Bittersweet Chocolate (26 page)

“Marissa—”

“Damn.”

He regarded her curiously before continuing. “When I arrived, you didn’t notice me peek into the bathroom. Lost in your secret thoughts again...what...memories from your childhood, the recent nightmares, why won’t you tell me?” He frowned. “Is there someone special from your past consuming your every waking thought?”

“Hardly my every thought. You’re on my mind―”

“Marissa, you know what I mean. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Shit! He really had the dreaded-Marissa thing going on. She had to come up with something plausible. The alternative was to tell him everything. She wasn’t ready to deal with that.

“Tris, I’m afraid of losing you. For two people who’ve known each other for such a short time, our relationship has been on a fast track, the intensity overwhelming.”

“Marissa.”

She raised her hand. “No, let me finish,” she pleaded. “Tris, I honestly believe you love me, and I hope you believe I love you, but I’m afraid it’s not going to last.” Shaking her head, she sighed. “I feel more deeply about you than I’ve felt about anyone in quite a long time. It would devastate me if we couldn’t make it last.”

You go, girl!

Giving her his best you-really-don’t-expect-me-to-believe-that smirk, he said, “Come on, Rissa, let’s be realistic. Things happen. We have to live every moment as it comes. Don’t think the worse.”

She retorted, “Tris, what do you want from me, I’m trying. But the last time...”

“Last time?”

Smooth move, motor mouth.

With a quick smile, she shook her head and said, “It can wait. I’m hungry.”

“Uh-uh, not so fast, what last time, what about it. Don’t stop,” he urged. “Tell me.”

* * * *

Tristan stood, came around the table, and squatted down next to her chair. She stared down at her plate, but he grabbed her chin, grip tightening. He turned her to face him, then jerked his hand away. He didn’t think he’d been rough, yet the look in her eyes, it was quick, a flicker, gone in a flash.

“Rissa, what?”

“Nothing.”

His voice was edged with tension. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t realize I’d gripped you that hard.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Come on, you’re too tough for such a light touch...damn you, talk to me.” Her eyes closed for a moment, and when she reopened them, she gave him her sweetest smile.

“No you don’t, talk to me. When I grabbed you, tell me what brought on that look of fear, wariness...” His eyes narrowed while he rooted around in his mind for understanding, then it hit him. “Rissa, you didn’t think...you thought I intended to hit you!” He couldn’t keep the angry surprise out of his voice. “I would never...Rissa, I’d never intentionally hurt you.”

“I know you won’t,” she said quietly, keeping her gaze lowered. “Let’s eat.”

“The hell with the food, look at me, talk to me.” She gave him a brief glance before returning her gaze to the table. Picking up her fork, she toyed with her food, and he watched in silence, until another thought occurred to him.

Lips pursed and teeth clenched to suppress his rage, he didn’t want to believe what he was thinking. “Marissa, some man from your past hurt you. That’s it, isn’t it?”

She turned and stared into his eyes, and her look—gone before he could put a name to it. She tried to avert her gaze, but he wouldn’t let her. Seeing the sadness reflected in her eyes and tears not far beneath the surface, he stood and pulled her from the chair. He held her close, her face pressed against his chest, body stiff and unyielding.

“Rissa, help me out here. Some man in your past what...hit―no, beat you?” He’d returned to the shouting.

Her reaction when he grabbed her, damn straight, there had to be more than just a hit to have spooked her. She was too tough, she would have retaliated, fought back, and probably would’ve come out the winner, leaving nothing to dwell on, years later. Without comment from her, he couldn’t fathom why any man would have hit, beat, abused her, or any woman.

Tristan released his hold, grasped her hand, and tugged her back into the bedroom. He sat on the bed, pulled her down beside him, wrapped his arms around her, and just held her, giving her a moment to collect her thoughts. He wasn’t dropping the subject. He wanted answers. What he suspected pissed him off.

After several minutes of sitting passively, he readjusted his position, leaned back against the headboard, and pulled her close. “Honey, don’t you trust me?”

Tears came then. Cradling her in his arms, whispering soothing words, he let her cry, dinner forgotten.

He opened his eyes. She wasn’t there.

