Page 65 of Protected from Torment

“Of course we can go home.” Shifting me to his side, Tyler wraps his arm around my waist. “You must be tired. I should have thought⁠—”

He begins leading me towards his house, a small log cabin that’s nestled in the woods that begin just beyond the yard. Tyler’s house is one of three separate residences built for added privacy—Eden and Rafe have a small A-frame a little further along the treeline, and Indy and Bea have their own little cottage just between them.

I love how Tyler’s place is still on the property, safe and sound, but when you’re there, it feels like being in the middle of nature. We can sit out on the front porch every morning, drinking our coffee while we watch the squirrels frolicking through the trees and birds swooping from branch to branch. And just beyond the house, further into the woods, there’s a sweet little brook with silvery fish and dragonflies that skim across the water, leaving tiny rings of ripples behind.

But as much as I love Tyler’s cabin, I don’t want to go there until I’ve told Tyler what I want.

“It’s been a lot,” Tyler soothes. “With all the people, and you’re still recovering…”

“It’s not that,” I insist. “I don’t want to go back to the house to rest. Or to get away from everyone.”

“What, then?”

I tug on Tyler’s hand so he stops. As he turns to look at me, I take a steadying breath and say, “I want to go home so we can be alone. Not to rest. But…” I kiss Tyler’s bristly jaw. “I’ve been thinking. Well, more than thinking. Wanting.”

“Wanting what?” he asks carefully.

My heart skips again. “Wanting you.”

Cautious eagerness lights his gaze. “Wanting me? Does that mean what I think it does?”

A cool breeze brushes across my arms, bringing a rush of goosebumps along with it. “Unless you don’t want to. If it’s too soon...”

“It’s not too soon. As long as you’re sure.” Tyler takes off his button-down and drapes it over my shoulders. “What about your head? Your wrist?”

“My head is fine. And my wrist is safe in its cast.” With a nervous smile, I add, “I’m a little bummed I’ll only be able to use one hand, but I think I can work through it.”

Tyler studies me, thoughts working in his eyes. Then he draws me close to his side and starts hustling me towards his cabin again.

“Um. Does that mean yes?” I ask.

Our pace speeds up. “It means yes,” he says. “Absolutely, yes.”

Anticipation fizzes inside me. A delicious ache builds at my core.

Am I nervous? Of course. I haven’t been with a man in over six years. And before Vince, there was only my high school boyfriend, who I gave my virginity to on prom night only to be dumped unceremoniously one week later. So I don’t have a lot of experience to draw on.

But it’s Tyler.

He makes me feel safe. Like as long as I’m with him, everything’s going to be okay.

And I want him. I want to see Tyler without his clothes on. I want to feel his bare skin against mine. I want to take him in my mouth and watch his careful control break. I want to know how it feels when he’s deep inside me.

We don’t talk for the rest of the short trip to Tyler’s house. We don’t need to. It’s all in the electricity zipping between us and the silent messages shared in our gazes. It’s in the desire I see simmering in Tyler’s eyes. It’s in the breathless feeling I have whenever I look at him.

When we finally reach his front door, Tyler moves me behind him as he opens it, something he does every time we enter a building together. Surveilling. Making sure it’s safe before he brings me inside. I know it’s not necessary, not here, but I just step back and let him do it, anyway.

In this case, it would be pretty hard not to know if something was wrong, given that Oscar greets us the second Tyler opens the door. If it were a smaller gathering, I probably would have brought Oscar along with me. But with sixteen people in attendance, plus all the food, I thought it would be a better idea to leave Oscar at home.

“Oscar, buddy,” Tyler chuckles as he tries to wrangle my dog. “We weren’t gone that long.”

Oscar lets out an indignant woof of disagreement. Any amount of time is too long in his book.

Once we’re inside, I bend down to hug Oscar. “Sorry, Oskie,” I tell him. “I’ll make it up to you. How about one of those special treats Bea made for you? With the peanut butter and bacon?”

At the mention of treats, Oscar’s butt thunks hard on the floor, and he looks up at me expectantly. “Out first,” I add. “Then treat.”

“I’ll do it,” Tyler says. “Just relax. I’ll let him out, give him a treat, and then…” His gaze meets mine, dark with desire. “We can be alone.”