torture. Not being able to touch you, or taste you. Not being able to lose myself in that sweet pussy…I'm going to explode before the night is over."
"It won't be that bad," she lied, another warm rush of heat waving through her at his charged confession. In truth, not being able to touch him would to be torture for her, too. They'd been in their own little bubble all day, just the two of them. Even though she wanted to meet his family, having to share him with anyone else made her ache.
"Liar," he said with a snort. "You want my cock inside you as much as I want it. I can see it in your eyes, beautiful. And there is no way Zoë and Aunt Katherine will let me keep you to myself tonight."
"Oh," she said, her face flushing at how easily he read her. They fell silent as they approached the house, her nerves kicking in full force. Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth. Her steps slowed.
When he noticed, he stopped walking, positioning himself between her and the house.
"What's wrong?"
"I didn't get your uncle a gift," she hedged.
"Already taken care of. Do you know Gerard Dou?" he asked when she arched a brow, surprised.
"Um…no? Does he play football or something?"
He grinned, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Not quite. Dou was a Dutch artist in the 1600s. John has always enjoyed his work, so you and I bought him a line engraving of Le Femme Hydropique for his office. The painting was delivered yesterday and he loves it."
"Art?" she asked, not sure if she should argue about him making what sounded like a really expensive gift from both of them. She had plenty of money, but she didn't want his family to think she was trying to buy her way into their good graces.
"Art." He reached up to run his hand down her cheek in a soothing gesture. "They're going to love you, beautiful. Stop worrying."
"Easy for you to say," she muttered.
"Hey. Your dad's the former cop, remember? I survived talking to him."
"Maybe, but he was in another state, and he doesn't know we're living together either," she pointed out.
Tristan laughed as he laced his hand through hers once more. "I love being able to hold you at night. And believe me, even if they didn't know the truth, they aren't going to judge you for the fact that we're shacking up together."
"Shacking up together?" A voice chimed from behind him. "Seriously, Tristan?"
Lillian jumped, her gaze darting to the front door. Zoë leaned against the door frame, smiling at them, her blue eyes bright with amusement. Dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt with the ends of her blonde hair blown out, she still appeared elegant and gorgeous.
"Jesus, Zoë," Tristan said and rolled his eyes before turning around to face her. "Hasn't Jason taught you not to eavesdrop yet?"
"Actually, he taught me how to do it without getting caught," she retorted with a dismissive wave of her hand before turning her grin on Lillian. "It's so nice to see you again, Lillian."
"You as well." Lillian couldn't help but smile back at the petite woman.
"He better not have taught you how to eavesdrop," Tristan grumbled and helped her climb the few stairs to the porch. He leaned down and dropped a kiss atop his cousin's head. "And you suck at it, by the way. I heard you as soon as the door opened."
"Whatever. You're just scared I'll tap your phones."
"You mean you haven't already tapped my phones? Restraint. Wow," he teased dryly.
"Why does she get to tap your phones but I can't?" a guy demanded. He looked exactly like Jason—crew cut blond hair, broad shoulders, and rugged good looks—only much bigger and less severe. Younger. He glanced at Lillian and grinned. "You must be Lillian."
Before she could confirm her identity, he had her off her feet, swinging her around in a hug.
"Jordan, put her down," Tristan growled.
"No, she's prettier than you are."
"Now, Jordan," he demanded.
"Fine," Jordan said and glanced down at her, winking. "He's no fun."
"No fun at all," she agreed solemnly when he
"It won't be that bad," she lied, another warm rush of heat waving through her at his charged confession. In truth, not being able to touch him would to be torture for her, too. They'd been in their own little bubble all day, just the two of them. Even though she wanted to meet his family, having to share him with anyone else made her ache.
"Liar," he said with a snort. "You want my cock inside you as much as I want it. I can see it in your eyes, beautiful. And there is no way Zoë and Aunt Katherine will let me keep you to myself tonight."
"Oh," she said, her face flushing at how easily he read her. They fell silent as they approached the house, her nerves kicking in full force. Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth. Her steps slowed.
When he noticed, he stopped walking, positioning himself between her and the house.
"What's wrong?"
"I didn't get your uncle a gift," she hedged.
"Already taken care of. Do you know Gerard Dou?" he asked when she arched a brow, surprised.
"Um…no? Does he play football or something?"
He grinned, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Not quite. Dou was a Dutch artist in the 1600s. John has always enjoyed his work, so you and I bought him a line engraving of Le Femme Hydropique for his office. The painting was delivered yesterday and he loves it."
"Art?" she asked, not sure if she should argue about him making what sounded like a really expensive gift from both of them. She had plenty of money, but she didn't want his family to think she was trying to buy her way into their good graces.
"Art." He reached up to run his hand down her cheek in a soothing gesture. "They're going to love you, beautiful. Stop worrying."
"Easy for you to say," she muttered.
"Hey. Your dad's the former cop, remember? I survived talking to him."
"Maybe, but he was in another state, and he doesn't know we're living together either," she pointed out.
Tristan laughed as he laced his hand through hers once more. "I love being able to hold you at night. And believe me, even if they didn't know the truth, they aren't going to judge you for the fact that we're shacking up together."
"Shacking up together?" A voice chimed from behind him. "Seriously, Tristan?"
Lillian jumped, her gaze darting to the front door. Zoë leaned against the door frame, smiling at them, her blue eyes bright with amusement. Dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt with the ends of her blonde hair blown out, she still appeared elegant and gorgeous.
"Jesus, Zoë," Tristan said and rolled his eyes before turning around to face her. "Hasn't Jason taught you not to eavesdrop yet?"
"Actually, he taught me how to do it without getting caught," she retorted with a dismissive wave of her hand before turning her grin on Lillian. "It's so nice to see you again, Lillian."
"You as well." Lillian couldn't help but smile back at the petite woman.
"He better not have taught you how to eavesdrop," Tristan grumbled and helped her climb the few stairs to the porch. He leaned down and dropped a kiss atop his cousin's head. "And you suck at it, by the way. I heard you as soon as the door opened."
"Whatever. You're just scared I'll tap your phones."
"You mean you haven't already tapped my phones? Restraint. Wow," he teased dryly.
"Why does she get to tap your phones but I can't?" a guy demanded. He looked exactly like Jason—crew cut blond hair, broad shoulders, and rugged good looks—only much bigger and less severe. Younger. He glanced at Lillian and grinned. "You must be Lillian."
Before she could confirm her identity, he had her off her feet, swinging her around in a hug.
"Jordan, put her down," Tristan growled.
"No, she's prettier than you are."
"Now, Jordan," he demanded.
"Fine," Jordan said and glanced down at her, winking. "He's no fun."
"No fun at all," she agreed solemnly when he
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