. "Who I'm with."
Rory looked away, the idea of him being with someone at that time filling her with something she had no right feeling.
"Five years is a long time," was all she said.
Tristan let out a long breath. "Oh, you have no idea."
Once again, butterflies filled her belly and she had to look away when she felt heat touch her cheeks again at the insinuation of his words. What was wrong with her? She was an adult, a professional. How could he still have this effect on her?
And why did it seem like she had zero effect on him? He was so cool and calm, sitting there, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. And here she was, blushing, her heart pounding, memories of everything they'd ever done dancing through her head on a loop.
Remembered their very first time sitting in a diner talking to each other just like this.
"What's your name?"
He laughed. "I told you already, Mary, and I'm sure you've been told a lot about me so you probably already know my last name, too. Correct?"
"Yes," she answered honestly. "How old are you?"
"What is this, twenty questions?"
"You asked if I had any more, and seeing as though I'm letting you give me a ride home I should at least know a little about you."
He nodded, his cold, dangerous eyes fixated on hers. "Twenty-one."
So he wasn't much older than her at all. "And you're in…" she started hesitantly. "A gang?"
He smirked, his eyes taunting her. "Maybe."
She narrowed her eyes at him, but he only seemed to grow more amused. "Okay, another question." She debated what she wanted to ask next but when she saw more people staring at them, whispering behind their hands, she shifted uncomfortably and lowered her voice. "Why are there people looking at us?"
That very first time should have been a warning. She should have realized how notorious, how dangerous he was, and ran. She should have left then and not looked back, but she hadn't. Instead she had been entranced by it, curious about the boy she saw lurking beneath the dangerous eyes, and fell for him. Hard. Trusted him, trusted that he'd changed. But in the end, he hadn't.
She felt her anger build, and she wasn't surprised when he sensed it.
"What's wrong?"
Her eyes found his and narrowed. "What's wrong?" she repeated, trying to take calming breaths but his eyes sparkled with amusement and only triggered her more. She laughed, the sound anything but nice. "That's a loaded question." Was all she said, grabbing her wallet and throwing a couple bills on the table before grabbing her jacket and making her way to the exit without another word.
She was acting irrational, she knew it but couldn't help it. It had been five years, five years of pain and missing him and living in denial that she wasn't. Five years of trying her damndest to get over him. She thought she finally had, then he just waltzed into her life once again and everything had come flooding back. Every sweet memory, every bad one, every thing she had tried so hard to forget. It was consuming her, and while she tried to play nice, tried to hold up her end of the deal and keep things civil, years of feelings she struggled to keep buried were quickly making its way to the surface and threatening to boil over.
"Rory!" She heard him call her name but kept walking, turning down the side alley by the diner and heading toward the main street. Edie should be done with her classes by now and could hopefully swing by and get her. If not, she would walk. Even though she was even further from her place than she had been when they left Paris's. There was no way she was getting on his bike again. She needed to stay away from him. Far away from him.
The thud of boots behind her had her quickening her pace but Tristan had already caught up to her, catching her arm and spinning her to face him, his eyes searching her face as if he were confused as to why she had left, why she was angry.
It only stoked the fire that he was so oblivious. She ripped her arm from his hold. "Go home, Tristan. Or go wherever. Just get away from me."
She heard him suck in a breath. "What the fuck, Rory? What's wrong?"
The laugh that spilled from her lips bordered on insane. "You are what's wrong!" she yelled and ignored the looks a couple passing by the alley sent down at them. "Everything was fine until you decided to just burst back into my life. Now everything is just…" she trailed off, emotion filling her and she closed her eyes to calm herself. When she opened them again and met his, the tortured look in them nearly broke her. The anger quickly faded to the sadness she had dreaded would resurface. "How can you be so cool about this? Like you didn't destroy us?"
His chest rose and fell as he watched her, the seconds that passed felt like hours and even though cars drove around them and the sounds of the city filled the air, right there in the alley, the silence was deafening.
"You asked me to. You asked me to forget the past. To start new."
His words were quiet, pained, and Rory's heart dropped. She had. She wanted to forget the past, so sure she would be able to and only worried that he wouldn't, but it turned out she was the one not being able to let go.
