Chapter 25

ON WEDNESDAY, TRISTAN called about an early dinner before heading to Decadence, and to check to see if she had any foods that were off-limits.

“I can and will eat almost anything,” she told him. “Except anchovies on pizza. That’s just gross.”

Axyl, who was also heading to the club, was happy to be relieved early, until he smelled the tantalizing aroma wafting from the bags Tristan carried in.

“Cassia? And you didn’t ask me?” he exclaimed, seeing the label on the bag and looking crushed.

Tristan clapped him on the back and ushered him to the door. “Just like at headquarters, bud. When it comes to food, it’s every man for himself.”

“You’re cold, Rogers,” he replied. “Be warned, Piper. He’s got latent sadistic tendencies,” he called over his shoulder as Tristan all but shoved him out the door.

She fought a smile as he rearmed the system. “Aw. He works hard keeping me safe. Couldn’t we have spared a little?”

“There is no such thing as little where Axyl Tavares is concerned. Imagine his grocery bill. I heard he bankrupted his parents during a growth spurt in middle school.”

Piper laughed, charmed by his relaxed, upbeat mood. “You’re making that up.”

“I don’t know it for a fact, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” he quipped, a smile threatening but not quite materializing as he unpacked the bags.

Piper sauntered up beside him to watch. “What’s Cassia?”

“A taste of heaven. And it’s light, which is what you should stick to before a big scene.”

“Planning to string me up by my toes, rope master?”

“Not yet. We need to work up to that. Tonight, I’m going to introduce you to something beautiful, but a bit more challenging, with both feet on the floor.” He folded the paper bag and pointed to the containers. “We have cold noodles tossed in a spicy Chengdu sauce, with crushed walnuts, edamame, cucumber, scallions, and blue crab.”

“That sounds amazing.” Suddenly starved, Piper hurried to get out plates and utensils.

“Grab bowls and spoons because I also brought chickpea curry and bread for dipping. It’s so good, it’s life-changing.”

She pulled out two bowls and went back into the utensil drawers for soup spoons. “You’re a connoisseur of fine cuisine. Who knew?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Piper.”

“You could tell me your story while we eat,” she suggested, then she could have kicked herself because, in a blink, his frown returned.

He didn’t answer to agree or shut her down; he just moved to her glass cupboard. “I’ll get ice water. The curry is spicy.”

Conversation over dinner was sparse, with Piper initiating all of it. Afterward, she escaped to her bedroom to get ready.

Having worn both of Josie’s leather creations and her only LBD twice already, she opted for a club dress she’d bought at a thrift store on a whim when she’d first arrived in LA. She had to root around in her closet to find the dark-green satin and, thankfully, it still fit. It had a low draped neckline, delicate spaghetti straps with a daring plunge in the back that led to a flouncy bow at her waist. It revealed a lot of skin, especially with her hair up in a clip, the loose waves falling to her shoulders but leaving most of her back bare, and the mini-hemline showcased her long legs.

When she came down the stairs, Tristan looked up, appearing almost startled. But he quickly collected himself and slowly perused her from head to toe, saying nothing. She interpreted his lack of response as bad.

“The bow is too cutesy for the club, isn’t it?” Not really expecting an answer, she whirled to charge back upstairs. “I’ll go change.” Into what, she wasn’t sure.

By the third step, he caught her hand, bringing her to a halt. “The dress is fine. We need to get going.”

Fine wasn’t exactly a rave review. His good mood hadn’t rebounded, and she regretted for the umpteenth time trying to coax him to open up to her. He once told her teaching newbies required baby steps sometimes. Helping a stubborn man break free of his past did as well. Perpetually grouchy wasn’t cured in a day, after all.

Upon reaching the landing, she glanced down, her doubts remaining, especially seeing her silver ankle-strap shoes, also thrift store acquired. The four-inch heels put her over six feet, something she usually avoided. She didn’t have to worry about that with Tristan. She would still have to look up several inches to meet his eyes. Still...

“Are you sure I don’t need to change?”

“I’m sure,” he replied with a husky rasp.

The sound was familiar, one she’d only heard from him after sex. Perhaps she had chosen the right dress after all. Then he shattered her moment of confidence.

“You won’t be wearing it for long anyway. Or the shoes, for that matter.”

