9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Tristan has been huffing and puffing away in the bedroom for over an hour. Lying on the sofa, my makeshift bed for the night, I can hear his frustrated murmurs. At least ten times, I’ve been tempted to go in there and ask him what’s troubling him. But I held strong. I’m better off staying away from him. The more time I spend with him, the stronger my attraction becomes. My self-control reached its peak this evening. Countless times, I had to clench my fist tightly to resist the temptation of touching him. I held up my palms, inspecting them. Yep, those were definitely nail imprints, clear as day. But I just have to keep reminding myself that I am not someone who gets involved in relationships, especially not with my son’s best friend.
With all the lights turned off, it’s just me and the flickering fire. The familiar sounds of the fireplace popping and crackling, which usually bring me comfort, cannot calm my restless mind tonight. I’ve spent many nights on the sofa throughout the years, but I can’t quite seem to settle. My stomach feels like it’s tied up in knots. With one arm tucked under my head and the spare blanket draped over me, I gaze up at the beam stretching across the cabin. The estate agent thought I was crazy when I told her to find me something I could fix up.
“But Mr Brooker, we have plenty of cabins that are all ready and perfectly furnished. Why don’t I show you them?”
My eyes didn’t waver as I told her, “If you can’t find me what I’m asking for, then I’ll find someone who can.”
“Oh no, no, Mr Brooker, I’ll find you what you want,” she said through her fake smile and gritted teeth.
Two weeks later, I was heading out here. The memory of my first visit to this cabin twenty-one years ago still lingers in my mind. Pulling up outside, the untamed vegetation had taken over completely, obscuring the exterior of the cabin. Opening the door, a musty scent of damp wood filled the air, tainted by the faint odour of rot. The windows, showing signs of age, could no longer keep the rainwater out. Countless holes marked the main beam, worn and weathered, left behind by the woodworm. It was too far gone to save, so it was the first thing I changed. The run-down condition of the place was exactly what I had been searching for—a project that I could restore and pour my love into. Rough around the edges, but sturdy. Something that was mine.
It lacked the opulence of the big house my parents had helped us buy years ago, right before Jake was about to be born. This purchase definitely did not meet with my mother’s approval. But if I was going to accept my parents’ birthday gift, I’d made it clear this place was what I wanted. I needed this cabin.
I cherish my little sanctuary, a place of tranquillity, far removed from the chaos of daily existence. Summers with Jake made the rest of the year bearable as we filled them with laughter and adventure. It’s definitely been lonelier without him these past few years, but I hope one day Jake will bless me with grandchildren who will have the opportunity to grow up in this place as well.
I direct my body towards the sofa, take off my glasses, and close my eyes in an effort to try to sleep.
And then I hear it. The soft pad-pad-pad of Tristan’s feet. I can’t see him, but I know he’s there.
“What’s wrong?”
The next thing I know, he has laid himself on the sofa, his slim frame finding its way snugly up against mine, creating a perfect fit behind me. What the hell?
“I’m cold. I can’t sleep when I’m cold.” The constant chattering of his teeth interrupts his words. Fuck, he really is freezing. I should have added more logs to the fire. I dare not move, though, as I feel his cool body pressed against my bare skin.
“Umm, maybe you could put a jumper on?” I suggest, trying to distance myself from him, fighting the temptation to roll over and embrace his body, providing him with the warmth he craves.
“Don’t have one,” he shivers.
If I close my eyes, I can pretend this is all just a dream. A wonderful, tempting one, but just a dream. “Borrow one of mine?”
I feel the warmth of his breath against my neck when he speaks. “I’ll get too hot. I can’t sleep when I’m hot, either.”
What is this? Goldilocks and the Three Bears ? Too hot, too cold! Except in my story, he takes on the role of the defenceless little red fox, while I become the ravenous wolf, eager to consume him.
After a couple of minutes of him restlessly shifting behind me, inadvertently pressing himself against my back and me attempting to block out any thoughts about the placement of his dick, I decide we can’t stay like this. There’s simply not enough room for both of us to get a good night’s sleep here. I need space. He’s making it difficult for me to maintain self-control and not touch him.
“Tris?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s get you back to bed.”
“I’m only going if you come with me. You’re toasty warm and I already feel sleepy. I didn’t sleep well last night either.”
Bloody hell.
“C’mon, get up.” As he moans and stands up, I shiver as a gust of cool air brushes against my back, a stark reminder of the absence of his skin touching me. Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I quickly spin around, my feet connecting with the solid wooden floor. I slide my glasses back onto my face, and there, in front of me, is Tristan, looking elegant in his cream silk pyjamas. Shorts and a short-sleeved button-up top, leaving very little to the imagination. His curly hair is even more untamed. The fire behind him lights up his figure, making him look positively stunning.
Fuck me.
I want him in a way that makes my heart race and my palms sweat. I crave him. As I take in every inch of him, I imagine how his naked body would look, creamy and inviting, sprawled on the rug beneath him.
Tristan rubs his bare arms, reminding me he’s cold.
“Let’s go,” I grit.
Thankfully, he obediently follows my instructions and quietly returns to the bedroom. I move stealthily behind him, taking the opportunity to rearrange myself subtly without him catching on.
I pull back the cover and gently pat the bed. “Hop in.”
Tris hurries over to the side of the bed, but before getting in, he looks up at me with a questioning gaze. “You’re getting in too, right?”
There’s something enchanting about the pools of his deep blue eyes that draw me in. My nod instantly brightens his sleepy face with delight. He eagerly leaps onto the bed, pulling the soft covers up to his neck. I tenderly tuck the cover around him, ensuring that he’s shielded from the chilly air. With just his head on the pillow, he looks as snug as a bug. As I walk to the other side of the bed, I feel his sleepy, seductive gaze following my every move.
After settling myself as far away from him as humanly possible, I take a deep breath and feel a wave of relief wash over me. This is fine. It’s all good. I can be beside him in a way that allows him to sleep peacefully. It’s a good deed that I’m doing. I’m just doing what a good housemate should do. Anybody else would have done the same. It’s only natural to want your friend to be happy. Yeah, friends, I can be his friend. I’ll just wait until he drifts off to sleep, and then I’ll quietly slip back to the couch.
The soft glow of the side lamp disappears as Tris reaches over and switches it off, leaving the room in utter darkness. The bed is being bumped and jiggled by his constant shifting. Frustrated, he lets out a sigh and fidgets. Tossing and turning, he thumps his pillows, desperately trying to find a comfortable spot.
Another sigh escapes my lips. This one is throwing in the towel. The one where I know I’ve given in. I have shattered my own boundaries. Tris needs comfort. I can feel it deep in my bones.
“Come here,” I murmur.
In the blink of an eye, he’s by my side. Curling up against my chest, he nuzzles me with the tenderness of a small animal burrowing into a cosy nest. It’s not terrible. My arm gently rests across his waist, contouring to his every curve. I feel the gentle tickle of his contented sigh against the hair on my chest. Then come the gentle snores. The tension slowly dissipates from my body, leaving me feeling relaxed. The knot in my stomach is gone.
I don’t do the whole staying-over thing with my hookups. We fuck, then we go our separate ways. It’s a rule I always abide by—no exceptions—because there’s an undeniable intimacy in falling asleep with someone. I don’t do that. Intimacy. But here I am. With Tris. And I don’t think I’ve felt this at peace in well... ever. What is this man doing to me?
I’m so fucked.