She bit her lip, nearly drawing blood, and shook her head. "Well, I wish forgetting was as easy for me as it is for you."
His eyes instantly darkened at her words, his face turning to stone as he took a step toward her, glimpses of the man she once knew shining through. "You think I've forgotten anything?" He took another step, and then another until her back was against the building behind her and he towered over her. "All I did for the past five years was remember every single little fucking thing." His laugh sent a shiver up her spine. "Even now. Every day, Rory. It's you."
She couldn't breathe. His words, how close he was. All she had to do was move, just an inch, and her hands would be on him.
"Well, you had me fooled." Her voice was weak, barely audible over the pounding of her heart. His body being so close to hers was driving her insane.
His hand found the building next to her head, his fist clenching against the brick as he leaned down. "Is that so?" His voice had dropped a couple octaves and slid over her like velvet. "You don't think that every second of being near you and not touching you isn't fucking killing me?" His face moved, barely an inch from hers. "You think I almost didn't pull the bike over a couple dozen times on our way here because I couldn't take feeling your body against mine? That I didn't want to knock everything off our table in there and fuck you in front of everyone? That I haven't wanted to do that every second that I'm with you since the moment I saw you again?"
Rory was surprised she was still standing. That her knees hadn't given out. That she hadn't melted into a puddle right there in the alley.
His ragged breathing touched her lips, moved down her neck, sending flames licking over her already burning skin. She needed him, now more than she ever thought she'd needed him before. There was too much still there between them, so much left unfinished, and they were both fools if they thought they could just forget the past so easily.
They had always been electric.
Now they were explosive.
He didn't move, and she knew he wouldn't. If there was any quality that he excelled at, it was discipline and control.
He wouldn't kiss her. He wouldn't touch her. She would have to make the first move.
So she did.
The second she moved forward and her lips met his, the thought that the back of his bike wasn't home but this was, he was, floated into her head but she quickly pushed it away, letting herself get lost in the feel of his lips. They came together as if a day hadn't passed, as if that day behind a deserted gas station hadn't been five years ago but just five days ago. As if they were still together, as if they still owned each other - heart, body, and soul.
His lips claimed her, taking what he wanted. He had always been possessive, but now it was amplified. One hand cupped her cheek, his fingers threading into her hair as his other hand slid down her hip, catching the back of her knee roughly and pulling her up effortlessly to link her legs around his waist. Then he pushed his body into her and she gasped.
"You feel that? You see how much I want you? Have wanted you every fucking second." His words were hot against her mouth before then their tongues met again, fighting for dominance. His lips teased hers, his tongue, his teeth, all while his fingers dug into her skin, burning her even through her clothes.
"Fuck, Ror." he whispered as he pulled back to catch his breath. "Come home with me."
His words squeezed her heart. Maybe he didn't mean it that way, but he could have asked her to come back to his place, for them to find someplace secluded, but he didn't. He asked her to come home.
Home.
God, she missed home with him.
She was barely able to fully nod before he was lowering her to her feet and taking her hand, pulling her back down the alley and towards the diner where he'd parked his bike.
They put their helmets on quickly and without a word, only for Tristan to pull his back off and then reach for hers, sliding it off her head and dropping it. Then his hands were framing her face again, pulling her lips to his. She heard a few catcalls, someone muttering for them to get a room, but all she could care about was the man in front of her.
She needed his help getting on the bike when he finally pulled away, her legs unsteady, and didn't miss his smug smile at that before he put her helmet on for her, locking the strap before running his finger slowly down her neck, her collarbone before falling away.
She was on fire.
Her body pulsed with want, need, and something else that she refused to acknowledge as they flew through the city, heading toward his apartment - the one that he had lived in before they'd gotten one together in New Haven. One she hadn't been to in years, that she had no idea he still kept.
"Where are we?"
Tristan walked towards the elevator that led out of the garage. "My place."
Rory raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Your place?"
Tristan smirked as he leaned against the elevator door to prevent it from closing. "The wind from the ride mess with your hearing, Mary?"
