Crash Into Me (18 page)

Thunder
boomed overhead, chasing nearly everyone from the square. Soaked to the bone,
we ran for shelter behind the colonnade. My hair was drenched and plastered to
my head, and I slicked it off my face just so I could see. I looked up at
Tristan, who was scrubbing his face dry with his hands. He looked as incredible
as always. Dipping my head, I wiped under my eyes to get rid of any smeared
mascara and mumbled, "I must look like a nightmare."

He
lifted my chin to force me to look at him and shook his head. "You look
beautiful. Come here."

Pulling
me close, he kissed me deeply, sending a rush of arousal through my body. His
hands fisted my hair as he slid his tongue over mine seductively. His hips
pushed forward, brushing his hardening cock between my legs and making me tilt
my hips to eagerly meet his thrusts.

"You
wanted seduction, didn't you, Nina?" he asked in that deep voice that made
me want him more than anything at that moment.

"Yes,"
I answered breathlessly as he gently pinned me against a column.

"Yes,"
he repeated as he slid his hand under my dress all the way up to my panties.
"Yes." He moaned softly in my ear, "Right here, Nina. Right
here."

Were
there people nearby? I didn't know and I didn't care. I wanted him inside me
now. His mouth plundered mine and mine plundered his in return as I fumbled
with his belt, finally pulling it loose. My hand reached into his pants and
tugged on his boxer briefs, yanking them down below his balls so his stiff cock
sprang out at attention while the other hand yanked his shirt out of the way,
sending buttons flying in all directions. I slid my hand over his smooth cock
and drew a sharp breath in as he tore my panties from my body.

He
was like a man possessed, his hands grasping at my face and neck as he kissed
me. Lifting me onto him, he slid his cock inside me and wrapped my hands around
his neck. Those dark eyes stared into mine, wild and full of desire, and he
began pumping into my body raggedly. His grunts filled my ears as with each
thrust he pushed me back against the marble column, but I was oblivious to pain
or anything other than Tristan.

He
was everywhere around me—his mouth, his hands, his cock becoming essential to
the happiness every part of my body cried out for. I clawed at his scalp,
looking for some leverage as he fucked me wildly there behind a column for
anyone to see. My legs ached from their hold around his waist, and with each
plunge of his cock inside my wet pussy, I pushed my heels against his back,
praying this time he'd finally bury himself deep inside me.

"Faster,
Tristan. I'm almost there," I cried as the first twinge of my orgasm
began. "Harder."

My
pleas were met with exactly what I wanted—he pounded into me like a madman, his
hands gripping my ass tightly and roughly pulling me into him. His moans and
grunts surrounded me, edging me closer to coming as his cock moved like a
piston in and out of me.

I
cried out, "Yes!" and squeezed his neck as I began to come. Every
part of me felt release as my orgasm shuddered through me, and I pushed down to
take every inch of his thick cock as my legs quivered against him. He buried
his face in my neck and grunted one last time as I felt him explode into me,
bathing my insides with his own release.

His
legs shook as he moaned my name over and over until there was nothing left for
either of us to take from the other's body. I was his completely, and he was
mine. Tristan lifted his head and pressed it against mine, his forehead
drenched with perspiration.

"God,
I love you," he groaned. "I can't fucking live without you, Nina.
Promise me no matter what you won't make me. I can't do it."

I
caressed his face and kissed his lips as the last word left his mouth. There
was nothing in the world that could tear me from him. He was everything to me,
as essential as the air I breathed or the food I ate.

"Never.
I'm yours like you're mine. Forever."

Chapter Seventeen

Venice had been the turning point I'd hoped and prayed for with Tristan. With every word
and every action, he proved he was as devoted to me as I was to him. We'd even
made it through a whole night without any phone calls souring his mood. When we
fell asleep in each other's arms that night, I was happier than I ever thought
a person could be.

My
happiness was shattered within minutes of waking up the next morning, however.

Once
again, I woke up and Tristan was nowhere to be found. I'd half expected to find
a note sitting on his pillow, but reaching out to run my hands over the fine
Egyptian cotton pillowcase, there was nothing.

I
didn't have to wait long to find out what had taken him from our bed so early.
His footsteps pounding against the floor in the next room told me something was
wrong, and I slipped into the white dress shirt he'd left slung over a chair
the night before and made my way out to see him.

He
stood near the glass doors to the balcony with his arms folded across his
chest. His profile showed a grimace as I walked toward him. I gently touched
his sleeve, saddened when I saw his expression as he turned toward me.

"Hey,
what's wrong?"

Tristan
leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. "Work. I'm sorry, but we're
going to have to cut our trip short. I wish I didn't have to get back, but you
know how it is."

I
couldn't hide my disappointment and turned away to look out through the doors
at the Grand Canal. "Oh. Okay."

"I'm
sorry, Nina. I promise to make it up to you."

Nodding,
I looked up at him and forced a smile onto my face. "I know. Such is the
life of a bigwig."

My
joke made him laugh, and at least for a moment he appeared happy, even if there
was a hint of sadness in his words. "Bigwig, huh? Well, this bigwig would
take a smaller wig and being able to stay here with you."