“Go ahead. Give it to me straight. I’m perfectly calm,” she drawled while a million butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

He steered her toward the door. “You’d rather I sugarcoat the truth?”

“Yes!” His honesty could be brutal at times. After thinking it over, she amended, “Perhaps just a touch.”

It took him a while, but he finally got it—she needed a little reassurance. “You did amazing last night, Piper. This won’t be any different, except you lose the panties.”

He shared this as they descended the front steps, and she promptly tripped at the bottom. He adeptly caught her and kept going.

“Just to be clear. I don’t have to desensitize to not wearing panties. I’ll be wearing a G-string and a top sheet tomorrow.”

“For the tie I have in mind, they’ll be in the way. Besides, how many subs have you seen wearing panties under the spotlights?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. He wasn’t wrong. Except for a few chastity belts, she’d seen clamped, bejeweled, and meticulously groomed and waxed pussies on her visits to the playroom, but zero panties, other than on herself.

They had reached the gate. Tristan paused, turned her to face him, and tipped up her chin. “Is something else bothering you?”

I love you was on the tip of her tongue. Admitting it she feared was a crash and burn moment she doubted they’d ever recover from.

“I’m on edge is all,” she said instead, which was the truth. “Having a stalker while embarking on my first lead role then having to do a hard R scene to boot, is nerve-racking.”

“We don’t have to do this tonight, but you’re out of time.”

“I know. And it’s not like I’ll be the only one buck naked—unlike tomorrow.”

Twilight had descended, and the shadows in the courtyard lengthened. The solar lights blinked on, revealing his earnest expression as he reminded her, “You’re safe with me, Piper. And you always have an out.”

Of course, she had a safeword, which she trusted him to honor, or she wouldn’t be in this arrangement to begin with. Backing out now, at the eleventh hour, over a tiny scrap of fabric seemed silly. She’d enjoyed every scene they’d had together. Being tied was exhilarating, the orgasms unbelievable, and the aftercare was sublime. And she sure as heck didn’t want Tristan to replace her with a less shy demonstration model.

She sighed. “Do you think I’m overreacting?”

“You’re a newbie,” he said matter-of-factly. “They’re full of anxiety and notorious for overreacting. We doms have been trying to get that removed from the job description for years.”

She blinked in surprise. “Did Master Tristan just crack a joke?”

“Nope. That’s the un-sugarcoated truth.”

When he did it again, levity so uncommon from him, she couldn’t keep from giggling. It was true what they said; laughter was the best medicine. Suddenly, more at ease, she came to a decision. “I suppose when in Rome, do as the Romans. Sans panties it is.”

“Brave, beautiful girl,” he murmured with affection. He also bent and took her lips in a seriously steamy kiss, which warmed her insides more than the curry. “Shall we go?”

Smiling up at him, she nodded. “We shall. Lead on, sir.”

TRISTAN HAD CALLED ahead and reserved a chain station at 9:30. When they arrived, the requested mat for the planned floor play, along with his storage chest of ropes and riggers’ bag, were all in place. The only thing left to do was to cut his rope and prepare his submissive, which he did in that order.

“Stand in the center of the mat,” he told her then, unable to resist, watched as Piper, looking stunning in her figure-hugging dark-green dress, did as he asked.

When he first saw her tonight, a seductress and an innocent rolled into one, especially with that damn bow at the small of her back drawing his gaze to her delectable round ass, his cock rose to attention. But that wasn’t unusual. He stayed hard around Piper, which, for his age and experience, was damn embarrassing.

Tonight, it was his tongue that was the problem. She’d been looking for reassurance, and he’d given her none, only that insensitive crack about her shoes and dress, or lack thereof. But she’d caught him off guard at dinner. She was under his skin, that was certain, but was he ready to revisit his past with her? He did it often enough in his dreams, as it was.

He didn’t need to take it out on her, however. Tonight, he swore he would focus only on her, being with her in the present. She was depending on him, and had enough shit going on with her stalker still out there and her big scene tomorrow. The last thing she needed was him adding to her stress.

Tristan walked to the control panel on the floor and hit the foot switch for the spotlight. Then he selected a color, bathing her in blue instead of the red he usually used during demonstrations. She was so damn beautiful, and his ropes would only enhance her natural assets. The dress had to go, however.

Moving up behind her, he ran his hands down her arms. “We’re ready to begin,” he murmured. “Hands up.”