Rory watched him for a minute as he kept his eyes on hers, not looking away. "What makes you think that I want to come up there?"
Tristan cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying you don't? I think it's only fair," his voice took a teasing note. "You see… you got to show me your room so it's only fair that I get to show you mine." His eyes found her lips and she watched as his tongue came out to wet his own.
"Is that so?" Rory's heart flipped.
"Mmhmm." Tristan nodded confidently and the smile she felt appear on her lips mirrored his. "Now would you mind getting your pretty ass in here so we can be on our way? We are on a time limit to get you home, remember?"
They somehow managed to keep their hands off of each other until they got into the elevator, Tristan hitting the floor number quickly before she was in his arms again and his hands were all over her.
Everywhere.
Rory gasped when his palms moved from her hips to her ass, lifting her, her legs automatically circling his waist and then he was pressing into her.
He was so hard and ready as he continued to press into her, teasing her, the friction of their jeans driving them both insane. It was too much and not enough, all at once. Her hands found his hair, tugging at it with every grind he tortured her with, her lips biting at his, then soothing the sting with her tongue.
They didn't even notice when the elevator stopped, and it wasn't until the door chimed, signaling it was sliding shut again that they both turned to it, Tristan holding out a hand to stop it, his other hand still holding her to him and then he was carrying her down the hall.
She laughed when they bumped into a wall, and felt his grin against her lips before she moved to his neck, gently sucking at the sensitive flesh in order to let him pay attention to where he was taking her but her actions seemed to distract him even more and had him stumbling, his fingers digging into her ass as let out a hiss when she nipped his ear.
Her hands ran over the leather of his jacket, amazed at the memories the feel of a single piece of clothing was bringing back.
"It's not that bad."
Rory sent him a look before reaching for the closest thing she could find, which happened to be his leather jacket, and slid her arms into it. She stood up, wrapping it around her body.
"Well, it's very homey." She remarked as she walked over to the dust-covered desk.
When he didn't say anything, she looked back to find his gaze on her, moving over her body.
"Rory." His voice was strained as he met her eyes. "If you wear that, and only that, like you are now, for the rest of your life… I will do anything." He spoke the words so seriously that she couldn't help but grin, her nerves fading as she walked over to him and stood beside the cot, putting one knee on it for balance.
"You really like it?" she asked innocently, surprising herself at the seductive grin that spread over her face as she let the coat fall open.
Tristan's eyes slowly trailed over her body before they shot up to hers and he nodded, grabbing her and pulling her down underneath him.
The sound of keys brought her back to reality, though she was surprised she had even heard them over their labored breathing. Then the creak of a door filled her ears for a moment before it slammed shut and she was being turned and shoved against it.
His large, warm hands dove under her shirt, racing up to cup her over her bra and she thought for sure that she was going to burn up.
As if reading her mind, he gently lowered her feet to the floor and then they were a tangle of arms and hands as they undressed. Themselves, each other, pulling at clothes wherever their hands landed. The sound of something tearing filled the apartment but she didn't care. Clothes could be replaced and nothing else mattered other than his hands on her, over her, inside her.
It was like no time had passed. His mouth and hands moved over her body, knowing it so well, remembering every spot that drove her crazy, and she gladly explored the new hard lines of his. His muscles flexed under her hands as he lifted her up again, and she teased his lips as his hands kneaded the backs of her thighs, his fingers so close to where she needed them as he carried her to the table and set her on it.
He pulled away then, and she sat back, her palms resting on the table behind her as he took a step away from her, letting his eyes drag over her. Most of her clothes were gone, leaving her in just her bra and panties, neither of which were anything special but the look in his eyes made her feel as if she were the most beautiful thing in the world.
Five years had changed her body. She'd started having to watch what she ate as her metabolism slowed and she carried a few more pounds than she had back then, her skin required regimens to stay soft and the fine lines had started to show. She knew the physical differences weren't as drastic as his, but she had changed as well. Yet he looked at her the same way he always had, and a pain made its way to her chest at the realization.
She sat up straighter, moving her hands around her back to unclasp her bra and then slowly slid it off of her shoulders, his eyes watching the movement closely, before she tossed it to the side.
