He grimaced. “Well, let’s see. Cory told me that you nearly beat a man to death for basically touching her arm.”
That made me laugh. The truth was crazy enough. No one needed to be making anything up, but it was amusing. I knew that Cory was just exaggerating to make his point.
“He told me not to flirt with her, or curse in front of her.” I did not have a problem with either of those pieces of advice, so I just nodded at him to go on. “And then Kenny told me that you nearly castrated a guy for standing too close to her. Said you stage dived into him, stopped a whole performance for it.”
I was clutching my stomach, laughing too hard to hold it in.
“And Kenny also told me not to talk about how hot she is, or make any comments about any part of her body, even after I see her dance, and if I do see her dance, definitely never mention it to you.”
That was very sound advice, I thought.
“What about Dean? What was his advice?” I was only asking because Cory and Kenny’s advice had lightened my mood. They were good friends.
“Nothing useful and nothing I care to repeat. I know that Dean is full of shit, so I usually do the opposite of whatever he says is a good idea. He’d watch me get my ass kicked just for a good laugh. No offense, man, but basically, I plan to stay as far away from her as possible. Hell, I plan to avoid looking at her. Speak when spoken to, also seems to be a good idea.”
I clapped him on the shoulder, more cheerful than I’d been in ages. If only every man in the world could take a page from Adair’s book. “On the contrary, my man, that’s just what I prefer.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
DANIKA
I mingled. It wasn’t my favorite thing, but this was the kind of party that called for it. The only people I knew at the function were in high demand, my boyfriend and Frankie, a famous TV personality, included.
I was in L.A. for the weekend, coming to Tristan instead of him coming to me, for a change. It took me less than five minutes at one L.A. party to know that this was not the place for me. I’d thought Vegas was bad, but L.A .was the pretentious version of it.
We were at some stranger’s house again, but this house was being rented out, and had actual art on the walls, and so the people thought that it had substance.
I wound up talking to a freckled, red-headed model that had a great set of legs and a wicked sense of humor. We hit it off right away when she made some wisecrack about the house’s owner needing to hide all of the mirrors on account of all the cokeheads in L.A.
“Do you know the band?” I asked her finally, making small talk. I didn’t figure many of the people at the party would actually know them, since they hadn’t finished recording their first album.
“Oh yeah. Love them. The lead singer is smokin’.”
I smiled ruefully, totally used to that. “He is that.”
“He’s great in bed, too. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, with that one. Can go all night.”
That had me controlling my breath, and steadying my voice, with effort. “When did you sleep with him?”
She waved her hand. “Oh, ages ago. Years. Met him in a club in Vegas. We holed up for like two weeks, hardly even left the room, fucked each other’s brains out. Wouldn’t mind a repeat performance, but I hear he has a girlfriend now. Maybe I’ll screw their new lead guitar. He’s fucking hot.”
“I haven’t met that one.” My tone was casual, crisis averted, though I knew it wasn’t a good sign that I still had doubts about the man that I loved.
“Hmm, he is yummy, but it’s like a downgrade. Tryst was killer in bed.”
Oh Lord, I thought, I don’t want to hear this.
“We did everything there is to do to each other. The man is dirty.”
I wanted to plug my ears, or hell, stab out my eardrums. Instead, I made polite noises, and tried to block her out.
“First guy I ever let fuck me in the ass. We couldn’t get enough of each other. He wanted to do everything to me. And it hurt, because he’s got a big fucking dick, but I still let him do it. It’s hard to say no to a man that gives you that many orgasms.”
I wanted to throw up, or even just find the will to walk away from this woman’s unwanted verbal diarrhea. She continued on, oblivious, “I even grabbed a friend one night to join us. I swear to God, he wore us both out.”
“Excuse me,” I finally said, just walking away when she started to wax poetic about his tongue.
I didn’t find the woman’s candid charm so charming anymore.
I basically hid out after that, avoiding mingling, avoiding all human contact, just sitting out back on one of the free lounges, trying to enjoy the perfect weather, the gorgeous view, and the light ocean breeze.
I failed.
Instead, I stewed about what some random chick had told me about things that had happened before I’d even met Tristan. I knew it was pathetic, and I made a promise to myself that I was not going to turn it into a thing. Not a fight thing. Not a drama thing. Not a thing at all, because I’d known about his past before I’d ever touched the man.
And still, I stewed. For some reason, my mind had fixated on the act he’d done with some random chick that he’d never even mentioned wanting to do to me.
He’d wanted to do everything to her, she’d said.