I
stood on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. Those deep brown eyes
stared down into mine, almost as if he were begging forgiveness.

"You
do know women often don't like men with smaller...wigs," I teased with a
giggle.

His
smile in return was genuine and warmed my heart. "Well, thank God I've
been blessed in the wig department."

Sliding
my hand down his torso, I ran my palm over the front of his pants before I
turned to head into the bath. "Blessed indeed."

I
didn't get far before he pulled me back against him and said in a deep voice,
"I won't be able to get any work done if you keep making me think about
last night."

His
reference to what we'd done behind that pillar in the Piazza San Marco made an
ache form between my legs. Finally, I'd seen the man behind the expensive suits
and hardly any words—that passionate heart that no one but me saw. I would have
given anything for the world to go away and have him all to myself for the rest
of time.

Blushing
at the memory of the rawest, most erotic moment of my life, I covered his hands
with mine and leaned my head back against his shoulder. "You're going to
make me so completely crazy about you that I become your love slave, Tristan
Stone."

He
nuzzled my neck, sending chills down my spine. In a husky voice, he whispered,
"You've figured out my diabolical plan."

Turning
in his arms, I smiled up at him. "I knew you had an ulterior motive."

"I
have to get some work done before we leave, Nina. We need to be ready in little
more than an hour."

Even
the mere mention of work changed his mood from playful to serious, almost
worried. His beautiful face became marred by a deep frown. I wanted to ask what
the problem was, but I let it be. For all I knew, it could be the flight we had
to take. So I toddled off to take a nice hot bath before having to spend eight
hours on a plane, satisfied that even with the abbreviated holiday, it still
had been the most incredible few days of my life.

Tristan
vanished almost the minute we arrived home, so I headed straight to my room,
ready to throw myself into my next assignment with the Miami Richmont hotel. I
opened the door to the room that had become my home and instantly knew
something had changed. Nothing I'd left on the desk while we were in Venice was there, including my laptop. Frantic, I ran down the hall yelling Tristan's
name. Didn't he have security that handled things like this?

Rogers heard my screams and in his usual fashion seemed to appear out of nowhere as I
reached the kitchen. Fully convinced my belongings had been stolen, I blurted
out, "We've been robbed! My laptop and a bunch of other stuff is gone, Rogers! Did you see anyone?"

"Miss,
we haven't been robbed. I think you'll find all your personal belongings have
been moved to the master's room, as per his orders. If you'd like, I can escort
you there where your things are safe and sound."

I
stood stunned at the butler's words. Unsure of what to say, I mumbled a quick
thank you and quickly made my way to Tristan's side of the house to find
everything as Rogers had claimed. My laptop sat in the exact same position on
his desk as it had in my room. Every stitch of clothing I owned, even down to
my underwear, had been moved and placed in the enormous walk-in closet just
beside his clothes. My hand instinctively reached out to touch his suits and
dress shirts hanging perfectly on their hangers, loving the feel of their crisp
softness against my fingertips as I ran my hand all the way toward the furthest
point of the closet. I checked the bathroom and there were brand new, unopened
bottles of everything I used—shampoo, conditioner, facial scrub, moisturizer,
and even a tube of my favorite toothpaste.

Tristan
had arranged for all of this, but when?

I
walked out of the bathroom impressed with his attention to every detail, even
the tiniest one. Other women may have loved his money or stunning looks, but
for me, his way of noticing what other men didn't was one of the best parts of
him.

Grabbing
my laptop, I plopped myself down on the bed and opened it to begin searching
for information on the Miami hotel. There on the keyboard was an envelope. I
opened it and found another of Tristan's letters I'd grown to love.

Dear
Nina,

It's
only right that the woman I love be in her rightful place next to me. When I
get home I'll be eager to see your ideas for Miami. I'll be spending my day
fixing problems, but you can be sure that our time in Venice is on my mind.

                                                                             Love
always,

                                                                             Tristan

I
beamed as I reread his letter, loving the sweetness of him writing one at all.
I stared at the note, running my finger over the handwritten words. God, I
loved him! Folding the heavy stationary back into the envelope, I pressed it to
my heart before I slipped the letter into my purse to join the others. 

As
much as I wanted to lounge around and think about Tristan, I had work to do. 
Just because he was as crazy about me as I was about him didn't mean I wanted
to slack off at my job. In fact, it made me want to be even better at it. Doing
a great job would help him in some small way, and that made me feel like I
deserved that rightful place next to him.

Before
I began searching for the perfect artwork for the Miami Presidential suite, my
email lured me in like a siren's song. Jordan had sent me a message just a few
hours earlier. Clicking on it, I read her email to find that I had some kind of
letter waiting for me. She didn't say much about it, other than that it looked
official, which piqued my curiosity, but that would have to wait. She and
Justin seemed to be fine and moving toward bigger and better things, and our
neighbor Mrs. Phillips on the first floor was just as crazy as she'd always
been, but now that madness included a long-lost grandson who Jordan hated
because he was one of those people who kept eye contact for too long.

