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“Do you want me to act jealous?” I ask. He gives me a lopsided smile. “Perhaps a little. Couldn’t hurt, could it?” “Tristan,” I whisper as I fall into role-play. “Yes.” “I thought we had something special. How could you do this to me?” He bites his lip to hide his smile. “That’s more like it.” “After all we’ve been through, I thought I was the one,” I whisper. He smiles broadly. He likes this game.
Period she ate that okay roleplay
“Did you go to the pharmacy today?” He chuckles. “I bought in bulk.”
Oh he said he's coming back prepared
We’ve been fucking for hours. Like animals, we can’t get enough. We finish and talk for a little while, and then he kisses me, and the entire process begins again.
“Kiss me,” he breathes. “I need you to kiss me.”
Ate that one thing
I turn my head to the side to get away. Damn it, he’s under my skin, and I need to get him off. “Hey,” he says. I keep my face to the side as I pant. Tears threaten. I’m completely overwhelmed. “Anderson.”
Aweee :( ik she's missing her estranged husband
“You fuck all right for an old duck.” That was the most unexpected thing I have ever heard. I smirk, then smile, and then break into a chuckle.
LOLLLLLLL
It’s three o’clock in the afternoon, and I hate to admit it, but Marley was right: this conference was exactly what I needed.
His eyes scan everyone in the room as he addresses us, and I wait for them to come my way. Look at me.
After one last wave, he leaves without looking back. I stare at the door he has just left through. Not even a goodbye? I drop my head. Fuck.
He prob didn't even leave
I swipe my key and walk into my room and frown. A huge bunch of red roses sits on the table, a small white card carefully pinned on the red ribbon.
AWEEEEEEE OMG STOP
WE HAVE UNFINISHED BUSINESS. COME TO PARIS FOR THE WEEKEND. xoxoxox
“Trolling for your next victim?” I tease. “Nobody here has what I want.” I bite my lip as I listen to him.
DAMNNNN HE ATE
“That a girl.
Is it not atta girl????
“Oh . . . and, Claire,” he says, as if it’s an afterthought. “Yes.” “Do your Kegel exercises tonight. I want that pussy nice and tight.”
Omg?????
And a week ago . . . I hated his guts . . . and maybe I still do. But there’s something about him that makes me want more.
“Nous devons obtenir une réponse à ce sujet puis-je avancer a ce sujet cette semaine,”
Hmm idk how I feel about this
“I do love your smart-ass mouth.” He pumps me with his hips once more. “I may have to fuck it later.”
“Be a good boy, and you might get what you want.” He smiles darkly. “Or be a bad boy, and take it anyway.”
I smile and pick up our hands and bring them to my mouth. I kiss hers and then shrug.
Such a cutie act of affection
“Answer my question,” she says. “I’m thirty-four.”
“I’ll have you know I’m not even old, Mr. Miles.” “How old are you?” “I’m thirty-eight.” I smile. “Only four years older than me.”
“In all seriousness, Tris, thank you.” “For what?” “For making me remember what it feels like to laugh.”
Suddenly I’m hit with an urgency to be alone with her. “Are you ready to go home, Anderson?” “Yes, I am, motherfucker.” I laugh out loud and pull her from the stool. “And just by chance, you’re a mother. How convenient.”
When I’m holding her in my arms like this, intimacy is running between us like a river, and just for a moment . . . She is mine.
“Why can’t I see your kids?” I run my fingers through his dark stubble. “You know why.” I kiss him softly. “We aren’t like that.” He stares down at me for a moment and then blinks, as if processing my words.
“You were the most beautiful thing I saw today, Tristan Miles.”
AWEEEEEE
“I don’t remember if I dated any beautiful women.” I frown. “Because,” he whispers as his eyes drop to my lips, “at this moment, all I can think about . . . is you.”
Omgggg
“I fixed it, Mom,” he announces. I smile. Fletcher likes to fix things. I think he thinks that’s what he should do as the man of the house.
