Tristan’s Temptation by Sabrina York

The sight was alluring, seductive and damn arousing. It always was.

But today, for some reason, it just didn’t cut it. Normally the image of Shannon on her knees before him with his cock in her mouth was enough to drive him wild but today it was just frustrating. It simply wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

With a snort, Tristan slapped his laptop closed and spun around to glare out the windows overlooking the parking lot. When Jack Maris created Virtual Life, a high-resolution role-playing game, Tristan, as CEO of Trillo–Maris Software, had been excited about the prospects. It hadn’t taken long for him to realize the potential of a game where players could create their own reality and interact with avatars that looked and sounded just like people they knew, or people they wanted to know. The game could be played as a single player, as a private group or as an MMORPG interfacing with internet players across the world—all of which boded an extraordinarily promising market share.

But for Tristan, the game had an infinitely more personal draw. Using Jack’s little-known code to access the Green Door application, he’d created a seductive scenario featuring Shannon Weiss in hope of exorcizing the ill-conceived passion he felt for his prim little assistant. However, as time passed, Tristan had developed racier and raunchier scenarios. Delving into his darkest desires, making them come to life in the virtual world, only whet his appetite for the real thing.

Now he thought of very little else.

What he really wanted—pretty much more than he wanted to draw his next breath—was the real thing. He wanted Shannon there on her knees before him, her warm hands on him, her slick mouth tormenting him and bringing him to climax. And he wanted it so badly he could practically taste it.

But there were three major problems with this obsession.

The first problem was Tristan’s dedication to his business. When he, his brother Adam and his college roommate Jack Maris started the company, they’d agreed on several critical rules. The mandate at the top of the list—don’t fish in the company pond. That meant no romantic entanglements with employees. There were many reasons why this was a sound policy. Most specifically, when these kinds of relationships went sour, it could ruin a business.

Adam had no compunction about breaking the rules, Tristan noted with disgust. He’d recently become engaged to their very best financial analyst, much to Tristan’s chagrin. It didn’t seem fair that Adam could circumvent the rules and get laid every night—which he wasn’t in the least shy to report—while Tristan vented his frustration with his cock in his fist, obsessing over a digitalized version of the woman he desperately wanted.

It was damn frustrating. But it was his rule and Tristan always followed the rules. So despite his ever-growing fascination with Shannon, Tristan kept it in his pants and controlled his desire, turning instead to Jack’s version of virtual reality porn and feeling a little sleazy in the process. He kept telling himself he should just quit doing it—he realized it was a crutch for a very unwise addiction—but he always came back.

The second reason his fixation on Shannon was unwise was because she had a boyfriend—a handsome, muscular hunk whom she adored. Of course Tristan had never discussed Bosco with her but he’d overheard snatches of conversation between the women in the office mooning about how cute he was, with “those dreamy brown eyes”, “such big, muscular shoulders” and an “adorable ass that wiggles when he walks”. In his mind’s eye, Tristan had created a vision of Bosco as a big, dumb, muscular jock. It was pretty annoying to think of Shannon in bed with a douche bag like that, especially since Tristan wanted her in his bed.

The final reason his obsession with Shannon was idiotic in the extreme was the simple fact that Shannon Weiss would never, ever do any of the things Tristan fantasized about her doing. She was excruciatingly meticulous and reserved and ever so proper. She would be revolted by his carnal desires. Deep and dark and unrelenting as they were. When he was in his right mind, he couldn’t even imagine her having a sexual urge, much less acting on it. The prospect of the real Shannon, aloof and modest, on her knees sucking the sanity right out of a man was wholly absurd.

This obsession was wholly absurd.

Tristan swung around to glare at Shannon’s desk, which he could see through the floor-to-ceiling windows flanking the hall. She sat primly in her task chair, back straight, intent as she transcribed their most recent meeting minutes from the recorder to the computer. She was dressed, as always, with exquisite taste—no thigh-high vinyl boots and belly shirts here. No. She wore a perfectly tailored business suit and had her wild hair tamed into an elegant little bun atop her head—though wayward tendrils had escaped to caress her swanlike neck.