She obeyed without question, slipping easily into the proper submissive headspace despite her nervousness. He pulled the dress over her head, leaving her in nothing but a tiny pair of matching green panties. He let her keep them while he took care of her upper body ties. First things first, though—her hair.

“We need to keep this out of the way,” he said, gathering the cascade of golden waves. “I enjoy seeing it down around your shoulders, but hair and rope don’t mix.”

While fashioning a braid, he tried to focus on his task, but it was difficult to overlook the way the strands clung to his fingers, as if with a will of their own, and how neither the satin pooled at her feet or her flawless smooth skin could compete with the silken texture.

The braid reached the center of her back when he finished and used the hair tie from his bag. Then he took her wrists and bound them behind her back with elbows bent. In minutes, he tied the most basic shinju .

Tonight, wasn’t about artistry, complex knots, or suspensions, what some mistakenly believed were the end-all be-all of shibari. And it wasn’t about introducing rope bondage to an audience. No. It was about helping Piper overcome her shyness about her body and showing her a different side of rope bondage—a sensual, erotic side.

“The panties go next,” Tristan whispered in her ear, giving her another chance to back out. He was beyond pleased when she nodded, and softly replied, “Yes, sir.”

With his thumbs in the waistband, he peeled them down her legs. When they were in a tangle around her ankles, he ordered, “Kick them off and spread your feet, like last night.”

She did this without hesitation. Obedient, and so brave, it was like a balm for his dominant soul.

He quickly fashioned a double-strand waist rope and measured the length remaining for three strategically placed knots. Dropping into a crouch in front of her, he brought the rope up between her legs and positioned a knot over her clit, her center opening, and the one between her cheeks in back.

Rising to his feet, he performed a quick visual check-in, ensuring everything was as it should be. A deep blush colored her cheeks, her breath came in fast, shallow gasps, and he could see her pulse thrumming in her neck. The temptation to abandon his plan and claim her right then and there was overwhelming. Instead, he took a long, calming breath, trying to be the dom she needed rather than succumbing to his impulsive, unrestrained urges like a teenager. It did little to quell his desire. A cold shower might, but that wasn’t an option. Digging deep for control, Tristan braced himself for one of the most challenging scenes he’d undertaken.

“Kneel,” he directed her.

With her arms behind her back and the distracting crotch rope, it was no simple task. Grace and balance would come with practice. Rather than see her struggle, which some doms got off on—pricks the lot of them—he curled a hand beneath her elbow, supporting her as she lowered herself to the floor.

“For now, sit on one hip,” he instructed, with more rope and several more ties to go.

Despite his efforts to stay focused on the task at hand, frog tying her right leg—just another type of futomomo —he failed miserably. The bliss-filled sounds escaping her lips were too distracting, and he couldn’t ignore the distant expression in her half-closed eyes. Already, she was slipping into rope space. So inexperienced yet so responsive, and perfect for him in every way.

“Now roll to the other side,” he ordered, assisting when she tried but found it awkward. The second frog tie went as quickly as the first.

Piper looked so stunning in his ropes, all he could think about was sinking into her heat, and, with her bound securely, bringing them off together. But first, he had to see the current plan through to its end.

There was only one tie remaining, but she couldn’t possibly get into the position required on her own, so he lifted her onto her knees, ass to heels. He tugged on her braid until her head fell back and she was looking up at him. The endorphin-laden heavy-eyed look on her beautiful face made it impossible not to kiss her. With his hands framing her face, he sealed his mouth over hers, his tongue sweeping inside greedily, when she opened eagerly for him.

Long, passion-filled moments later, he ended the kiss and completed his ties by securing her braid to the end of the crotch rope, not extremely tight but snug enough that if she moved her head in the slightest, the knots would glide over sensitive flesh.

Tristan rose and circled her, checking knots and circulation, then he stepped back to admire not his work but the stunning woman before him. With her head back, the vulnerable column of her throat exposed, her arched spine thrusting her breasts forward, body trembling with each hitching breath, she was a sight to behold.

“How are you doing, beautiful?”

“I’m good, sir. Except for the ropes—” Piper moved her head the slightest bit as she spoke, and he knew without asking, the knots were playing havoc with her equilibrium.

“Quite a predicament you’re in, isn’t it?” he asked.

Still not exactly sure of what he’d done, she nodded then moaned as the knots did their assigned task once again.

