Tyler (11 page)

I approach the desk. He comes around and takes my hand. I stare at our hands, our entangled fingers, as if in a dream.

What’s happening?

He leads me to the back of the shop—not the bathroom this time, but the office. A big desk stacked high with papers stands on one side and an armchair on the other. His hand tight around mine, he leads me inside and locks the door behind us.

Then he turns around and pins me against it, pressing his powerful body along mine. His hands slam on either side of my face. His breathing is ragged, and his mouth hovers over mine, sending waves of desire through me. I need him—need the coiled strength in those hard muscles. His sharp scent. The softness of his mouth. The warmth he emanates. The burning heat in his eyes.

His lips caress mine, branding them with fire. It’s not so much a question as a demand, and I let him in. He groans as he deepens the kiss, his tongue invading me, stroking me until I’m throbbing low in my belly. I part my legs, and he presses between them, his arousal long and thick against my stomach. I slip my hands under his shirt, splay my fingers on his lower back, feeling solid muscles shift under his skin.

Tyler distracts me again, breaking the kiss and running a hand over my breasts. He looks down at them. He cups one, then the other, his thumb circling my hardening nipples through the fabric. My blood burns in my veins, and I can’t help but rub myself against him, trying to relieve the pressure.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispers, his breath washing over my cheek as he lifts his face, and before I can reply, his mouth fastens again on mine. I love the feel of his firm lips, the roughness of his stubble, and then…

“Oh God.” His warm hand slides inside the elastic waistband of my skirt. His fingers glide down, under my panties, and lower.

I jerk. His touch is electric, lighting me up. He rubs his finger up and down, making me moan into his mouth, and he keeps kissing me.

Why can’t I control myself around Tyler?

Now it’s coming back to me. It was like this with him, always. I wanted him with every fiber of my being—and I still do. Nothing has changed.

Before the thought shakes me out of my lust-hazed trance, he hums inside my mouth and withdraws his hand from inside my panties. I make a tiny sound of protest, but he doesn’t leave me time to gather my wits. He whispers something I don’t catch and then grabs my hips and lifts me. I gasp as he turns and deposits me on the edge of the desk.

“What are you doing?” I breathe when he leans in and runs his hands under my skirt, lifting it up until it bunches in my lap.

“What does it look like?” His voice is low and rough, like a caress I feel all over.

I shiver when he hooks his fingers in my black panties and tugs. “You should stop.”

“Do you want me to?”

I open my mouth to say yes, but I can’t. I want him to touch me, to kiss me.

Before I can say a thing, he lowers himself, kneeling on the floor, and pulls my panties all the way off, clear of my boots, leaving me completely exposed to him. His eyes darken more as he takes me in. His thumbs move in circles on my legs, approaching the aching throb inside me. One side of his mouth tilts up in a smirk.

I reach down to push him away when he blows. Just a warm puff of air and my legs fall open wider as shudders travel up my spine. I clench so hard inside a moan escapes my lips.

“Please,” he whispers—or is it me, begging him? I’m lost when he bends forward, his soft hair tickling the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs, then his coarse stubble scratching and—

“Oh my God,” I hiss when his tongue laps at me, rough and hot. I shouldn’t… we shouldn’t. Don’t years add to one’s wisdom and experience? How is he doing this, stripping me of all defenses?

His strong hands press my legs further apart, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh, but I barely notice when he presses his soft mouth against my exposed core, his tongue circling my clit.

I’ve never let anyone do this to me, not since Tyler, and now… He murmurs against my pulsing flesh, and I forget why I thought this was a bad idea. The pressure inside me is mounting, and my legs begin to shake. His hold on my thighs tightens, and his mouth presses harder, his tongue pushing inside me.

A sound escapes me, something between a sob and a cry, and I clamp my mouth shut. But it’s no use. As the wave of pleasure hits me, rolling through me, all the way up to my head, a loud groan leaves my throat. I come apart, my vision splashed with white light, my ears filled with a ringing din.

“Erin…” His voice is a low growl. As I look at him through hazy eyes, he licks his lips, and that makes me clench inside again.

