“Can you go tell Benny what’s up?” I ask as I dial the police. “I want him to know what’s going on.”
Tristan doesn’t say anything, but I hear him retreat toward the stairway to Benny’s office. I bite my thumbnail as I quickly tell the operator what’s going on, and she says she’ll send someone over.
By the time I hang up, Tristan has returned.
“He’ll be down in a second,” he says, pointing over his shoulder at the hallway. “He went to set the alarm and check all the doors.”
I nod, clutching my phone as I pace the floor, listening for yelling, the sounds of glass breaking, threats. However, it remains quiet—too quiet.
“Hey.” Tristan circles around to the back of the bar and obstructs my path, causing me to almost run into him. When I slam to a halt, he places his hand over mine and guides my thumb away from my mouth, putting an end to the nail biting. “Everything’s going to be okay, Avery. He can’t hurt you anymore. And the police will be here soon.”
I almost laugh. “The police were at my house the other night, and they couldn’t catch him. And even if they did, what would happen? Another short time in jail, if that, then he’d be out, tormenting me again.”
“Wait, he was at your house the other night?” Tristan asks, shocked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
A hollow laugh leaves my lips. “Because he’s my problem, not yours. You should just walk away now. Go out the back door and don’t get involved in this.”
“I’m already involved,” he says resolutely. “In fact, I got involved three months ago, so I’m not backing out now.”
“Tristan, I…” I have no idea what to say to him. Even Jax has never gotten involved like Tristan did that night he stepped in.
For the strangest moment, I feel safe with Conner just yards away, and I have no idea what to do with that. Safeness has never been something that’s come easily to me. After my father left, I felt afraid for years while living with my mother. Then Conner came into my life, and for a second, everything felt all right, but it was ephemeral, an illusion.
Could this be another illusion?
Or is it different?
How can I tell?
“I’m not going anywhere,” Tristan tells me then pulls over a chair and pats the seat. “Now, sit down and let’s talk.”
“Talk?” I question, eyeballing the chair with wariness. “About what?”
Tristan sighs as he steps around me and gently sets his hands on my shoulders. Then he steers me toward the chair and lightly pushes me down until I’m sitting. “About anything you want.” He takes a seat on the floor in front of the chair.
“I can’t think of anything right now,” I mutter, my gaze darting to the front door when I hear a sharp bang.
“How about your birthday? Other than the super awesome beach party we’re going to, what else are you doing?”
“Um, having cake and ice cream with the family.” I can’t detach my gaze from the door, deadly afraid that at any moment Conner is going to come storming inside. “And then dinner. We always do dinner… it’s a tradition.”
“That sounds like fun. It’s been a while since I’ve done the whole cake and ice cream thing.”
“I kind of have a sweet tooth,” I say, nearly lurching out of the chair when I hear Conner shout my name.
“Yeah, I remember the cupcakes.” His voice gets swallowed up by Conner’s yelling.
I grip the sides of the chair, my pulse erratic, my breathing shallow.
“Avery.”
Oh, my God, he’s going to kill me.
Flames.
Fire.
Pain.
I just want it to be over.
“Avery.”
When Tristan’s fingers graze my chin, the contact jerks me back to him. I realize he’s been saying my name over Conner’s screams.
“Relax,” Tristan says as he kneels up in front of me. “He’s not getting to you, even if he gets inside.”
“You don’t know how violent he is,” I whisper as tears sting my eyes. I suck the waterworks back, not wanting to show Tristan my weaknesses. But then I realize he’s already seen some of them, so I let the tears fall.
“Avery.” The way he says my name, in a solemn whisper, floods my body warmth and erases my fear. The heat only surges greater when he reaches up and begins wiping the tears from my cheeks with his fingertips.
I’ve never had a guy do this for me before. Usually, they were the ones causing the tears. And it’s been so long since someone has taken care of me… so ridiculously long that I have no idea how to react.
“Avery.” This time, my name comes out in a husky tone.
I realize I’m leaning toward him. I could stop myself—stop what I’m about to do. There’s plenty of time to stop, but I find myself craving the distraction from the banging and yelling going on out front. Wanting the kiss, just wanting it. Plain and simple. It might be the worst timing in the world, but I’ve had perfectly timed kisses before and that got me nothing other than pain and heartache.
Tristan appears to not be as convinced as I am, because he starts to lean away. Before he can make it too far, I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him toward me again. That’s all it takes for his restraint to evaporate.
The moment our lips connect, I realize just how much I’ve been lying to myself. The kiss is anything but a friend kiss. It has fire. Passion. Heat. It has everything, including the magic ability to erase the pain inside me, to stop my scars from burning each time Conner shouts out my name.
Conner disappears, vanishes somewhere between the first sweep of our tongues and the sound of my whimper as Tristan nibbles at my lip. He rests his hand just under my breast, and my body arches as my nipples harden beneath my shirt.
Good God. I’m coming undone from a simple touch.
Starved.
I am starved.
For him.
“We should probably stop this,” he breathes against my mouth as I struggle to get oxygen in my lungs.
Stop?
No, please, no.
Fuck the rules.
Fuck everything.
I respond by scooting forward in the chair and opening my legs so he’s between them. He moans in response, his fingers gliding up my thighs. I tense as his hands arrive at the bottom of my shorts. I worry he’s going to take this farther than I want to. But instead of trying to feel me up, his fingers delve down into my flesh. With one swift movement, his hands slide up to my hips, and he desperately pulls me closer. Our tongues tangle, slow and sensual as our hands explore each other’s bodies.