"Are you just going to stand there and look?"
She was surprised she was able to speak. She could barely draw her own eyes away from his body. It was larger, harder, beautiful, but she couldn't help but notice an array of small scars and one large one that covered his abdomen and wondered how they'd happened, afraid to know.
He broke her thoughts when he stepped forward again, his hands coming to rest at the sides of her knees and then slowly moved up her thighs, goosebumps dancing across her skin. Slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, his hands traveled up further and further, her body trembling under his touch, until they finally came to rest before her breasts, his knuckles gently sliding across the skin there.
He lowered his forehead to hers, his eyes closely tightly. "It's been a long time, baby."
She thought he meant it had been a long time for them, but something in his voice had Rory's eyes widening and her head jerking back as she stared at his face. She was sure he had been with someone since he was released. What kind of man wouldn't have after spending five years in prison. "You haven't-" she started but his eyes opened, meeting hers, and the fire in them answered her question.
Joy flooded her, heat pooled. She didn't want to think about why it pleased her so much, but it did.
So fucking much.
She bit her lip as she looked up at him through hooded eyes, her voice barely a whisper when she spoke. "What are you waiting for then?"
Her words seemed to break something inside of him and in a second, his hands were on her hips again, pulling her off of the table and ripping her panties off, not waiting for her to step from them. Then he was turning her, bending her over the edge and she gripped the sides, waiting to feel him slide into her, but instead, she heard a thud as his knees hit the floor and then his hands were on her thighs, spreading them, forcing her legs wider, and his mouth was on her.
She couldn't control the scream that tore from her lips. His hands gripped her tighter as he devoured her from behind, not letting her move. His tongue flicking over her, sucking her between his lips. She barely had time to register what was happening before the orgasm tore through her, causing her to buck into the table but he didn't stop. It seemed to only spur him on and he continued his delicious torture, licking, sucking, and driving her body higher and higher until she felt another orgasm building.
"Tristan, I need more," she gasped the words as he slid his tongue into her once more, flicking her clit teasingly before he grabbed her hips and turned her. She met his eyes and the fire in them, the way his lips curled up into a devilish grin as he slowly licked them, licked her off of them, had her almost coming again right then and there.
His hands caught hers and laced their fingers before pinning them to the table top she was sitting on. His mouth found her neck, sucking and biting his way down to her chest before latching onto a nipple, sucking hard before flicking it with his tongue, once, twice, and her body shook.
She was burning up, right at the peak again and begging to go over but his slow torture just dragged it out, teasing release but not giving it.
When his hands left hers, she found his hair again, pulling his face to hers for a hard kiss before her hands were moving down the hard lines of his back and then around to the front, sliding beneath the boxers he still wore to grip him.
Her lips curved at the feel of him, so hard and hot in her hand, but when she started to stroke him, he caught her wrist, stopping her. "It's been a while," his words were a pained whisper when he spoke. "When I come, it's going to be with my cock buried inside of you."
She thought there was no way she could be more turned on, almost on the brink of another orgasm, her body still feeling the after effects of the one he'd just brought her to with his mouth. But the second those words left his lips, she went feral. She needed him inside of her more than she'd needed anything in her life.
"I guess you better fuck me then."
Her words were all it took and in a second, she was lifted again, her back meeting the wall at the same moment he buried himself inside of her. Their simultaneous moans echoed through the apartment and he pulled back, only to thrust into her again, each movement driving her insane and bringing her back to that peak once again as he pounded into her body relentlessly.
He held her with such ease and she couldn't stop touching him, in awe at the sheer power of him. Her hands outlining the muscles of his shoulders, his arms, his back, and her nails dug in as he drove his cock into her with such an urgency she no longer knew where she ended and he began.
She came again, his name a whisper on her lips as she did and rode it out as he thrust into her again, once, twice, and then he was following her, his fingers promising to leave bruises at her hips and the thought of him marking her pleased her more than she cared to admit.
When they were no longer panting, when they'd come back down from what was undoubtedly the best orgasm of her life, he moved with her, his cock still buried inside her as he carried her down the hallway and to his bedroom, his bed.