Realizing he must have dozed off, he bolted upright, saw her sitting in a chair across from the bed, watching him, and he relaxed. “What time is it?”

“Midnight.”

“Come to bed. We need to talk.”

“What about your trip in the morning? You need to get some sleep.”

“Damn. Finding you in the tub when I came in distracted me. You seemed to be waiting for me,” he remarked. “One thing led to another and I never got around to telling you the trip has been postponed until next week.”

She stood and he watched her approach, captivated by the sight of her, so damn sexy. Just looking at her made him hard. Sadly, hidden beneath the sexuality teetered a woman on the brink of becoming a basket case, because she feared revealing some truth about her past. But the time had come to tell all. If the truth turned out to be something he couldn’t deal with, why prolong the agony. It would be better if he left before they became more involved.

For several minutes they stared at each other, him waiting with dread. She must have come to a decision, because she heaved a sigh of resignation.

“Tris, I’m hungry.”

His eyes widened with disbelief. “Rissa...” He burst out laughing. “Only you would come up with something so off the wall, at a time like this. Fine, I’ll feed you, and then we will talk.”

“Okay.” She turned and sauntered from the door.

Stunned by her quick agreement, he remained motionless, watching her leave the room, then surprise turned to suspicion. He leapt off the bed. “Hey, wait a minute.” He caught up with her. “We’re going to talk about everything that’s bothering you, right?”

“Yes, all my deep, dark secrets.”

He stared, amazed by her calm. A few hours ago she’d been frantic to keep her secrets to herself. A twinge of unease put him on alert.

* * * *

Marissa reheated their food, her thoughts in turmoil. Where should she begin...get the worst part out of the way, first? If he could accept that, everything else would be a breeze. Or should she start at the beginning and cautiously work her way up to the worst?

They ate in companionable silence.

While they lingered over their wine, Tristan broached the subject. “Rissa, are you ready to talk, or do you need more time?”

“No, I don’t need any more time. Let’s go into the living room and get comfortable. This is going to take a while.”

He took her hand and led her toward the sofa. They had settled down with her snuggled up against him and his arms wrapped around her. She sighed, drawing comfort and strength from his closeness, and closed her eyes.

“Tris, we’re from such totally different worlds, and my being a bit older...well, I’ve done things even I don’t fully comprehend,” she acknowledged. “Once I’ve told you everything, I don’t see how you could possibly understand.”

“Cut the bullshit. Granted, for experience, there’s some disparity, but I’m mature enough to deal with your past without being judgmental,” he asserted. “For me, the diversity has been a learning curve, not an analysis of the right or the wrong way. I can listen with an open mind.

“And yes, our relationship is intense. It’s not like anything I’ve experienced before, but we’ll get through this. Dahlin’, I love you.”

Marissa cringed. His unconscious use of his southern drawl usually indicated excitement or anger. On occasion, the unintentional drawl peppered his speech when uneasy. Poor baby, he didn’t have a clue that she was about to rock his world with some deep shit, way outside his realm of comprehension. She hoped he’d spoken the truth about them getting through it. Hell, he believed it, and he’d need his optimism and beliefs before she finished.

“Rissa, is it that bad?”

“Oh yeah, it’s beyond bad, and I’m not entirely blameless.” She snuggled closer, inhaled a deep breath, and let it out in a rush. “Besides, if we expect our relationship to continue, we need to be honest with each other. The bits and pieces I’ve told you about my life so far are nothing compared to what you’re about to hear.

“Keep in mind, as a teenager, I used to be headstrong, arrogant, and a tease. Only considered my feelings, what I wanted, and thought I epitomized tough. My concern about revealing my past is you’ll be disgusted.”

“Come on, Marissa, I’d never—”

“No, don’t say it until you’ve heard everything. Let me tell this without interruption, before I lose my nerve. You see, the daydreams and nightmares seem to stem from the past, but there’s something else, and I don’t know why, but it bothers me.” She paused, trying to visualize that last dream. “The recent dreams seem like premonitions. From past experience, I know stuff like what I’m about to tell you can come back and bite you in the ass. So yeah, it’s time I share this with you, before we go any further with our association.”

Marissa placed her hand in his and he tightened his grip, hugged her a little tighter. She sighed and spoke in a low, modulated tone.