Couldn’t get enough of each other, she’d said.
Tristan found me there hours later. I was still just staring out at the ocean, even though it had long since gotten dark.
He hunkered down beside me, studying me like he was gaging my mood. I knew that didn’t say good things about me, that I was so volatile he had to constantly assess.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.
I just nodded, not particularly wanting to talk to him, or even look at him. I hoped I was starting my period or something, something that could account for me being so moody, and wanting only to withdraw into myself.
“You ready to go to bed? They rented the place out for the night, and they reserved this amazing room for us. The party will probably go on all night, but I feel like I’ve done enough ass kissing to get a pass on the rest.”
I smiled weakly. “Sure.”
“You feel okay? You look a little woozy.”
“I’m a little nauseous. Lying down should help.”
“Want anything to eat or drink? They’re well stocked here.”
I just shook my head, standing up.
He immediately draped his arm over my shoulders, leading me into the house. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much company for you. I turned around and you were gone, and then I didn’t have a spare second to look for you.”
“Don’t worry about it. It was your party. You should get to do whatever you want.” I knew as soon as I said it that it sounded petulant, and I wanted to take it back.
“Hey now,” he said softly. “If I got to do what I wanted, I’d have been with you all night, now wouldn’t I?”
I didn’t answer, just feeling tired.
“Did you meet anyone interesting?”
I met a model that said you were the first man she ever did anal with, I wanted to say, but no good could come of it, so I managed to hold my tongue.
“Yeah. Some entertaining people around here,” I said instead.
“Are you upset? It feels like you’re upset with me.”
“I just don’t feel well. A good night’s sleep will help.”
We were laying down, the room dark, sounds from the party still drifting to us when he said, “I’d always rather have you tell me what’s wrong, instead of keeping it bottled up. You know that, right? Whatever it is, I’d always rather know.”
I sighed, knowing there was a short timer on how long I could keep my feelings to myself. There always had been. “Do you ever feel like you can’t get enough of me, Tristan?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want to do everything to me?”
“What are we talking about? I thought you weren’t feeling well.”
“Not tonight. I mean, just in general. Do you ever want to hole up in bed for two weeks and not let me out?”
I felt him shifting on the bed, then draping himself over my still form, his lips going to the top of my head for a brief kiss. “That sounds like a kidnapping. If this is you somehow asking how much I want you, you’re being silly. I want you to the point of insanity. I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. Two weeks in bed? That’s nothing. I’d keep you in bed for the rest of our lives, if there were any feasible way to do that. And I don’t feel like I’ll ever get enough of you; I know that I won’t. Now what is this all about?”
“How come you’ve never even tried to…?” I couldn’t even finish the sentence, not even in the dark, when I’d already embarrassed myself.
“Tried to what? Lock you in my bedroom? Don’t think I won’t, boo, now that you just gave me your permission.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“No…that isn’t what I was going to say.” I shut my eyes tight, hating that I could never keep any stupid thing to myself. “I met this model tonight, and she said that you guys stayed in bed together for two weeks, and did everything. She said you couldn’t get enough of her.”
I felt him stiffen. “Sweetheart, I haven’t touch—“
“It was years ago, she said. She has red hair, freckles, and great legs. Do you remember her?”
“Is it good or bad that your description doesn’t even ring a bell?”
I didn’t know the answer to that. “I wasn’t fishing for information from her. We were just chatting and she came out with all of that, and then went into detail about all the crazy things you did to each other. It just got me thinking.”
“Uh-oh.”
I slapped his closest body part, the shoulder behind me. “And I started to wonder if you’ve been holding back on me, if there were other things you wanted to do, that you’ve done with other women.” I had a thought. “She said you had a threesome.”
He cursed. “We are not fucking doing that.”
“No, no, I wasn’t suggesting we do that. It just occurred to me that you’d been a lot more wild before me, and that you might get bored with how much your sex life has toned down in our relationship.”
His hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, and his voice when he spoke was cold. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s not the novelty of an act that makes a thing exciting, Danika, it’s the feeling behind it. I guarantee that if I had a threesome with some chick I don’t remember, it wasn’t because I couldn’t get enough of her.
You’re the only one I’ve felt like this with, and it’s the most exciting feeling in the world. Nothing has toned down for me. Just the opposite. You’re making it sound like it’s not wild enough for you. Tell me, what kind of things are you used to doing?” He’d really worked himself up by the last sentence.
I wondered briefly why I worried about being a jealous nutcase, when Tristan could always manage to top me. “Nothing. I’ve never been wild at all, and you know it.”