“I know it? You just basically told me that the best sex of my life has been toned down for you, so I’d really love to know what you think can top this. What did skinny jeans do for you that I haven’t?”

“Tristan, now you’re being silly. I wasn’t talking about me.”

“Weren’t you? What have I neglected, Danika? I won’t bring a third party into this, but you said you weren’t talking about that. So what is it? What’s the magic formula that equals a wild sex life? You think variety does that? Variety comes from boredom, and I will never fucking share you.”

He was getting angrier by the second.

“I don’t understand how this got so twisted,” I said quietly, honestly baffled. “Why are you so angry? And I never suggested anything about us sharing.”

“You brought up a fucking threesome to me! What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re the one that had a threesome. Quit turning everything around on me!”

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me? And you call it fucking toned down? Do you know how crazy that makes me?”

“That is not what I meant at all. Again, I wasn’t talking about me.”

“Well, I’m sure as hell not the one complaining about our sex life, now am I? The only complaint I have is that I’m out of town too much. So tell me, what is it that we haven’t done that makes you think our sex life is boring.”

I said, my voice stern, “I’m done talking about this. You’re getting too worked up.”

“Well, that still sounds like an improvement over toned down.”

He was pressing hard against me from behind now, obviously aroused. The hand on my hip went up to grab my breast.

“You’re impossible,” I told him.

He ignored that, inching my camisole up, caressing me, his mouth on my neck. “You make me insane, you know that? Here I am, thinking things couldn’t get any hotter between us, and you’re worried we aren’t wild enough together?” As he spoke, he was moving my panties aside, nudging hard at my entrance.

He plunged in, entering me fully, but then just stopping, holding himself there. “Tell me what we aren’t doing? What’s not enough for you here?” He moved inside of me slightly to illustrate his point.

When I didn’t answer, he pulled out almost completely, as though to punish me for my silence.

I bit my lip, reaching back to grip him in my hand. I shifted him, dragging his tip until it was poised at my other entrance.

“What the fuck?” he growled into my ear. “This something you been wanting? Was this what you did with skinny jeans?”

If I wasn’t so turned on and embarrassed, I’d have rolled my eyes. “No. I haven’t done this before, though skinny jeans, bleh, I mean Daryl, was obsessed with doing it, I never let him. I never got the appeal. It sounds painful.”

“So why do you want to do it now?”

“Just something that chick said to me. I know it’s something you like.”

“Oh, you know that, do you? You think I’m shy about telling you what I like? Is that the impression you’ve gotten?”

I pressed back against him, trying to work his big tip inside. I could tell right away that it wasn’t going to be easy. “You did it to a stranger. I just think you should give me everything you gave to all those other women.”

“I do. I give you everything. No one else got anything worth having from me. When are you going to get that through your head?”

“What if I just want to do it? Are you really going to tell me you aren’t even a little bit interested in it?”

“You know why we haven’t done it? Because for me it’s been the thing you do when you get bored with random pussy. That may sound harsh, but that’s how I see it. You want me to fuck you like this? I’ll do it. I’ll take you fucking sideways, if the mood strikes you, but don’t twist it for a second into something I wanted, or something I was holding back from you. And frankly, I think I’m too angry to fuck you like that right now. You don’t do that angry, or it might really hurt you, though it’s going to be damned uncomfortable either way.”

I wiggled back against him, still trying to work him inside of me with no success.

With a frustrated sigh, he pulled away. I lay in stunned silence while he strode to the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

The shower ran for less than five minutes, and he strode out, dressed again, just minutes after that.

I squinted into the bright light behind him that wouldn’t let me see his face.

“I’m going back out to the party. I’m too pissed off to sleep right now.”

He shocked me when he just left.

I couldn’t sleep either.

I didn’t last ten minutes, throwing on my clothes, and following him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DANIKA

I found him talking to Frankie and Estella and a small crowd of strangers.

I was a little confused about Frankie and Estella, since Frankie swore up and down that they weren’t technically dating, even though they were spending plenty of time together. Estella stood very close to Frankie, her body language revealing her crush at a glance.

Frankie, on the other hand, stood very aloof, arms crossed over her chest, barely seeming to notice that the other woman was practically fawning over her.

I moved into the small circle of people, slipping under Tristan’s stiff arm without a word.

He didn’t so much as twitch, not sparing me even a glance. His arm was held stiff, barely touching my shoulders, in fact making an effort to avoid as much contact as possible.

He was pissed.

I leaned into his side, my hand going to his abs, rubbing at the hard ridges prominent under his thin T-shirt as Frankie explained her filming schedule with the small crowd of L.A. hipster people that I didn’t know.

