Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I think it was easier for me to. . . learn about all of this in a safe place by reading books on it in a library, instead of putting myself out there.” I gazed at the pretty dishes of food all over the blanket. “But. . .I have met you, and maybe I won’t hide in the library anymore. Perhaps, I will do more. . .participant studies.”
“Is that why you truly skipped the library today?”
I swallowed. “Maybe.”
“Are you nervous about embarking on this erotic adventure with me?”
“I’m. . .worried that. . .there will be a moment where something will be too much for me sexually.”
“There will be those moments.”
I stiffened.
“Perhaps, we should have a safe word.” Tristan shrugged. “We can come up with a term or phrase to communicate to each other that the moment must stop due to physical, emotional, or psychological discomfort.”
My nerves flared.
“I want you to feel safe, Nova, and always I will want full consent.”
Calm washed over me. “Then, what do you think our safeword should be?”
“It has to be something that will be easy for both of us to remember.”
“Alright.” A giddy feeling came over me. “You know what would be cool?”
“What?”
“It would be fun if the safeword related to art.”
He studied me in silence.
“What?”
“I have to be honest with you.”
“Okay.”
“I’m really enjoying our time together. I can’t remember the last time I felt this. . .connected to someone on just a second date.”
“I feel the same way, Tristan.”
“I think this adventure will be phenomenal.”
My cheeks flushed with warmth. “Me too.”
“Say yes to the masquerade party.”
My heart drummed in my chest.
And then he began to speak, looking quite uncomfortable as he spoke one word. “Please.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Connection
What was it about this weird party?
I paused, my throat tight with emotion.
I wanted to go, I really did.
In fact, a part of me longed to give in and experience something completely new and exciting.
But the idea of going to this party and being surrounded by strangers, all dressed in costumes and masks while participating in kinky activities scared me.
I had no idea what to expect, nor how to act.
And it would have been one thing if I knew Tristan for a long time, and he represented a solid anchor for me to hold onto while I navigated this unknown, but. . .I was still trying to figure out who he was.
I shook my head. “I’m not ready to answer that. Give me time to think about it.”
“Time?”
“Yes, Tristan.” I shrugged. “You just told me about the party today. Give me a few days to consider it.”
“I would, but I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because the party is in less than a month, and I need a guest.”
My face twisted in confusion. “Okay. So, now I have to hurry up and figure this out?”
“Yes.”
“No, Tristan.” I chuckled. “That’s crazy.”
He didn’t return my humored expression. “Just say yes.”
“That’s not how I do things.”
He did not appear pleased. He furrowed his brows. “Why not?”
“Because a week-long party in Budapest is a huge trip and a lot of sex and—”
“What could I do to make you more comfortable?”
I parted my lips and tried to think. “A whole lot. Tristan, I still don’t know you.”
He had the nerve to scowl at me. “You’re in my home, sitting right in my studio. You know me more than most.”
“Tristan, it’s barely been three days of us interacting—”
“The amount of days shouldn’t matter.”
“They do when it means grabbing my passport, jumping on a plane, and going off with you to Hungary of all places.”
“You know me enough.”
“But. . .not really.” I shook my head. “Like. . .what about your family? Your parents?”
Tristan reared back as if I had slapped him.
O-kay. . .
This was clearly an emotionally charged topic.
His eyes grew dark.
Dread rushed through me.
I swallowed.
He stood abruptly and walked to the window, his hands clenching and unclenching as he stared out at the sky. His back was as still as stone, yet it radiated with an intensity that seemed to vibrate in the air around him.
My chest tightened.
Instantly, I felt like an interloper in his private world.
His voice was strained when he finally spoke. “I don’t discuss my childhood, family, too many. . .personal things. . .all of this stuff is off topic for me. You need to understand and respect that.”
I watched him closely for any more signs of emotion, but there were none. He was a fortress once again, his vulnerability hidden behind impenetrable walls.
A wave of guilt washed over me, and I realized I had ventured too far, pushed him too hard. I had touched a raw nerve, and the connection we’d been building felt suddenly fragile, ready to shatter at the slightest wrong move.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t,” he cut me off, his voice cold. “Just don’t. Forget about all of that. Let’s get back to the party.”