My whole body shakes with the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had. “Why?”

“You wanted it,” he says, and it infuriates me, because he’s right. “You were so wet.”

“I just want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“God, Tyler.” I pull my skirt back down, feeling ill-at-ease all of a sudden. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m a bastard.” His voice is bitter as he gets up, his erection straining against his jeans. “What did you expect? I want to fuck you. That’s all I need from you.”

A chill goes through me at the hardness in his eyes. I recall our conversation from last time, and I shiver. “What about your girlfriend? Does she know you’re here, trying to get into my panties?”

“I’ve already gotten into your panties,” he grates. “Four years ago, or did you forget?”

My mouth hangs open.
Christ.
“Screw you, Tyler.” I hop off the desk. “Leave. Leave me alone, like you did in the past. Shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

A flash of pain goes through his eyes. “Right.”

Goddammit.
“I just need to know what happened,” I whisper. Zane said not to push him, but he’s hot and cold, looking at me like he needs me, then pushing me away. “Back then…” I lick my lips and shift my legs, the throbbing inside me a reminder of what he’s just done to me. “I thought you cared about me, despite our fights. Did you leave because of them?”

This has been my greatest fear—that I drove him away with my crazy bitch behavior back then.

But he shakes his head. “No.”

I draw a shuddering breath. Just like that, he’s taken the guilt I’ve been carrying for years and crushed it. The kindness throws me off kilter and pokes holes into my angry armor, leaving behind only the pain and sorrow.

“Then why?” I ask. “Please, tell me.”

“I can’t. I don’t want to talk—” He cuts with his hand through the air, as if to disperse an image, and grimaces as if in pain. Then he turns and kicks at the armchair and slams his fist into the wall.

I’m frozen in place. I didn’t expect such anguish. It tears at me, claws at my heart. “Okay, Tyler. Hey.” I step toward him, reaching out, and he stops, a fist pressed to the wall. His panting is harsh. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” I repeat the words over and over again until I touch him and take his fisted hands in mine.

He’s frowning, but his eyes are empty, as if he’s not here with me. As if his mind is somewhere else.

Someone knocks at the door, and he twitches, turning to glance at it. I tug on his hands, but it’s like trying to move a rock wall.

“Guys? Everything okay? Erin?” Rafe calls from outside, and Tyler’s shoulders slump minutely.

“We’re fine!” I call back. “Be out in a sec.”

Tyler looks down at my hands over his as if he just noticed. “Have to go back,” he mumbles, pulls his hands free and turns to go without another word, leaving me sick with guilt, sad and angry.

“What happened to you?” I whisper. The boy I knew used to bring me little presents. He even brought me a puppy once that he found abandoned on the street. We both liked science fiction movies and watched them together, curled up on my parents’ couch. He was happy, grinning and cracking jokes. Teasing me.

Well, until the last months before he left, until he started disappearing for days on end, like a preview of what would happen later for good.

Taking a step back, I sink into the armchair. With my face in my hands, I try to sort through my feelings. He came to talk to me in my car. He kissed me and… My insides clench again with aftershocks of pleasure at the memory.

And then he shut me out again.

I put my trembling hands down. Picking up my panties, I pull them on. What in the world is going on? This isn’t like Tyler.

Unless he changed all the way to the bone. What if he has? What if Zane’s right, and something happened to him, something so bad it broke him? And who can tell me if not Tyler himself?

Well, there’s one other person who might know. The one person who doesn’t want to see my face in a million years.

Asher.

Crap.

Okay, so I’ll talk to Asher, even if it kills me, and I… I have an idea. I need to find out whether Tyler has really turned into an asshole, or if he’s just playing a game, pushing me away so he doesn’t have to talk about the past.

He says all he wants from me is sex. So what if I give him exactly what he says he wants? See if he likes it.

It’s my move now. My decision. I’m taking control.

It’s also the perfect way to see those scars Zane mentioned. But God… If Tyler breaks my heart again, I’m not sure I can put it back together a second time.