He’d had dreams about those tendrils curling around his finger, dancing along his thigh as she dipped her head again and again…

Damn.

Tristan yanked his imagination away from the abyss and opened his laptop again, forcing himself to concentrate on work. He would not think about Shannon or her unruly hair or her sweet face or those tantalizing ruby lips and how they would feel stretched around his…

Damn.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Work, he reminded himself. He had to focus on work.

A timely phone call saved him, demanding his attention to solve a thorny problem, forcing his attention away from the passion slowly driving him mad. He was congratulating himself twenty minutes later—for mastering twenty whole minutes of not thinking about Shannon—when her sultry voice sent him tumbling back into the cauldron of his simmering desire.

“Mr. Trillo?”

“Yes?” he snapped. He was always snapping at her, it seemed. He didn’t mean to but whenever she was near, whenever he smelled her scent or heard her voice, frustration gnawed at him and made him irritable.

And did every British woman sound so sexy? The dulcet tones of her crisp accent made his cock twitch.

“I’m off for the day. Is there anything you need from me before I go?”

His lungs seized. Did he need anything from her before she left? Christ. Multiple visions of what, exactly, he needed flooded his mind. “No!”

Damn. That was a little harsh.

She stood there silent, still, her eyes luminous and serious as she studied him. He felt her gaze like a caress, and his cock, the voracious beast, stirred once more.

It should be illegal for a woman to look at a man like that and not offer him some relief.

It really should.

“Are you sure?” Her voice was soft, timorous.

He sighed and scrubbed his palm over his forehead. “Yes, Shannon.” God, he was weary. So tired of all this wanting. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded crisply and returned to her desk, gathering her things. He watched her surreptitiously, knowing he shouldn’t. Knowing he should look anywhere but there, but she was like a magnet for his attention. He couldn’t break away from her allure.

As she walked away from him, toward the elevators at the end of the hall, his attention fixated on her ass in that pinstripe skirt, measuring the span of those tight globes. How would they feel in his hands? The very notion made his mouth water.

She rounded the corner and he caught himself leaning to the left to keep her in his sights. He groaned, calling himself all kinds of a fool. He opened his laptop and against his better judgment logged on to Virtual Life to finish his virtual blowjob with his virtual assistant.

God, he thought to himself. I really need to get laid.

She really needed to find a new job.

Shannon Weiss frowned at the unpleasant truth. She loved her job more than anything but her boss made it utterly untenable. Of course, it wouldn’t be so bad working for the surly old bear if she hadn’t been stupid enough to fall for him.

But fall for him she had, and almost immediately. She’d set eyes upon him in the interview—taken in his handsome, sharply edged face and utterly delicious body—and that, as they say, had been that. She’d received several other offers for her services—her résumé and references were impeccable, after all—and though the other firms offered more money, Shannon had accepted Trillo–Maris’ offer. All because of Tristan.

He was just the type of man she hungered for. He was just the type of man she always won. Until Tristan. For some reason, he always ignored—or missed—her subtle lures. She knew he found her attractive—a woman always knew—so she could only assume his reticence was due to his stubborn devotion to his rule of thumb—absolutely, positively, no office romances.

Normally when she saw a man she wanted, Shannon went for it, no holds barred. Tristan, however, sent her nothing but stop signs. It was painfully clear the man had no salacious interest in her whatsoever. Which was rather demoralizing because she was utterly mad for him.

She’d been heartened to see a romance bloom between Adam and her friend and coworker Kat, hoping Adam had succeeded in breaking the ice, in breaking the rules, but Tristan held firm. He’d become even more taciturn since the announcement of his brother’s engagement.

With this discouraging reflection, Shannon pulled open the door to Charlie’s Bar and Grill. She stepped into the dim, musty interior and squinted, scanning the tables and booths for her friends. She usually didn’t join the Trillo–Maris crowd for happy hour but tonight she really needed a beer.