“This is what we call predicament bondage. Your action sparks a reaction. Sometimes it’s pleasure, like the ropes stimulating you from clit to ass. Other times, it might be something less enjoyable.”

He’d used nylon tonight, which was much smoother than hemp and would glide without abrading and burning her sensitive skin. He didn’t want rope burns for her sake or his because he fully intended to fuck her on the mat with her bound. Tristan moved slowly around her, taking in the beautiful sight of her from all angles. Her head moved to follow him, sparking a moan.

Reflexively, his hand moved to her, fingers trailing over her skin lightly. He avoided her head and especially her hair. Any additional stimulation would be up to her entirely—for now.

“Are you in pain? Is something pinching or too tight?” Tristan inquired, although he was 99.9 percent certain it wasn’t the case. The sound he just heard was more akin to pleasure than pain, hinting at desperation, perhaps. He felt compelled to ask, just in case it fell within that slim 0.1 percent chance.

“I wouldn’t put it that way...exactly,” was her breathless reply, confirming his suspicion.

“How would you put it?”

“I very much need...to come, sir,” she gasped.

“Naturally, that is my intention,” he whispered. “However, you don’t have permission just yet.”

Her whimper was definitely out of frustration this time. “What if I can’t keep from it?”

“I meant tonight to be about pleasure. But I have a flogger in my bag for a naughty sub who can’t do as she’s told.”

“I’ll try, sir.” Her answer wasn’t very convincing, however, mostly just a barely intelligible moan.

“I won’t torture you too long, pet. But you’ve risen to every challenge I’ve presented you with thus far. Tonight, my aim is to push you further, and to have a little fun.”

From his pocket, he withdrew a pair of nipple clamps. They were the adjustable tweezer type, with rubber-tipped ends suitable for an uninitiated newbie. Crouching in front of her once again, he leaned down and sucked one rosy peak into his mouth to prepare it. When he applied the clamp and tightened the screw, one turn to start, he watched her lovely face, gauging her reaction. Other than biting her trembling bottom lip, she stayed perfectly still—barely breathing.

Tristan moved to the other breast and repeated the process. With both tips clamped, he leaned back and took in the lovely sight of Piper, kneeling in submission, head back, breasts outthrust, nipples a deep rosy hue. He was beyond the point of merely looking, however, and traced each compressed tip peeking out through the rubber-covered ends. When that wasn’t nearly enough, he bent forward for a taste.

Piper let out a throaty groan at the slow drag of his tongue over her flesh, her body arching in response. This only made her situation more dire because the knotted crotch rope slid over her sensitive flesh.

“I can’t wait,” she uttered urgently.

“Yes, you can,” he countered.

She shook her head—another mistake. After a shudder swept through her, she froze, not even breathing, which was only a temporary solution to her problem, poor sweet beautiful girl.

If she failed, which wouldn’t be a surprise—the combination of a crotch rope, clamps, and edging were a huge undertaking for a newbie—the outcome would be the same, a flogging and fucking right there on the mat. A win-win for them both. But he wanted her to succeed.

Tristan wrapped his hand around her neck beneath her braid. Nose to nose with her and staring into her luminous blue eyes, he urged, “Breathing helps, Piper. Focus on that.”

“I can’t,” she exclaimed on a shallow gasp of air. “Even that moves the rope.”

“Yes, but if you pass out from lack of oxygen, you won’t get the orgasm you seek. Or should I say orgasms? Because I intend to have mine after I grant you yours.”

Her trembling spoke volumes about her struggle.

“Close your eyes and concentrate on feeling everything, not just the knots. Feel the tension of the ropes surrounding you, the pressure of the clamps on your nipples, and the steady pull on your hair—not too much or too little but just right.”

As he spoke, using a deep soothing tone, Tristan reached for his vampire gloves and slipped them on. They usually had tacks or sharp points to resemble claws. But he’d special ordered these from Josie, using metal pegs rounded on the end on one glove and thick soft faux fur on the other. His aim was to stimulate to the nth degree, not to draw blood. Even if it wasn’t against club rules, that wasn’t his kink and it sure as hell wasn’t Piper’s.

He ran the cool metal tips over her body, tracing every curve and dip, followed by the fur. And, because he was weak and gave in to temptation, dotted wet kisses on her skin and light nips with his teeth in the wake of the gloves.

