The kisses were as slow and torturous as they were tender, and soon he was sitting up in bed so he could pull her into a seated position too. He helped her remove her sweater dress, tossing it off the bed, and kissed her softly. He traced his fingers along her jaw and then followed the path with his lips, making his way down the column of her neck before gently sucking at a spot above her collarbone. Tristan was tender, so fucking tender, and her body didn’t know how to react to the beautiful paradox that this man was. He was poised to destroy her but to do it with such care that he’d put her back together again. And that was when she knew. As excited as she was about finding out if the perfection that was Tristan extended to his dick, what they were about to do would not be sex. It would not be fucking. It would be so much more, and Cosima knew her world would never be the same.

13. Tristan

Chapter 13

Tristan

Tristan traced his fingertips across Cosima’s jawline and followed the path they took with gentle kisses. He wanted to savor her. He wanted to savor them. He wanted to savor this moment that felt like it would be more than the simple satiation of a physical urge. Tristan wanted to get so close to Cosima that their hearts started beating in unison out of sheer confusion about whose arteries they were meant to be pumping blood to.

He brought his lips back to hers, kissing her fiercely as he wrapped his hand up in her ponytail so he could pull her even closer to him as teeth grazed lips and tongues lashed against each other. He helped her out of her sweater dress and threw it off the side of the bed so his hands could immediately return to caressing her skin. His fingers traced lines along her shoulders and collarbone before he cupped her breasts through the lacy deep blue bra she wore. Seeing her nipples poking against the sheer material made his dick throb against his sweatpants. Tristan kissed Cosima, lingering for a while before he pulled away and whispered, “I think I’m wearing too many clothes.”

Cosima lay back on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows as she watched Tristan stand. He removed the long-sleeved white shirt he was wearing and smiled when he noticed a flicker of surprise in her eyes as she realized his body was a canvas for his art.

“Wow,” she whispered, easing herself to the edge of the bed. He stepped between her open legs, sucking in a breath when she traced the lines of the face of the jaguar that adorned most of the left side of his stomach. “This is so intricate. I can’t wait to hear the story behind all of these.”