CHAPTER 2

If Tristin was window-shopping, he was doing it now. Dawn crept in and there is no sight prettier than the sleeping figure beside him.

He wanted it. He can't buy it. And stealing it is not an option.

Rory was beautiful. Even through his sleepy eyes he can admit that he wouldn't get tired of seeing her beside him. She was in dream world. She was exhausted after the long drive, her grandfather's heart attack and the drama that ensued. Damn Dean. Another ghost he has to battle before convincing Rory to be with him.

Rory rolled to face him. She felt the presence. Her eyes opened and tried to focus on him. She was surprised to see him.

"Tristin!" she said getting up from her pillow.

""Hello to you, too," he greeted.

She sat up from her bed and looked at him. She was dressed in her party clothes. So was he.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I took you home from the hospital. You were crying. You fell asleep," he said.

Rory blushed in the dark. "I am so sorry," she apologized.

"You know, I think you're past the point of being called 'Mary'. I think your name should be 'Waterworks'," he teased.

"Waterworks? Where did that come from?" Rory asked.

"It seems like since the three year lapse, you've cried at least once a day. Even Susan Lucci can't shed that many tears," he teased more.

Rory took her pillow and smacked him with it. "You suck."

"I blow, too," he whispered sexily.

He crawled on top of her. Like a phoenix, he swooped down and kissed her.

His sudden movement caught Rory by surprise. Before she knew it, her hand snuck behind his neck and tugged him down towards her. She wanted to forget about everything: her grandparents' separation, Lindsey, her insecurity with herself and the changes around her. Most of all, she wanted to get rid of her thoughts on Dean. If she has to do it on Tristin's expense, she would. He knew the game and the rules that governed it. He'll forgive her later for it.

Tristin's arms went around her. It's bad enough that he has replayed this dream in his head since their near-accident. Chancing this moment to rushed intimacy was an option he was not willing to take.

Tristin traced the length of her arm with his index finger. Goose bumps formed on her skin as he kissed her again and again. Her hands clumsily tried to undo the buttons on his shirt. He could not help but pause momentarily as her fingernails scraped his chest. Her innocence made him very aroused. Her fingers sought the hair that started below his navel.

Tristin groaned. He never thought it would feel this good.

He took the little tab that held her dress together. The zipper sighed as it came undone. Rory's breasts spilled from the top of the strapless outfit. Her nipple perked to dark peaks as they met the cold breeze.

Rory helped Tristin shrug his shirt off. His biceps flexed. His body glistened from the light sweat that formed over his perfectly sculpted, lithe muscles.

Tristin got off from Rory, pulling her onto an upright kneeling position. He muttered words of comfort in French. His hands skimmed down her body, pooling her dress at her knees. His hand paused at the small of her back, the other cupping her breast. She gasped under his touch.

"Rory, Rory," he chanted between kisses.

"You're not allowed to touch me like this," she whispered.

"You don't like it?" he asked. He stopped nibbling her nape.

""It shouldn't feel this good," she said. He chuckled as he saw the pulse on the base of her neck palpitate like a jackrabbit.

He continued kissing her; the hand at the small of her back went south. A very skimpy G-string met him.

"God, Rory, what are you doing to me?" he asked.

"Drive you crazy," she said as she undid the buckle of his belt.

He groaned as her fingers went for the tab of his pants. His blood rushed out of his head as her finger brushed up against the only barrier left for her to expose to make them one.

Nibbles were exchanged. Shallow breathing sounds competed with the crickets and early birds chirping. Tristin was about to swoop down on her breast when she cried out, "Oh, Dean!"

Tristin stopped cold in his tracks. His breath was robbed from him. He could not believe the words that came out of her mouth. A memory: that's what he competed with and probably would always will.

Tristin got off Rory as quickly as he laid on top of her. He got up and zipped up his pants.

"I am so sorry," Rory apologized.

Tristin said nothing.

Rory started to panic. She was embarrassed and upset over what happened. Maybe she should've just stopped before they got to this point.

"I have to go," he said, mumbling.

In the dark, he searched for his discarded shirt. He didn't care if he ripped the expensive cloth. He reached for the dark shadows on the floor. He shoved his feet angrily in his shoes after donning on his socks. All he thought at this moment is how he could live with himself thinking that she would reciprocate his affections for her.

"I said, I'm sorry," Rory reiterated. She took the sheets on her bed to cover herself. What was she supposed to do?

Tristin's sarcastic laugh escaped through his lips. "Well, sorry can keep you warm until you're ready to wake up. I am going home."

"What do you want me to say?" she asked.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Have a great life. And the next time you see Dean, tell him..." he paused, "Tell him that he won. And ask him if his relationship with his wife was worth it."

Tristin walked out without saying goodbye. He slammed the door behind him. Again, both ended up alone.