After one pass over her shoulders, back, breasts, and belly, Piper was a writhing mess. “Please, sir. I can’t...hold off...any longer,” she pleaded between pants.

“You don’t have to. You did well. Better than I expected.”

“May I...” she asked urgently.

“Yes. You may come now.”

His command was her most ardent wish. She immediately cried out, her body convulsing with pleasure as it claimed the sweet release she so desperately craved.

Tristan had enough self-imposed denial. Forgetting about the rest of his plan—flogging included—with one tug, he untied the quick-release knot securing the crotch rope to her braid. He shifted her trembling body forward so that one cheek, her chest, and both knees rested on the mat and her luscious round ass pointed to the rafters. Kneeling behind her, he freed his cock from his constricting jeans and, with what control he had left, rolled on a mandatory condom before sinking into her.

His head fell back as her wet sheath enveloped him. Then he took the pleasure he’d delayed for far too long, stroking into her repeatedly. It felt too good to end quickly, and he fought to endure, but that wasn’t happening. When he couldn’t hold back any longer, her moans joined his, her muscles squeezing him unbelievably tight, as they found bliss together.

When his brain was processing again, he heard applause and recalled where they were. He ran his hands over her bottom and up her back. Bent over her, he whispered in her ear. “You were perfect, sunshine. Be right back.”

He withdrew, rolled Piper onto her side, then quickly cleaned himself up, discarding the used condom—a necessity but always a nuisance—in the receptacle. After he released Piper from his ropes, someone in the darkness beyond the velvet ropes tossed him a blanket. He wrapped her in it and scooped her up in his arms. Exiting the station, he stopped, seeing Eric staring knowingly at him and Val beaming.

His friend moved close to impart his wisdom, whether Tristan liked it or not. Usually the latter. “You realize how exquisite she is, and how exquisite you are together, don’t you?”

With a clenched jaw, he glared at the matchmaking, mother-hen, master dom, but nodded. Anything else would be a lie.

“Just checking,” Eric replied with a discerning half smile. Then, with his own exquisite match under his arm, they disappeared into the crowd.

THE SUBTLE WHISPER of linen sheets against her skin woke Piper the following morning. As she stretched, the lingering stiffness in her hips and the ache in her thigh muscles, a result of an uncommon amount of kneeling, brought back vivid memories of the previous night.

Everything about it was amazing, from the clamps, the predicament he’d plotted, and how he’d called her sunshine with such affection at the end. The icing on the cake, Tristan had carried her to bed. When he’d climbed in next to her, she’d cuddled up to his big warm body and in seconds was out like a light.

Reaching out to his side of the bed and finding it empty and cold tempered her morning-after giddiness. She had surveillance cameras monitored 24/7 at Rossi headquarters, alarms on all her doors and windows, and the best locks money could buy. Surely all of that would wake him if her psycho stalker tried to break in again. But Tristan was on duty, and he took protecting her seriously. Even if he wanted to sleep, it would be with one eye open.

She smelled coffee brewing and bacon cooking. Waking up next to him and anything that would have followed was preferable to breakfast until her stomach growled.

After taking care of morning necessities, especially brushing her teeth, she slipped on her robe and went to find Tristan. Her bare feet on the floor must have alerted him to her presence because he straightened from the counter he was leaning his forearms on while checking his phone.

She would have liked to admire the view of his broad shoulders, muscular back, and lean waist—all bare above his loose fit jeans— a moment longer, but the view from the front was mighty hard to complain about.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully.

“Morning. Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

She watched him load another pod into her machine, fascinated by the rippling play of muscles everywhere.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, leaning his backside against the counter this time as the coffee hissed and burbled into her mug.

“Like a log.” Bending her neck from side to side, she tried to work out the kinks. “I don’t think I moved once. I’m a little stiff.”

“Come here,” he ordered.

She walked over and looked up at him without questioning why.

He rotated one raised finger. “Turn around.”

She did that, too, then moaned in instant bliss when he massaged her shoulders.

“Stretch every day,” he said, as he dug into her sore muscles with his thumbs. “Even then, some poses might cause aches and pains until you get used to them. I should have put you in the jacuzzi tub last night, but you were wiped out when we got home.”

“You have a jacuzzi? Can I try it now? I’ve never been in one, or a hot tub.”

“Aren’t you due on set by eight?”

