Tristan didn't think her habit of touching his hair was so horrible, not when it felt so damn good. He was not the kind of guy who was ever overly concerned with what his hair looked like anyway as often evidenced by the way it did, indeed, look. But her fingers threading through the thick brown locks had him groaning softly, a smile curving his lips. "I love it when you do that," he murmured against her neck, his lips pressed just below her ear. "It drives me crazy." In a very good way.
His fingers slipped beneath her shirt, gliding along the slender, smooth expanse of her back. But the he paused, reaching out to shove at the coffee table that was crowding them. It obligingly moved a few inches across the carpeted floor without dumping what rested on top. His hands moved to her thighs adjusting her to better straddle him with the now added space.
"Sevin, I want you. If you're not okay with that, tell me no now." Before he got carried away. It wasn't that he wouldn't stop at any point that she told him to stop but it would be a hell of a lot less uncomfortable physically if she decided now that she didn't want to sleep with him tonight. He'd be okay with it if she said no.