Rory fell back against it, throwing her arms above her head and stretching, unable to help the satisfied smile gracing her lips and watched as he moved over her, his eyes dragging over her body slowly before finding her own.
When he kissed her this time, it was something more. The frantic need she could handle, but she wasn't sure she could survive the tenderness and the unspoken feelings that came with it.
He laid over her for a long time, kissing her, gently touching her, hands tracing every line of her body as if he wanted to make sure he had remembered it correctly. His eyes worshipping her, his hands laying claim to her.
Without the urgency, every other emotion started to rise to the surface and she couldn't fight them off.
The memories, the love. It was overwhelming.
"I get tattoos when something big happens in my life."
Rory stared wordlessly at his chest, tracing the tattoo with her eyes, unable to look away as emotion clogged her throat.
"And the big thing…" she started, lifting her eyes to meet his.
"You, baby."
Tears stung her eyes, even as she urged him on, spreading her legs so he could enter her again when she felt him hardening against her leg.
It was slow this time, their lips dancing to the beat of his thrusts as he slowly moved against her, teasing her body up and over again even as she thought she couldn't possibly take anymore.
And when he called her baby and whispered the words, the words she prayed he wouldn't say, as he spilled into her again, her body taking him, it was what broke her.
When he got up to get a towel and she heard the faucet turn on, she didn't think before she was moving to the kitchen, frantically searching for her clothes and tugging them on, biting back tears. Her hands found her phone, texting Edie quickly.
She wanted the anger back, the frustration. That she could deal with. But not this, not the pain. Not the hurt. Not the reminder that her broken heart hadn't fully healed like she'd hoped.
When she heard him coming, she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and wiping any emotion from her face, doing her best to display the indifference she'd mastered over the years.
He'd pulled on a pair of jeans but had not buttoned them, instead they rode low on his hips, displaying his tanned and toned body. And those scars. Those horrifying scars that had her heart aching even more.
"What are you doing?"
She knew he didn't mean to let the worry show in his words, but it did, and it made her feel even worse about what she was about to do.
But she had to.
This couldn't happen. Not again.
"I messaged my assistant, she's going to swing by and get me."
Tristan set the towel he'd been carrying down on the counter and walked towards her but stopped a few feet away.
"I can drive you," he offered, watching her closely.
Rory shook her head, putting on her best smile. "There's no need. I'm sure you have stuff to do."
He was quiet for a moment and she moved to leave but his words stopped her. "Stay."
The tears stung again but she blinked them away before she met his eyes. "This… I hope you didn't think this was something that it wasn't."
Her own words left her feeling sick as they fell from her lips.
Tristan smirked then, his eyes darkening and she could practically see his walls go up as his face turned to stone. "What was it?"
His voice was cold. Colder than she'd ever heard it before. Even back then.
"Sex, Tristan." She took a steadying breath before taking a step toward the door. "Just casual sex between two consenting adults. Nothing more."
He nodded, his jaw flexing. "Casual sex," he repeated. "I don't remember you thinking there was ever anything casual about it."
Rory looked down at her feet then, a sad smile gracing her lips. "Well, things change," she told him, her words implying much more than they let on and when his eyes flashed, she knew he had gotten the hint.
Her phone chimed with a message from Edie, announcing her arrival downstairs and Rory met his eyes once more as she reached for the handle to the door. "I will see you at the fitting next week," she told him, and when he didn't respond, she glanced around the apartment once more, the apartment that was filled with so many memories, before she met his eyes and whispered her strongest goodbye before walking out.
She didn't cry in the elevator. She didn't cry during the car ride as Edie glanced at her worriedly. She didn't even cry when she'd gotten home and answered the call from Paris who announced that she was indeed expecting.
She'd smiled and sent her words of encouragement, promising to get together the next day to celebrate.
It wasn't until after she'd hung up the phone that her knees gave out and she'd sunk to the floor as everything hit her full force.
And the tears didn't stop until exhaustion carried her off to dreams starring a man that she still loved far too much.
I am you, everything you do
Anything you say, you want me to be
You're me with your arms on a chain
Linked eternally in what we can't undo