Chapter 3

Kyda POV

"Tristian Wolfe," he said, extending a hand. She noticed the tattoos poking out of his shirt.

"Kyda Woods," I replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, warm, and safe. I could feel my heart pounding faster.

He finally introduced himself to me in his sexy, deep, and velvety voice, which had something inside me twist pleasurably.

He was a man of few words, but I knew that those directions were guiding me to a promise of a pleasurable night that I’d never forget. And I had no intention of giving my first time to Atlas. I wanted it on my terms, or maybe I was drunk.

My heart fluttered as I was welcomed by Aiden to their table and sat across from Tristian.

We fell into easy conversation. Aiden had a good sense of humor that made me laugh, and before I knew it, an hour had passed, and I was drunk. I could feel his warm gaze constantly caressing me. Though he didn’t speak, I could feel his power. He was dangerous, and I was too drunk to care.

I wanted him. I’ve always been a sucker for good looks, but a man whose muscles fill that shirt with taut, hard, brute strength is the absolute peak of beauty. His broad shoulders make the cotton taut, and I can see the outline of his semi-hard dick.

Oh my god! He is huge. And I was staring at his dick. "Stop staring," my brain kept yelling, but it was like my body had lost the ability to function.

We spoke for some time, and all the while, I was aware of the sexual tension around us.

"You need a ride home?" He asked as we finished our drinks. It was cold outside.

"That would be nice, thank you," I said, looking around to spot any of my friends.

We walked to the car park in silence, side by side, the air thick with sexual tension. We arrived at a shiny BMW. He was about to open the door for me but instead swirled me around and pinned my body against the car door.

"I'm sorry, but I've wanted to do this all night." He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to him, kissing my mouth, my neck, and my chin. We reluctantly pulled apart when we heard people leaving the club and heading our way.

He opened the door for me. He pulled me into his lap and kissed me again. I rubbed myself on him and his hard cock.

"I want you," I murmured between kisses.

“Tell me, do you want me to?” Tristian asked. His voice was deep, husky, and heavy with lust.

I was not better. My body was on fire. I was unable to forward, so I nodded my consent.

Tristian drove out of the parking lot toward the main road.

Fireflies danced in my stomach. I felt giddy and sad at the same time. Knowing this was most likely one last night of romance before we went our separate ways tomorrow, I resolved to make it as memorable as he had already.

Tristian slowly reached for my hand. With our fingers entwined together, I relaxed further into the seat, a small smile forming at my lips as I watched his thumb trace delicate patterns along the top of my hand.

This little gesture felt real, not like a night with a stranger.

He regarded me with an expression I couldn’t quite place before bringing my knuckles to his lips. His grey eyes sparkled in the passing streetlight, and I wondered if he’d bewitched any of his previous lovers with this arresting gaze.

I glanced at his lickable lower lip, and I wanted his mouth on every inch of my skin. He possessed a potent blend of qualities, like one custom-made by the devil himself.

I stared at his lickable lower lip and wanted his mouth on every inch of my skin. He was a fine blend of qualities, tailor-made by the devil himself. “Tristian Wolfe” was meant to tease her. Gentle in most instances but firm in his own boundaries, quietly sure, and most of all, dangerous. His long, lean body, cocky smirk, riot of black curls; and sun-kissed skin made him look like a Greek statue that should be in the center of an art gallery.