Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Tristan reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. That was how half the movie kisses I’d filmed had started—more proof that people modeled the behavior they saw on the screen. Then he tugged on the end of my ponytail. “Can you undo that?”
Okay, so his voice was soft and husky. Maybe it made my pulse speed up a little—maybe. But it was all just conditioning.
My eyes never left his as I reached back and pulled out the elastic holder. Then I fluffed out my hair, letting it settle around my shoulders. Just because I didn’t believe in what we were doing didn’t mean I shouldn’t try to look nice for his sake. And I had to admit, when he stroked my hair, his fingertips brushing my scalp, it felt nice. I never denied that touching felt good—Drew’s certainly had. But it still felt like Tristan followed a script—one that everyone used and no one ever questioned.
Then he did that thing the actors did, too, where his eyes kept flicking to my lips. Okay, it kind of built anticipation, a little, but again, it was right out of the playbook.
Tristan raised himself up on his knees, one arm on the back of the couch and the other by my feet. It felt familiar when he crawled toward me, and I remembered Aiden Hunt doing the same thing in the sex scene we’d filmed last year.
But Tristan wasn’t being filmed. He didn’t have a mark to hit. Instead, he hovered over me, as if taking his time. As if savoring the moment.
But was he really? Or did he just feel like he was supposed to be?
His face was so close that I saw specks of gold in his blue eyes. I’d never noticed them before. I wondered what he saw in my green ones. There were some different hues if you looked hard enough—which he seemed to do.
In the spirit of giving his experiment a chance, I twisted my legs to the side, sliding them between the back of the couch and his. He couldn't kiss me very well if my knees were pulled protectively up to my chest. Or at least, he probably didn’t want to do it that way.
But now, I lay under him and he hovered over me—almost as if he was going to do a whole lot more than kiss me. But I didn’t let panic take over. I fought to keep my breathing slow and steady, like I did during yoga. I paid attention to my body and noted my pulse was faster and I wanted his hand in my hair again.
As if reading my mind, he obliged. Supporting himself with one hand, he grasped a handful of my hair and squeezed softly. I braced myself, waiting for him to yank my head into the position more suitable for him to take my mouth, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he brought his forehead to mine. His skin was warm and dry. I felt his soft breath on my face, and I noted a minty scent, perhaps from the mouthwash in the bathroom. He was careful to hold himself off of me, so while I was under him, I didn’t feel trapped.
Yet.
He released my hair and slid his thumb down my cheek until it reached my lips. Then he traced them, his skin tugging at my lips, stretching them slightly. “So soft,” he murmured.
As if of its own accord, my mouth opened slightly, and I froze, waiting to see if he’d push his thumb inside, but he didn’t. He just gazed at my lips as if he was prepared to do that forever.
Then he lowered his. At first, it was just a gentle pressure. No different than when he’d pressed his forehead against mine.
Except, it felt different. Very different.
Then he reached down and touched my hip, his fingers sliding under me. He scooted my legs toward the middle of the cushion and swung his leg over mine. Now he straddled me, holding himself in a pushup position. This time when he brought his lips near mine, he veered off, aiming for my neck.
I pulled my hair to the side, giving him room. Drew had done this, and it had felt great. Intimate, yes, but not as personal as mouth to mouth.
I moaned as he slid his mouth up and down my neck, nibbling and licking. My legs parted, but there wasn’t much room with his thighs on either side of mine. It was a nice feeling, being held in place without his actual weight on me.
His wavy hair brushed against my cheek as he caressed my neck, and giving into the impulse, I sank my hand into his hair. It felt good to squeeze a handful of it and let it slide out through my fingers. I could see why Drew and Tristan liked playing with my hair better when it was loose.