Tyler

I fucked up again. Pushed Erin away, let my need for her take over, override what she wanted from me. But I can’t help it. She’s under my skin, especially lately, as I can’t sleep and have lost what little control I had over myself. I can’t let her see what a wreck I am. I must push her away, before she breaks me all over again.

It looks like I succeeded. She doesn’t show up at Damage in the next couple of days. That’s what I wanted—so why do I feel like utter shit? It’s as if someone is slowly ripping out my heart.

And Ash won’t pick up the phone. I entertain the idea that Zane gave me a wrong number, but that doesn’t add up. Zane wants Ash and me to talk.

I don’t even know Asher’s address. I know he lives with that girl, Audrey. Her friend Tessa must know. I just need to find Tessa.

And force Ash to talk to me?

Fuck.

The reason I moved here, versus visiting, is to give Ash time to get used to me, so he’ll open up and let me into his life. He made it abundantly clear so far he doesn’t want to see me, so I have to suck it up and wait, hoping he’ll come around.

Though why would he? What does he owe me? Fucking nothing. I left and didn’t get my shit back together until now. Until I saw my little brother in the emergency room and realized how fucking bad I’ve let him down. How close I came to losing him, the only family I have left, the little boy that used to follow me around, asking for my attention.

Well, those days are certainly gone.

I spend my afternoons working at Damage, my nights working on the websites and the mornings riding my bike out of town. The lawyer contacted me again, told me I should gather my stuff from Dad’s house, or it’ll be thrown away.

I’m tempted to say to hell with my things. I can’t even remember what I left behind. The image of the teddy bear with the gruesome crimson lettering on its chest haunts me. Let them have everything—sell it, own it, throw it away. I’m not going back.

Last night was brutal. I fell asleep on top of my laptop and woke up disoriented, thinking I was in the fucking basement of my parents’ house. Almost puked before I realized the dark was because it was the dead of night outside, and that the windows were open. I wasn’t tied up. I could leave if I wanted.

And I did. Rode my bike like a madman through the streets of the sleeping town and stopped at one of the lakeside parks. I parked my Ducati and shoved my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket, defying the stinging cold as I walked to the shore and looked over the still water surface. It wasn’t frozen, but it might as well have been, it was so dark and dead.

Like the place where my heart used to be.

It was in a park like this one where Asher was found, bleeding and freezing to death. I walk along the shore, the stiff grass crunching under my heavy boots. Frustrated, I kick at a stone and send it flying into the water. The splash shatters the quiet, then a hush falls once more, only broken by my harsh breathing.

What the fuck am I doing here? No matter how often I ask myself that, no matter how often I reply, it’s all bullshit.

Ash doesn’t need me. He never has. He’s got his friends, and he’s got Audrey. I gave up my role as a big brother and Ash’s protector long ago and I sure as fuck don’t deserve to ask for it back. What do I have to show for it? The fact I threw away the pills? That I moved back? How the hell would that ever be enough?

Who am I kidding? Erin doesn’t need me, either. Nobody does.

Suddenly it’s all crystal clear in my mind. I’m not here for him, or her. I’m here for me. I won’t find rest until I make amends. Until I find some sort of forgiveness.

But I fucked up so badly, with Ash, with Erin…
Christ.

I return to my bike and settle on the saddle. How did I ever think I could change for the better? That I could turn things around and be happy?

That redemption and happily-ever-after shit happens to other people, but never to me.

***

It’s late in the evening. Not much is happening at Damage. The guys are inking two customers in the back, and I’m running my hands through my hair over and over, fighting a maddening headache that’s been hammering at the back of my eyeballs since morning.

And to top it all, Marlene has been calling every hour. Another missed call from her blinks on my cell phone. When will she give up?

The computer screen flickers in my eyes, and I blink hard. Not the time to pass out—not while working. Zane isn’t here, but Rafe is. He says he’s holding the fort until Zane returns, but he’s been locked up in the office in the back since early afternoon and has yet to resurface.

The office.
Erin.
The memory of her taste, her silky skin, her voice assaults me, and my body wants. Needs. Needs her.