Tempting Tristan by Melissa Foster

Author:Melissa Foster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: New Adult, Romance, M/M
Publisher: World Literary Press
Published: 2016-09-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alex

“WHAT WORRIED YOU the most about me seeing your leg?” Tristan asks as we step out of the shower the next morning. He dries off and pulls on a pair of cargo shorts. The man has more clothes than anyone I’ve ever known.

He offered me a pair of his shorts earlier, but I’m nowhere near ready for that. It’s hard enough getting used to the sight of my injured leg and the changes to my lifestyle. I can no longer run for miles or ride my motorcycle all day without experiencing a dull ache. I don’t whine over it, but it’s an adjustment. When I was in the hospital everyone told me I was lucky not to have lost the limb. They’re right, and I fully appreciate that aspect, but it doesn’t mean there isn’t an adjustment period just the same.

“If you laugh I will kill you,” I warn, reaching for my jeans.

He arches a brow. “A little confident, aren’t you?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” I step closer, unable to keep my hands off the man, and tug him against me. I never had a best friend when I was growing up, and I never went to slumber parties or had a sibling to bat shit around with. I’ve never known love that stems from friendship in the same depths that Tristan has with his friends. But waking up with Tristan in my arms, I feel like I’m blessed with the best of those things all rolled up into one incredible man. I cup his junk and give it a squeeze. He goes hard in my hand.

“You won’t kill me,” he says with a playful grin. “You love my cock too much.”

I feign thinking about that and lift my eyes to the ceiling.

“Fair enough.” I give him a chaste kiss and pull on my jeans. We made love again last night and this morning.

“So?” Undeterred by the deadpan stare I give him in response, he arches a brow.

His hair is still wet from the shower, and he runs his hand through it, pushing it away from his hard-on-inducing handsome face. I’ve spent years locked away in a fortress, and in no time at all he’s scaled the gates, crept inside, and begun opening my blackout curtains.

“I don’t feel whole,” I say sharply. “And I hate you seeing me as less of a man.”

He buttons my jeans for me, cups my balls, and says, “The way you fucked me last night? You are no longer allowed to use those words when speaking about yourself.”

He tosses me one of his clean T-shirts and I shrug it on. It’s tight across my chest and biceps. I lift my arm and flex, and the material strains. Tristan laughs.

“About that less of a man shit…” He grabs my hand, and we follow the aroma of coffee to the kitchen. Tristan grabs two mugs, fills them, and slides one to me. “Cream? Sugar?”

“You’re the only cream I take, sugar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Come on.”

I follow him out to the deck, where Wyatt and Cassidy are standing at the railing looking out at the water.

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