“It began a few weeks after my sixteenth birthday. I attended a party where I met Joel Raines. If I’d been a little more cautious back then...” She stopped and stared down at their clasped hands, realized she was rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb, smiled, and stopped her nervous fidgeting.

“Rissa...”

“Sorry,” she whispered. “During the first year and a half that Joel and I dated, everything seemed great between us, but as soon as we graduated from high school, things started to change. God, I thought I was so smart, thought I knew everything. I was wrong.”

She stopped talking, sighed, and shook her head. “Talk about being stupid, like all my street smarts and natural instincts had vanished. I’m embarrassed to admit how dumb I behaved.”

Tristan stretched and glanced at the clock over the fireplace. “Rissa, it’s after midnight. Let’s go to bed. You’ve been talking for a few hours, you must be exhausted.” He smiled and kissed the side of her neck. “Listen. I have a great idea. Let’s take the day off, pack a picnic lunch, go to the park, and laze around. You can finish your story then. Agreed?”

“Sounds good to me.” She yawned.

“Rissa, don’t play me. I want to know the rest. There has to be a lot more to all this tension in you. After the way you duked it out with Joel, just for slapping you,” he teased and squeezed her hand. “Oh, hell yeah, your reactions say there’s much more.”

She turned and raised her face for a kiss, but he held her at bay. “Don’t try to put me off. If I can, I want to help you put an end to all your angst, and get on with our lives without these shadows looming over us.” She didn’t respond but cuddled closer to him and eased her hand down into his pajama bottoms. He grabbed her wrist. “Honey, don’t do this to me. We’re both tired. We need to get some sleep.”

Ignoring his entreaty, she brought him to a complete state of arousal with several deft strokes of her hand and fingers, then trailed kisses down his chest and abdomen. He didn’t try to stop her, until her tongue darted out to touch his glans. Fingers fisted in her hair, he tried to tug her away.

“Rissa.” His face contorted in agony when her hands splayed across his abs and she worked him until the spasmodic contraction of his muscles heralded his climax. “Oh no,” came out a tortured whisper. He pulled her head away, urging her upward until their faces were inches apart.

“Tris, let me.”

He held her face between his hands, thumbs gently caressing the corners of her mouth while he searched her eyes. Leaning forward, he devoured her mouth, the kiss deep, searing, poignant. She jerked away and drew a deep, agonizing breath.

“Please,” she coaxed.

* * * *

Her slightly swollen lips parted and the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. His gaze became riveted on her sensuous mouth with those pouty lips that seemed poised for kissing and erotic intimacies. Trailing his index finger across her lips, he coaxed them further apart, and his finger intruded on the warmth within. Her lips closed around that finger, gradually drawing it into her mouth. With a gentle sucking motion, her tongue teased and tasted, giving him a preview of what her mouth was capable of doing.

Shaken by the thought, he eased his finger from her mouth, a slow, deliberate withdrawal, and their gazes collided, piercing and passion-filled. He put his damp finger to his own lips and her eyes shifted to his mouth. His tongue circled his fingertip before he slipped it into his mouth and eased it out, his suggestive action giving her his answer.

Tristan kissed her once more before he released his hold. She moved down over him and he braced himself. Closing his eyes to block out the sight of her actions, he hoped to maintain a level of control―not. He visualized her every move.

Tongue teasing his glans, her hands settled at the base of his cock, ten fingers wrapped around his shaft. Hands shifting slowly back and forth in opposite directions, tenderly squeezing, he lost the struggle and opened his eyes. He watched her lean forward, lips parting. She didn’t make contact but her breath huffed out, bathing the glans in warmth. Tensing, he lifted his hips in anticipation. Her sweet lush mouth enveloped him, suckling, soft licks, and her teeth made gentle grazing swipes. The tip of her tongue glided along the v-shape where shaft met glans, her head bobbing, and his hips kept pace.

Grip tightening, she jerked him off, mouth and fingers in sync, tight throat and heat encircling him. Muscles clenching, his hands fisted her hair. The soft noises she made in her throat vibrated around his shaft and jacked his libido to its limits. “Rissa...” Sperm jetted out in pulsing streams, and she accepted every drop.