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He tilts my head back so I’m looking dead in his eyes. “I can take it, and you know I can more than give it.”
“Ever been denied an orgasm, honey?”
He stills once again—or tries to. His hips still move against my hand, fucking my fist. “Never.”
I smile to myself and kiss my way along his neck. His movements become jerkier, his breathing more erratic and broken. He groans my name into my shoulder, a heavy plea.
I release his cock and pull his boxers back up. “First time for everything.”
When I move away, he jerks, hurriedly doing up the button on his pants despite the astonished frown on his face. Astonishment quickly turns to pissed the hell off.
I stand, but he’s quicker. He flips me round and pushes me into the tree with his body, his hands clasping mine, his chest firm. His cock rubs against my core, the sensation made stronger by the seam of my jeans, and with one clench of my pussy, my panties get wet.
“First and last time,” he growls, his mouth right by my ear. “You’re going to pay for that stunt later, and you’re going to pay fucking hard.”
“I’m counting on it.”
My phone is buzzing incessantly with messages and calls from Dayton. The last message she left involved a lot of shouting about why the hell I haven’t called her and surely I’ve peed on the damn stick by now and another why the hell haven’t I called her?
I ignore her, feeling guilty but knowing it’s the right thing to do. She’s my best friend and I love her for buying the test, but we have to tell our parents first. I understand this much.
I stop stirring the pasta sauce. I think I’m coming to terms with it now. It’s hard when there’s no visible signs of a baby aside from a word on a little screen. Perhaps I won’t truly come to terms with it until I see the baby on a real screen and I can believe and know one hundred percent that there’s a tiny person in there.
Until that happens, though, I can’t freak out. I can’t put shit off because of my obsessive and addictive tendencies.
Tyler’s all but made it clear that he and I are it. Done. A forever deal.
Two months ago, that would have freaked me the fuck out. I would have been running for the hills, but now…
Now, I want it. With everything I have, I want it. Sixty-plus years to be addicted to Tyler Stone? Hell yes. I can totally take that. As long as I can step forward right now and manage what needs to be managed.
I give the sauce a quick stir, ignoring the burning tomato at the bottom of the pan, and grab my phone. I dig March’s card from beneath a couple of takeout menus on the fridge and dial his number.
I shove pasta around the pan with a wooden spoon while I wait for him to answer. When he doesn’t, I leave a message asking him to call me to arrange that coffee.
I don’t want to talk about it, but I’m not willing to hide behind my addiction anymore. For years, it’s controlled me and held me captive. In an odd kind of way, I’m thankful for it. If it hadn’t, I never would have met Tyler. I never would have experienced what it’s like to trust someone with your body and your mind and, eventually, your heart.
Because he has it all. I trust that man with every inch of me purely because I have no choice. He all but stole it from me when my back was turned. One by one, mind and heart, body and soul, he stole them and he trapped them somewhere within himself.
In a way, I’m no longer a prisoner of my addiction—I’m a prisoner of Tyler. But this time, there is a massive difference. This time, I want to be a prisoner. I want to be kept by him and I want him to tease my body and control my pleasure.
More than that, I want him to keep my heart somewhere I’ll never find it.
I don’t want it back.
It’s his.
“The sauce is burning.”
I snap out of my thoughts. “Shit!” I run to the stove and stir it frantically. I think I saved it… Just…
“That was some deep thoughts running across your face, baby girl.” He puts his bag down by the door, shuts it, and walks to me.
“Today must be my annual thinking day,” I quip, turning the heat down on that damn sauce.
“Have you hurt yourself yet?”
“Nope. I’d say I’m doing good.” I grin over my shoulder at him. “There’s beer in the fridge if you want it.”
