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He grabbed my hand, his fingers twining with mine and the ache between my legs was so painful, so expectant, I wanted to scream.
There was nothing to say. No words that could make what was happening any clearer. I tugged on his hand, leading him toward the back patio where hardly anyone went.
The cool air was a gorgeous relief against my chest, bare legs and face for just one moment before the furnace of Tyler pressed against my back.
“You’re here.” His breath feathered across my neck and my nipples went so hard so fast, I gasped.
“You ready?” he asked, and I nodded, words beyond me.
“Tell me, Juliette,” he said. “Say the words.”
“I’m ready.”
“For?”
Oh, man, I was going to fall apart. I was going to burn to ash. His fingertips brushed, just barely, against the skin of my breast.
“What are you ready for, Juliette?” he asked, his voice a purr, his fingers a feather against my ribs, my stomach.
I turned and looked him right in the eye. “You,” I whispered.
He groaned and kissed me. I expected a devouring. Something wild and rough. But what I got was tender, reverent. Tyler O’Neill at his sweetest and most restrained, and it tore me apart like nothing else.
I pulled back to look into his face, taut with lust, with a rigid control that I loved and wanted to demolish at the same time. His hair, sun shot and rumpled, fell over his eyes.
He smiled, everything in him beaming out toward me, like arms reaching for me. Like love and laughter. Like a family. Like belonging.
And I fell. I fell right back into love with Tyler O’Neill.
“Look,” he said. “Not that I’m about ten seconds from ripping that dress off you. But I understand if this is too fast—”
Honestly, how could I not love him? I wondered, awestruck by his grace.
“Is it too fast for you?” I asked.
His laugh was pained.
“I didn’t think so.” I reached for him, but his hands braced against my hips and held me away.
“No, Juliette,” he whispered.
“No, what?” I asked, not comprehending, lust making a mess of my head.
“Not like this. We’re not kids sneaking around anymore, are we?”
“No,” I whispered. “We’re not.”
“Then let’s do this right,” he said. “Let’s go back to your place.”
“My place?” I asked. “Not your old single bed at The Manor?”
His eyelids flinched. “My dad’s there,” he said, and stroked my arm, raising gooseflesh up and down my body.
“Wasn’t he there the other night, too?”
“Yeah, but this is different.”
It was.
“I could meet him,” I offered. I didn’t particularly want to, but Priscilla’s comments about pulling Tyler to good and bad pieces and only loving the good parts rang in my head. “You know…officially.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want him anywhere near you,” he said. And I knew what he meant and wanted to protest—I wasn’t something he needed to protect or keep clean. I was ready for him and all his skeletons.
His kiss burned away my noble thoughts and all I wanted was him alone for several hours. Getting to know the family could wait.
Stopping was torture, but I threw back my hair and took his hand.
“Let’s go,” I said.
TYLER
I followed Juliette’s taillights to a little bungalow on a dark, tree-lined street. Curiosity over where and how she lived fought a valiant battle against blood-boiling lust, but as soon as I saw one long, elegant leg slide out her car door, curiosity went down in flames.
I wanted her so bad I could barely breathe, much less think. I was destroyed by her, turned to ash and rubble.
I turned off the ignition and jumped out of the car, getting to her just as she closed her own door.
She was gorgeous in the shadows, her hair an inky mystery. I touched a curl as it rested against her bare shoulder and then slid my hands up until I cupped her head and she gasped. Electricity surrounded us, crackling and popping.
“Second thoughts?” I asked.
“No,” she whispered. “Absolutely not.”
“Good,” I said, and kissed her. I nipped at her full lips until they opened and my tongue touched hers.
She pushed against me. “I didn’t drive all this way to do this against my car,” she muttered, her eyes flashing.
“Lead the way,” I said, stepping back, but not letting go of her hand.
We didn’t bother with small talk, or light. She opened her door, I kicked it shut. She led me through the dark house and all I watched was the sway of her hips. She could have been leading me to hell, for all I cared.
In the bedroom I got a quick impression of a purple comforter and lingerie spilling out of an open dresser drawer before she turned to face me.
She glowed in the shadows, lit from within by a fire that I had longed to warm myself by for as long as I could remember. I was humbled because she stood there as a woman who frankly knew better than to get involved with me.