I
had to laugh at Jordan's rundown of life back in Brooklyn. She was happy, and
things were just as she'd always said they'd be. Good people were having good
things happen for them, and this time, we were those people too.

I
tapped out a quick email to tell her I'd be dropping by the apartment the next
day, and then I was a woman on a mission with her nose to the art world
grindstone. The suite in Miami had recently been redecorated to reflect the
varied cultures and artistic styles found in that city. The pictures of the
suite were breathtaking and intimidating. Tristan's decorators had spared no
cost in creating a wonderful suite of rooms showcasing the fusion of Latin
American flavors and Caribbean influences so key to Miami. The vibrant blues,
yellows, and reds made the suite look like the perfect getaway spot, and I
wished we'd visit there just to experience it.

That
I now had to find that one perfect piece of art to bring the rooms together
felt like a Herculean challenge.  Of all the assignments he'd given me, this
one threatened to show that I wasn't as good at this as I wanted to be.

I
rubbed my temples and rolled my shoulders.
You can do this, Nina. You can do
this.

My
pep talk worked a small wonder on my psyche, and I set myself to the task of
finding that one piece I had to believe existed. Thankfully, the designer
hadn't gone with the obvious choice of art deco for the Miami suite. I could
appreciate that. Her choices had made the Richmont unique in a sea of luxury
hotels in South Beach.

Rubbing
my hands together, ideas began popping in my mind and I had a brainstorm. My
fingers set off clicking away on the keyboard, but two hours later, I still
hadn't found what I was searching for. What had seemed like such a great idea
didn't seem to actually exist. The thought occurred to me that I could create
something on my own, but my skill as a painter wasn't great enough to have one
of my pieces hang in the Presidential suite.

By
late afternoon, I hadn't found anything and Tristan was set to be home any
time. I had to find something to show him. Even if he vetoed my idea, it was
better than letting him down completely. Another quick inspirational talk with
myself and I was determined to find something to show for my day's work.

After
another exhaustive search, a purple and gold circle print by a Miami artist that would work perfectly was what I finally came up with. To be honest, I was
pretty sure Tristan would give it a thumbs down, but at least it was something.

Satisfied,
I bookmarked the page at the gallery and closed my laptop just in time to see
him enter the bedroom. Whatever he'd been dealing with had taken a toll on him
as I'd never seen his face look so drawn and tired.

"Hey!
Somebody stole all my things and then left them in here, oddly enough," I
joked as he sat down in the high backed chair near the window.

Tristan
loosened his tie and smiled. "That's what I love most about you, you know
that? When nothing or no one can make me smile, you can." He leaned his
head back against the chair and closed his eyes as he let out heavy sigh.

"Tough
day?"

"Too
tough."

Walking
over to behind him, I leaned forward and slid my hands over his shoulders. They
were tight and knotted and almost up near his ears. Slowly, I began kneading
his stressed muscles, whispering in his ear, "I thought men like you
didn't have to deal with the everyday hassles we ordinary people do."

He
groaned low and deep. "No, we have to deal with bigger hassles."

"Want
to talk about it?"

Tristan
shook his head. "Nope. Tell me about your day." He arched back to
look at me. "You liked my surprise?"

I
leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Very much. And your note. Would you
like to see what I came up with for Miami."

"Later."
He held my hands on his shoulders. "Tell me what you did other than work
and don't stop the massage. That feels good."

"Jordan emailed me. I'm going to stop over to see her tomorrow. She says someone sent me an
official looking envelope."

I
felt his shoulders tighten under my hands, even as he sat with his eyes closed.
"Are you expecting something official?"

Chuckling,
I pressed into his muscles, kneading even more deeply. "No. I can't
imagine who would send me anything official. The last time I got anything from
the government or a lawyer was years ago after my father's death."

"Maybe
the IRS has a bone to pick with you," he joked.

"Don't
say that. I've heard horror stories about being audited."

He
laughed at me. "Nina, I don't think the IRS is auditing you, but if they
are, just let me know and I'll have someone take care of it. It's not something
to worry about."

This
was that attention to detail thing I loved. An IRS audit would make me shake in
my shoes and stress out for weeks, but he just took it all in stride and made
me feel like if it happened, he'd handle it. I could get used to that.

I
pressed my lips to his ear and kissed him, nuzzling his neck. "I love how
you do that."

"Do
what?"

"Just
take care of things. I do love a man who takes care of business."

He
tilted his head to look up at me. "What kind of men have you been dating?"

I
returned to massaging his tired muscles and sheepishly admitted the truth.
"The wrong kind, obviously."

He
groaned softly as I hit a tender spot where his shoulders met his neck.
"I'm glad I took care of that then."

"I'm
going to see her after school tomorrow. I should be home by the time you get
home for dinner."

He
sat quietly as I attempted to ease the stress from his body. I loved these
moments when it was so clear I made him as happy as he made me. After a few
minutes, he spoke up, as if he'd been thinking about my last words. "We
can meet at the penthouse so you wouldn't have to take that ride in and out of
the city."