“Shan-non,” Sara bellowed from across the room, standing to wave at her. “We’re over here.”

Picking her way through the peanut shells littering the floor, she made her way to their table. “Hey, guys.”

“Glad you could join us.” Jenny grinned and the multiple piercings tracing the way along her lip line danced.

“Yeah. Pull up a chair.” Kat tugged out the seat by her side.

Shannon smiled at the warm welcome. That was the thing about this company. Everyone there was so nice, so friendly. She’d loved it from the very start and hated to think of leaving. They were as close to family as one could get.

“Thanks.” She dropped into the chair with an audible oof. “What a day, huh?”

“No kidding.” Sara flicked back her blonde mane and signaled to a passing waiter for another pitcher. “You want a beer?”

“And how.” Shannon’s great gust made the others laugh.

“Shan, I don’t know how you do it.” Jenny wrinkled her nose. The plethora of piercings ringing her nostrils bunched.

Shannon tried not to stare. She always did. But she couldn’t help thinking how painful it all must have been. She didn’t even want to think about the tattoos. “Do what?”

Jenny waggled her eyebrows. Again. Dancing studs. Yikes. The eyebrows must have really hurt. “How you work for Tristan and keep your sanity.”

Good question. She wasn’t quite sure. “He can be trying.”

“Trying?” Jenny gaped. “Try mouthwatering. I’d be all over him like a cheap suit if I were his EA.”

Kat chortled. “Which is exactly why you’re not his EA.”

“Right.” Sara took a fresh pitcher from the waiter and leaned over to fill everyone’s glasses. “An executive assistant has to be professional and precise. Practically perfect in every way.”

“Like Mary Poppins.”

Shannon grimaced at the comparison. “I’m hardly perfect in every way.”

“Balderdash.” Sara mimicked Shannon’s British accent with flawless inflection and they all laughed. “Seriously. Can you imagine if Jenny were Tristan’s EA?”

Jenny fiddled with a streak of pink hair. It wasn’t all pink, just the streak. The rest of it was green. “He wouldn’t be so damn grumpy, that’s for sure.”

“Ah, but can you imagine the coffee?” Kat grimaced but softened it with a smile in Jenny’s direction. One of Shannon’s duties was providing coffee for company meetings. As coffee was a particular passion of hers, Shannon made sure only the best beans were ground under her watch.

“Ugh.” Sara groaned. “We wouldn’t get any work done at all.”

Jenny put out a lip. “I only burned it once.”

“Once was enough.” Kat nudged Shannon with her elbow. “You can never go on vacation again.”

Sara nodded so vehemently her shaggy bangs flopped into her eyes. “No kidding.”

Shannon offered a small smile. “Fortunately, I don’t seem to have a life so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

It was true. Her universe revolved around Tristan Trillo and he barely acknowledged her existence. When he didn’t want coffee, at least. The thought made her smile dim but fortunately no one noticed. Their attention had gone to the front door of the bar, which had opened to admit Adam Trillo and, in his wake, the object of her obsession.

Tristan.

Why did her belly have to lurch at the sight of him?

But it did. She dipped her head and studied her beer as he and Adam made their way across the bar. She didn’t look up once but she knew, every second, exactly where he was. It was always like that. Like she had a radar for him.

“There you are.” Kat stood to give Adam a slow, sultry kiss.

“Ick,” said Sara after a moment or two of watching. Avidly.

“I know.” Jenny wrinkled her nose. “It’s like seeing your parents smooching.”

“At least they keep it out of the office.” This, Tristan muttered under his breath but Shannon heard him. She always heard him.

“Of course we do.” Adam stole another quick kiss. “We know what’s good for us.” He seated himself in the chair to Kat’s right, leaving the only other spot—for Tristan—right next to Shannon.

Oh dear.

