I STILL LOVE YOU, BUT...

CHAPTER 21

TRISTAN

Amanda's mum has put me in the guestroom next to Amanda's bedroom. It is a comfortable room with a single bed, a gray sofa and a bookshelf overflowing with books.

It's torture staying in this room with Amanda so near and yet so far. Where I can hear the drumming of the shower spray through my bedroom wall and know that she's close, that she's naked, drops of heated water trickling over those strawberry-tipped breasts, down that creamy, silken body, running down low, lower still to her --- God --- I adjust the hard, throbbing length in my pants, put my head in my hands and groan --- I need to get my girl back to London soonest possible, I don't think I can take it much longer.

I walk into the sitting room, and there she is. She's blinding, she's so beautiful, and for a second, I can't breathe.

She tilts her face, those big blue eyes fixed solely on me. And just like that, my mechanical, workaholic heart flips over in my chest, and the screws that are holding it in place in my rib cage fly off, go scattering, and the confounded, besotted organ starts rattling crazily like a runaway train, careening off the tracks, hurtling out of control.

My hand grips her elbow first. Then smooths up to her shoulder. And even through the thick layer of fabric, I can feel her warmth. Her soft skin.

There are reasons why I shouldn't be holding her so scandalously close, right here, within earshot of her mum, bustling in the kitchen, and her dad, who's just popped outside, and should be back any minute, but right now, I've forgotten them all.

"You're just in time for tea," she says a little breathlessly.

"I...love...tea..." My head dips and I trace my nose along her hairline. She smells so good, I want to bottle her and spray her on my pillow. Heck, I want to spray her on my body. Carry her with me wherever I go. Rub her on me whenever I miss her. Inhale her when I miss her.

Tristan Remington. Is. Seriously. Fucked. Up.

Her fingers clutch at my waist, tugging my shirt. Pulling me closer. Closer.

"Really?" She shivers, legs wobbling where she stands.

"Really." I nip at her earlobe. Trail my hand down her neck. Feel her pulse beating maniacally in her throat.

She's melting against me, as desperate for me as I am for her.

"Amanda." My palm spreads over her back. Anchors her tight to me, so tight my heart slams against my rib cage trying to reach her. "I'm going to kiss you now."

"Oh." It comes out in a little squeak. "Um, okay, but --- " and that's all she can say, because I'm kissing her, my mouth on her mouth, my hands in her hair.

The kiss is desperate. Hungry. Feral.

And that's the thing. I can't go an hour without kissing her. I need her like air. The thought of not seeing her, of going even an hour without seeing her, is enough to drive me insane.

"Tea's ready!" her mum calls out breezily from the kitchen, and we spring apart like guilty teens caught making out.

"Okay, Mum!" Amanda sounds dazed. Her eyes are glassy, fixed on mine. Her cheeks are bright pink.

I claw a hand through my hair, breathing hard.

I'm a maelstrom of emotion and hunger, a twisted mess of raw need.

Tea. I need tea. Breathe. One. Two. Breathe again. Three. Four.

"Is Tristan coming?"

Amanda darts a naughty glance at the bulge in my pants and giggles.

"Oh, yes."

"I was this close," I whisper in Amanda's ear, demonstrating a half-inch gap between my thumb and my forefinger, before pressing a final, hard kiss on her mouth. She gasps, and I laugh softly, giving her soft, sweet buttock a fond squeeze as she brushes past me to the kitchen.