She glanced at the clock and deflated. It was 6:40. Axyl would be there to take her to the studio in twenty minutes.

“How about a rain check for tonight?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “Better?”

She shrugged her shoulders and bent her neck once more. “Much.” Twirling around, she gazed up at him. “You’re good at that, too.”

“I’ve been a rigger for longer than I care to admit. You learn things.”

Not wanting to think about all the other women he’d tied up then massaged the next morning, she headed to the fridge to get creamer.

“Are you ready for today?” He grabbed the freshly toasted bread and brought it, along with a plate of crispy bacon—just the way she liked it—to the table.

“No,” she admitted, joining him with her coffee. “But I have to be.”

“You did great the past two nights. You didn’t seem self-conscious at all.”

“I had you as a distraction,” she confessed.

“Would you like me to go with you today instead of Axyl?”

Filled with a rush of excitement at the unexpected offer, she wanted to grab it with both hands. As quickly, second and third thoughts made her reconsider. “But you were up all night.”

“That’s not a problem. I’m used to it.”

“You also haven’t had a break all week. I can’t ask that of you.”

“I offered, Piper.”

Oh-so tempted, she imagined him there while she was nearly naked in bed with another man. Talk about awkward. Even if it was only Dirk, it might make things worse, not better.

Reaching across the table, she placed her hand on his. “I appreciate you sacrificing sleep to be there for me, but I might focus better if you’re not around. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Good. You may have dodged a bullet, anyhow. We’re scheduled to go until six, which is a long day, but with Dirk involved, I can imagine it going even longer.”

“Why do they cast him at all if he’s such a pain in the ass?”

“I asked the same thing. Except I didn’t say... ass .”

His lips twitched when she whispered the last word like the police were listening in and might break down the door and arrest her.

“They don’t cuss in Last Chance, Iowa?”

Her eyes widened, and she rapidly shook her head. “Not around my mother. She wouldn’t say ‘hell’ while reading scripture in Bible study.”

“What would she do instead? Skip it?”

“She’d spell it out or say, ‘the awful place’ or whisper ‘down there’ while pointing. Once, I heard her call it Satan’s hangout.”

This time, his lip twitch turned into a full-blown grin. It was the second day in a row she had made him smile. Now, she was determined to keep the streak alive.

He stared at her over his mug, eyes alight with amusement. “I’m amazed your parents were okay with you moving to LA to pursue an acting career.”

“I didn’t exactly give them a choice, which is why I had a late start. Twenty-seven is older than most wannabe actresses who leave home hoping to be discovered. But I had to work and save to support myself. Even then, the first six months out here were hard until my notary business got rolling.”

“What about the condo? I know personally they aren’t cheap.”

“I’m subletting from a friend of my aunt who hopes I win an Oscar one day and take her to the award show over her”—she used air quotes here—“holier-than-thou sister.”

He chuckled, the warm sound wrapping around her heart. “I bet the holidays were fun growing up.”

“They were, actually, thanks to my dad. He wants me to be safe out here. He’d freak out if he knew I had a stalker.”

“You haven’t told him?”

“No. And I don’t plan to.”

The amusement quickly faded from Tristan’s face. “What about me? A bitter, war-scarred dominant, twelve years your senior with wicked designs on your body? What would he think if you brought your ‘neighbor with benefits’ home for Christmas dinner one day?”

He’d probably have a heart attack, and her mother would be apoplectic. No way would she tell him that. The silence dragged on too long, which was answer enough when a loud knock on the front door saved her. The alarm beeped as Axyl used the code and let himself in.

Not long after, Axyl, the bottomless pit, walked into the kitchen. Instead of good morning, he greeted them with, “Mm. Bacon. Got any left?”

“Help yourself,” Tristan offered quietly.

Piper popped up from her chair, her breakfast untouched. “I need to get dressed, or I’ll be late.”

She was in the hall when the younger man asked, “What did I interrupt? You could cut the tension in here with a knife.”

Axyl didn’t miss much. After back-to-back nights of incredible scenes, two smiles, and a chuckle, Tristan hadn’t changed his mind. He still believed he had too much baggage, and the gap in their ages was too much. She suspected it was more of the former. Twelve years was nothing these days, especially in Hollywood.

Even if she could convince him that age was only a number, how did she overcome baggage and years of bitterness if he never opened up to her about it?