I watched in rapt fascination as Tristan’s other hand moved to mine, and pulled it carefully away from his body, keeping me from touching him.

He was so pissed.

Men were strange creatures, I thought. Crazy aliens, really.

I waited a few minutes after he released my hand, then took up rubbing his stomach again, kneading at the firm flesh, working up his ribs to rub at one swollen peck. I was getting myself worked up by the time he grabbed my hand and slowly pulled it away. Again.

I patiently waited him out, pretending to listen to the group conversation with interest, slowly bringing my hand up to rub his abs again. I knew for a fact that even a pissed off Tristan couldn’t turn me down for long. The last time I’d put him in a pissy mood, all I’d had to do was go braless for a morning to get him to completely forget about it. He tugged me away again. I waited him out. Again.

The next time I slipped my hand under his shirt, rubbing directly against his skin, pressing my breasts into his side. It was taking him longer each time to pull my hand off, and this time it took him the longest of all, and I heard his breath hitch when he did it.

I waited patiently, then began to rub him again, over his shirt. He just let me, and I knew I’d won. We’d had plenty of stupid fights, but I was determined that this was not going to be one of them.

I continued to touch him, not looking at him, just pressing hard against him, my hand softly rubbing.

I loved the feel of him like nothing else, his firm flesh flexing under my fingers. I dragged my hand up every hard ridge in his abdomen, then back down, over and over, working myself into a state, becoming needy for more. More skin, more privacy, just more. I used the heel of my hand to rub harder.

Finally, my body wound tight, I turned my head the slightest fraction, and quickly, furtively, I bit softly into his chest, loving the feel of him under my teeth.

I wasn’t quick or furtive enough.

“Don’t mind us. Go right ahead and maul each other,” Frankie called out casually.

I ignored her.

She laughed.

“Excuse me,” Tristan said in a hard, quiet voice. He extricated himself from me, turned on his heel, and strode away. I stared after him, a little dumbstruck. What the hell was his problem?

Frankie moved closer, and spoke more quietly. “What’s up with him?”

I shrugged, giving Estella a small wave where she’d remained standing, chatting with hipster number whomever.

“How’s it going with Estella?” I asked her, changing the subject.

Frankie’s expression became very neutral. “Who knows? We’re just hanging out. She’s hard to read, but I think she’s just curious about me. I am a curiosity.”

“I don’t think that’s it. I think she’s into you. Like, really into you. What’s hard to read is if you’re into her.”

Frankie didn’t look at all convinced. “I’m not investing myself either way. Like I said, we’re just hanging out. She’s fun to spend time with.”

I studied her, not believing it. I’d have bet she was more cautious than disinterested, but that obviously wasn’t the way she wanted to present it.

“Does she like…that stuff you like?” I asked.

She laughed. “No, I don’t think so. At least, she’s never done any of it, which is about the same thing. Like I said, we’re just hanging out.”

“So you don’t do anything? Like whatever you were doing in the back of my car type of stuff?”

She made a dismissive motion with her hand. “We do some of that stuff, just messing around, though. Friendly type of stuff.”

I felt my mouth curving wryly. “That sounds familiar. Here’s some advice: If your friendly stuff ends in any orgasms, you are kidding yourself that you are just hanging out.”

She nodded at me, her smile mocking. “Well, I guess you would know. What’s going on with you and stud muffin, anyway? He’s in an odd mood.”

And here we’d come, full circle. Frankie was too tenacious to accept a subject change for long.

“He’s mad at me over something stupid.”

“How stupid?”

“Really stupid.”

“Alright, spill it. What stupid thing did you do? Let me guess! Since this is Tristan, and he is mad at you, and not punching somebody else, it’s gotta be something where you, like, hurt his feelings? Am I getting warm?”

I curled my lip at her. “I won’t be telling you, since you’re in a snarky mood.”

“I was kidding! Now tell me!”

“Let me go find him and make up first. It’s no fun to tell you about it while it’s still going on. Maybe after we make up.”

“Puh-lease! If you find that man, I won’t see you again tonight. You’ll be too busy ‘making up’ again.”

I could only hope she was right.

I didn’t find him for a long time, searching every room in the house. I paused outside of an ajar door as I heard familiar voices speaking on the other side. One of them was Dean, and just from his tone, I could tell he was up to no good. Dean stirring up trouble was something I would recognize from a mile away.

“I’m telling you,” he was saying emphatically, “Tristan didn’t used to be like this. There is just one thing that has turned him into a pain in our ass.”