Water is flying out of the bottom of the dishwasher; the entire floor is flooded, and it is running into the next room. “Ahh!” I yell. “Fletcher. Turn the water off.” He doesn’t reply, and I run to the linen closet and grab whatever I can to stop the house from flooding. “Fletcher!” I scream as I throw blankets onto the floor. “Quick.” He appears, and his face falls in horror as he sees the flooding.
Watch them stay at Tristan's house while they fix this
“Kissing you hello.” “Don’t.” “Why not?” He frowns. “Tristan.” I stare at him for a moment. He can’t be serious. “The dirty weekend was just that. One weekend. I don’t want anything with you.”
OMG WHAT?????
He turns my head and puts his mouth to my ear. “Guess what, Anderson?” he whispers. “What?” I smile. “We’re not over . . . till . . . I say we’re over.”
I love a MMC who doesn't give up
“Then we had banter for a few days, and I was still hating him. But surprisingly, he’s witty and funny.” “I knew he would be,” she interrupts. “Smart guys are always witty.”
Agreed
“Whose jocks are these that I found in your suitcase?” he yells as he spins Tristan’s briefs on his finger.
OH MY
I search for the address that Sammia found for me, and I frown. This is the right address. Huh? There are bikes and shit all over the front yard. I sit in the car for a moment and stare at the junkyard.
Damn thats mean
“Come inside, and let me get some ice,” Claire says. “You have to be kidding,” I snap as I pull my arm from her grip. “I am not going in that house. That kid is deranged. He almost killed me.” “He has anger-management issues,” the little kid says.
The carpet has huge wet patches . . . what happened there? Are they washing out a bloodstain?
LMFSOAAAOOAOAOAOAOAA
The kid stands on the couch across from me and lets the bear drop. It hangs by the noose. “Broken neck . . . he’s dead,” he whispers.
LMFAOAOAAOOAOAOA
“Tristan, come back.” I hop out onto the porch. “Goodbye, Claire,” I call. It was nice knowing you.
damn thats sad
My mind goes over this afternoon and what I saw at Claire’s house. I have no words. None that will make me less shocked, anyway. When she said she had three sons, I was picturing cute little kids who play with LEGOs.
She said we were at different stages of our lives, and I really didn’t understand what she meant. I get it now.
We could have had something. We could have had something fucking great. Claire Anderson is near perfect. However, the life she has . . . is not, and I don’t want to be around those feral kids for even ten minutes. I hate that she has to deal with them alone.
“I want to learn what to do and take over Anderson Media.” He pauses. “So she doesn’t have to work so hard.” I stare at him. “She does enough.” He scuffs his shoe on the carpet. “I don’t want her to have to worry anymore.”
omg im going to cry
“Just remember to be professional,” I remind him. “I know.” “And use your manners.” He rolls his eyes. “And if you get into trouble, what do you do?” “Go to the bathroom, and count to ten to calm down.” He sighs.
“I’m watching you,” I whisper. “I’ll tell you who to watch: that middle child of yours. The wizard.”
LMFAOOOAOOAOOAAOAOAOAOA
Before I lose my temper, I turn and storm from the office with my blood boiling in my veins. I can’t believe I was actually attracted to that jerk. What a fucking joke.
Oop
“I could always come to see you in your office tomorrow, Claire . . . on your desk.” “You mean at her desk,” Gabriel replies. Tristan gives me a slow, sexy smile. “I know what I meant.” Oh . . . fuck a duck.
OMGGGGGGGG
“I don’t want to see you because you’re a coward.” “How the fuck am I coward?” “One meeting with my children, and you run for the hills,” I blurt out before I put my brain-to-mouth filter on.
Well you seem to know everything, so I assume you moonlight as Siri.
BROOOOO IM CRACKIN UP
“Are you serious?” “Gabriel.” I sigh. Here we go—an hour-long lecture. “Fletcher wanted to work for them.” “Why wouldn’t he come and work for me?” he snaps. “I’m offended. Ferrara Media is where he should be.”
Teaaaa
“Stay at my house.” “No, I have a room booked.” “Where?” “The Edison at Times Square.” “Meet you there. Tell the desk that your husband is picking up a key.”
Omg stop this is so cute
