Shame (Ruin #3)(20)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“If we’re going to stay on the floor all night, the least you could do is toss me a pillow,” I joked, though my tone was anything but playful.

Her eyes heated for a second before she scurried off me.

My body flat out demanded I pull her back and keep her there. The loss I felt at her leaving was nothing short of ridiculous, but there it was.

Lisa sat on the bed and wrung her hands together while I stood and tried to hide the fact that her mouth was so damn arousing I was having trouble remembering all the reasons I couldn’t have her in the first place.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Lisa looked down at her hands and smiled. “You offering to sing me to sleep, Tristan?”

I sat down next to her. “You offering to let me?”

“That depends. How good of a singer are you?”

“Horrible,” I admitted with a soft chuckle. “But it may scare the bad dreams away.”

“And the girl too.” She nudged me with her elbow.

I full-on laughed. “Right, most likely send her screaming into the night. If it isn’t the label maker, it will most definitely be the hoarse singing.”

Lisa bit her lip and peered up at me through her hair.

I tucked it behind her ear, unable to stop my hands from moving before it was too late.

Her breath hitched; instinctively she wet her upper lip. I leaned in, my mouth hovering over hers.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered right before our mouths met.

I could taste her — taste all of her — and we hadn’t even touched yet. “Well, clearly it’s been a night for bad ideas, bad nightmares, and potentially bad singing. What’s one more thing?”

Her entire body tensed, and I knew, once again I’d lost her, lost her to whatever demons plagued her and, by association, plagued me.

With a lazy smile I pulled back and whispered, “Try to get some sleep, and in the morning…” I shrugged.

“In the morning things will look better? Is that what else you were going to say?”

I pressed forward, my lips grazing her ear. “Things rarely look better in the morning, but at least you have more energy to deal with them. Sleep.” Not kissing her was one of the hardest things I’d ever done as I retreated and repeated again, “Just let go and sleep.”

“’Kay.” A shiver raced through her slender body. “I’ll try.”

“If you scream again, me and my boxers will be waiting.” And many other things I didn’t care to mention.

Laughing, she crawled back under the covers. “Well, if that doesn’t set me at ease, I really don’t know what will.”

“Security system.” I winked and made my way toward the door. “State of the art. The only person getting in your room is me, and that’s only if you scream again…”

“If I scream, you come?”

I fought back a groan of frustration as I gripped the door handle, nearly pulling it free. When I turned, her smile was flirtatious, almost inviting. Damn it. Sinning never looked so good.

“Sure.” I tried to match her smile with one of my own. “Think of your scream as a bell… ring it and I’m here.” Really? That was all I had in response?

“Thanks…” She lay down on the pillow. “…for everything.”

Guilt stabbed me square in the chest as I gave a curt nod and shut the door behind me.

What the hell was I doing?

I had no flipping clue.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“He tried to commit suicide,” Mel said numbly the next day.

I’d just been discharged from the hospital, and she was driving me to my penthouse, the one place I’d let her see that wasn’t owned by good ol’ Dad, though he’d paid up-the-ass for it to keep his dirty little secret happy.

“So?” I shrugged, tossing a pain pill in my mouth. “That’s not the first time it’s happened. Surely won’t be the last. Think of it as us helping groom him for life.”

“Tay!” Mel shook her head. “We can’t — I can’t… I can’t keep doing this. It’s not fun. I mean, can’t we just do normal things like go to the movies?”

“What’s really bothering you?” I asked, finally turning toward her ghostlike face.

She chewed her lower lip and looked down. “I got in.”

“What?”

“I applied to college, Tay. I got in.” —The Journal of Taylor B.

Lisa

I RUBBED MY eyes and gripped my cell phone. Blurry vision and caked-on mascara, not a good combination. Finally, the fuzziness of the screen dissipated, and I was able to see the time.

Six in the morning.

I set the phone back on the stand and groaned. The last thing I wanted to do was get out of the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept in and take the walk of shame down the hall and let my professor — ha! — my sexy professor — drive me to school.

I groaned again.

He’d been right. The morning hadn’t made it better, but I did feel like I had a bit more energy to tackle the day. I sent a quick text to Gabe so he knew I was all right and slowly rose from bed.

Yawning, I padded over to the door and quickly peered into the hall to see if I could hear any movement or indication that Tristan was up.

Nothing.

Just as I was about to go back into the room, I looked down. A pair of jeans, white T-shirt, and TOMS shoes were sitting in a neat pile on the floor; a yellow knit cap topped off the pile with a note attached:

For you.

That was it. Just… For you. Cryptic, even though I knew they couldn’t be from anyone but Tristan. When I went to pick up the pile, I noticed a toothbrush stashed beneath the shirt, along with some toothpaste.

The guy was either used to one-night stands or… yeah that was all I had, used to one-night stands. People didn’t look like Tristan Blake and not have one-night stands. Besides, clearly he was important, had loads of money, and lived in paradise.

I lifted the clothes to my nose to make sure they didn’t smell like some other chick’s perfume, only to get caught by a throat clearing.

“Have I somehow given you the impression that I’d give you someone else’s clothes?”

Slowly I lifted my gaze. Tristan stood in front of me holding a cup of coffee, and wearing nothing but a pair of gray track pants that rode low on his hips. He blew across the cup. My knees again decided it would be a good time to shake a bit as I took in his perfectly sculpted chest and abs.