Chapter Thirty-Two

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As Jada and Tristan stood in the hotel room, Jada's shoulders tensed. Tristan wasn't saying anything and it was seriously freaking her out.

"What is it, Tristan?" Jada searched his face anxiously.

Was them being together actually not perfect like he claimed? Was he going to turn around and reaffirm everything he'd said at dinner? He'd make it clear that all of this was temporary.

"I was going to say that these last few weeks with you have been special. Better than I could have imagined. Thank you for giving me a shot," Tristan spoke up at last.

Jada was about to respond but Tristan cut her off with a kiss. They'd had quite a few since they'd started the romantic side of their relationship, but none like this. This was some next level shit. Passion ran through every stroke of his tongue, in the way he caressed her face and pressed her against him like they would never be close enough. They weren't even naked yet but it felt like he was making love to her with every inch of his body through this one kiss.

As they undressed each other, there was a sense of both urgency and longing, as if Tristan couldn't get enough of her. As if he never would. Jada relished in that feeling, praying for it to be true.

He made love to her that night in a way he never had before. He was always tender and mind-blowing, but tonight, he was even more thorough. Savoring every curve of her body, tracing it to memory. Filling her more deeply in an attempt to remain there always.

It was spiritual.

It confirmed that she truly was his.

Before she fell asleep, wrapped in Tristan's arms, she faintly heard him whisper, "te quiero," in her ear.

She wasn't sure what that meant, but she did know she would never love another man again. Tristan Maxwell had her heart.


*** Only his? Camila (the band, not Cabello) knows a little something about that kind of feeling.

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