She picked up her beer and took a sip in an attempt to avoid drooling like an idiot and ogling him as he angled into the chair. His thigh rubbed against hers as he settled himself and she jerked in response, sloshing beer on the table. Self-consciously, she cleared her throat and carefully mopped up the spill.

In five years, she’d never been so close to him.

He was so warm.

She couldn’t resist a quick peek at his profile and was stunned to realize he was looking at her. Every muscle in her body froze and caught on fire. His gaze burned through her. God, his eyes were beautiful up close.

But as soon as their gazes met, as soon as he noticed they were tangled in a visual tryst, he frowned and turned away.

Why that sent a shaft of pain through her heart, she had no idea. And she refused to think about it.

Why did he have to be such a dick?

Why, in a social situation, could he not be civil? Make small talk? Smile, perhaps? People did it every day. But not Tristan. There was a firm line between work and private lives that he never crossed. Even here, now, she could tell he was very uncomfortable sitting with his coworkers, drinking beer. She could feel the tension in him, it fairly hummed in an aura around him.

It was damn aggravating.

And it spurred Shannon to mischief.

Deliberately, she let her thigh relax against his. His response was immediate. He tensed up like a tightly coiled spring. His knuckles went white around his glass until she was certain the fragile vessel would shatter under his grip. Thusly encouraged, she tapped her foot, rubbing her leg against his in time to the song as though she were merely enjoying the music. As though she had no cognizance of the heat searing into her at the spot their bodies intersected.

His muscles bunched. He stood and tossing her a dark look, muttered, “I’ll be right back.”

Disappointment skirled in her belly as he hightailed it to the bathroom. Sunk in her misery and completely absorbed in her pathetic Tristan-fest, she jumped when two heavy hands fell on her shoulders.

“Hey, this ain’t fair,” a deep voice boomed. “Why do you get so many pretty ladies at your table?”

Shannon turned to the behemoth behind her, an unfamiliar man wearing a Stetson and shit-kicker boots. His words were directed at Adam but his eyes were on her. “Hey there, sweet cheeks,” he drawled. “Wanna dance?”

She shot another forlorn glance at the men’s room and shrugged. “All right.” Why not? At least she could try to enjoy the evening.

“Whoo hoo. You shore got a pretty accent,” the cowboy said, drawing her to her feet and onto the dance floor, where he yanked her against him. He was big and hard and cute in a gosh-I-shore-like-country-music kind of way but hardly her type.

Within a minute she was pretty sure enjoying the evening was out of the picture and she had the crushed toes to prove it.

“Who the hell is that?” Tristan growled to his brother when he came out of the men’s room—hard-on finally tamed—to see Shannon on the dance floor with a man big enough to eat her for breakfast.

Adam shrugged and tipped back his beer. “Some guy. Asked her to dance.”

“And you let her?”

“Let her?” Adam snorted. “Have you met Shannon Weiss? She does whatever she wants.”

“He could be some kind of pervert.”

“I dunno.” Sara stared dreamily at the twirling couple. “I think he’s kinda studly.” This, she said as the man’s large paws slipped down to cup Shannon’s ass.

Tristan bristled and glared impatiently at the others sitting around the table doing nothing as that bear of a man mauled his—their—friend.

“Maybe she’ll get lucky.” Jenny grinned and licked the rim of her glass. She caught Tristan’s expression and blanched. “Or…not.”

“Whatever.” He shoved his fist into his pocket and pulled out some crumpled bills, which he tossed unceremoniously onto the table. He drained his beer. “I’m outta here.”

“Okay.” Adam sketched him a wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Tristan forced himself not to look at the dance floor as he made tracks for the front of the bar.

Damn but it bugged him to see her smiling and flirting and dancing, for Christ’s sake, with another man. The sight of Billy Bob’s hands on her ass almost sent him into orbit.

He had to get out of here. Now.

He desperately needed to be alone.

Hell, what he really needed was to get laid.

But none of the usual suspects interested him. Not anymore.

The only woman he wanted was Shannon. And she was beyond his reach.