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He ran a finger over his lips as he looked at me. “What’s not to like?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, stopping and sitting back on her heels. “You looked… tense.”
Her sexy voice was filled with desire, and I suddenly felt like I wasn’t sure of what I was doing. This was a game. Someone was going to stop it.
Right?
“I was tense.” Tyler looked over to her, tipping her chin up. “You two are beautiful,” he allowed. “As long as you know she comes home with me.”
“How about we both go home with you?” she suggested.
Had I wanted her to say that? I couldn’t swallow past the lump in my throat.
Tyler didn’t answer, and before I knew what I was doing, I dipped my head to his neck, kissing the soft skin under his ear.
I heard his sharp intake of breath, and I caught his skin in my mouth, dragging it between my teeth.
“Kiss her,” I whispered. “Please.”
I saw him out of the corner of my eye as he hesitated, and then, slowly, he reached out and took her by the neck, bringing her in, their lips meeting.
I squeezed my eyes shut and took hold of him, trailing deep kisses over his neck and across his cheek, trying to own what was happening.
The sounds of their kissing and her moaning turned my blood cold and made my heart ache.
Kiss her, I thought. This needed to happen.
I would force myself to watch the whole damn thing and take any desire I had for him – any need – and twist it into knots to where nothing good could be made from it and no part of what I felt for him could ever be recognizable again.
I couldn’t have him. Not for good. He was sex, and he’d hurt me.
I’d have to let him go eventually. Why increase the inevitable pain on my heart when I could end it right now before he got a chance?
I didn’t want to love him. This needed to happen.
A tear fell down my face, and I quickly wiped it away as I pulled back and watched him. Not them, just him.
His hand was on my thigh as he kissed her, and he tried pushing it under my dress, but I slowly inched away, out of the scene.
“Keep going,” I urged. “Let me watch you.”
His tongue was in her mouth, and his other hand palmed her breast over her dress, and I envisioned it. Him taking her home, pulling the top of her dress down as he planted her ass on his desk and fucked her rough and dirty.
Or maybe he’d take her to bed. Let her ride him as he watched her body move.
I inched far enough away that his hand lost contact with my thigh, and I just sat there on my knees, watching him make out with another woman while I felt like he was slowly getting farther and farther away from me.
His eyes were closed; he wasn’t seeing me. My composure cracked, and more tears pooled in my eyes.
He didn’t even know I was here. He didn’t see me.
All he saw was her.
But then his hand started reaching across the sofa in search of me, and the next thing I knew, he pulled away from Kristen and pushed her off, glaring at me.
I stopped breathing, realizing that he was pissed. He was really pissed.
He looked at me like I’d betrayed him.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, nearly in tears. “That was stupid.”
And I crawled back over into his lap, straddling him, ready to apologize.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” he barked, the vein in his neck bulging.
I shook my head, taking his face in my hands. “I don’t know,” I cried. “Just don’t let me go, okay? I shouldn’t have done that.”
And I kissed him softly, my whole body shaking with the sobs I tried to hold back.
I didn’t want to let him go. I was falling for him.
His angry breaths slowly calmed, and after a few moments, he wrapped his arms around me like a steel band and kissed me back.
I heard Kristen clear her throat next to us and then felt her shift off the sofa.
“Well, I’ll just excuse myself,” she said in a light tone, as if nothing had happened.
But then I felt her lean in and whisper in my ear, “And if you haven’t noticed, he’s in love with you, too.”
I gripped his jacket, not even hearing her walk away as I closed my eyes and saw only him.
TWENTY
EASTON
“You messed up my books,” I commented, lying on my back on the floor of his study and gazing up at the bookshelves I’d so tirelessly organized a few weeks ago.
“Yes, I did,” he admitted without hesitation.
I wore one of his long white shirts with the sleeves rolled up and was supporting a glass of Scotch on my abdomen with my feet crossed.
“Did you do it on purpose?” I pressed.
“Yes.”
A smile spread across my lips, and I leaned my head up, taking a sip of the hearty liquid.
Christian was apparently spending the weekend with his grandfather across the lake, so Tyler brought me home with him from the club. It was one a.m., and neither one of us was the least bit tired.
I’d felt guilty about ruining our night out, but Tyler had said he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t like clubs anyway but had wanted to take me out.
After pulling me out of the club, he’d raced home, damn near getting into an accident on the way, and stripped off all of my clothes as soon as we’d gotten in the door. He’d carried me upstairs, my legs wrapped around his waist, and kept me good and occupied for more than an hour.
He’d gotten a few calls while we were busy, though, and since neither of us was sleepy, he’d come downstairs to take care of some business while I got drunk on his alcohol.
