LAUREN

 

“Can I come in?”

Tyler stood at the door as a wet dream. His white shirt clung deliciously to his toned body, his wet and mussed hair hung in threads over his eyes and trails of rain weaved through his stubble.

“Please?” he asked when I didn’t answer. I stepped away from the door, allowing him inside. Puddles of moisture formed under his feet as he scanned the lounge. “I thought he might be here.”

“Who?”

“Gabe.”

“He’s not. I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“He didn’t follow you?”

I shook my head, restraining myself from reaching out to touch him, from feeling his stubble under my fingers, from pressing my lips to his and licking away the droplets of rain. As if sensing my thoughts, Tyler ran his tongue over his lip, catching the drips that I desperately wanted to. But instead of reaching out to touch him, I crossed my arms over my chest, holding them in place, telling myself I needed to resist the urge before I embarrassed myself.

“What are you doing here?”

Tyler’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Have you got a towel or something?”

As soon as I walked into the hall, I leaned against the wall, allowing myself a few deep breaths before facing him again. What was he doing here? Did he regret last night already? Had he come to tell me it was a one-time thing and he couldn’t do this to Gabe after all? Part of me regretted falling into bed with him so easily. I never intended to. I intended on completing the work I was contracted to do and then walking away from the Thornton brothers and never looking back. But then last night happened and I found myself in Tyler’s arms, his mouth on my skin, and I wished I could stay there.

Pulling myself from the wall, I grabbed a towel from the cupboard, tossing it to Tyler as I passed him and walked into the kitchen. He followed, running the towel through his hair, the result ending up haphazardly wild and undeniably sexy. He ran the towel over himself, causing the blush of his flesh to seep through the transparent material. I tried not to watch. I tried not to lock my eyes on the way his shoulders dipped, the way his chest swelled, but it was near on impossible.

Tyler shifted uncomfortably. He was nervous. I had never seen Tyler Thornton nervous before. I thought it an impossibility. But he stood before me, shifting his weight uneasily, glancing up at me hesitantly.

I leaned back against the kitchen counter and reached across to flick on the kettle again. “Do you want a coffee?”

Tyler’s cell phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket, looked at the screen and then silenced it. “Coffee would be great. Black. Straight.”

As I turned to reach for the plunger, I could feel Tyler’s eyes on me and I regretted my fashion choice. Sweatpants and a t-shirt was hardly the most flattering of outfits.

Tyler cleared his throat, started to speak, stopped, and then started again. “I need to know what you are thinking.”

His nervousness empowered me. I leaned against the counter again, crossing my arms back over my chest, aware of the way it emphasised my breasts, aware of the way Tyler’s gaze slipped and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“About what?” I asked.

Tyler ran his hand through his hair, flattening some of the strands that were poking into the air. I enjoyed seeing him like this. He was usually so calm, so controlled, but now, standing in my kitchen, his eyes held a desperation and uncertainty I was unfamiliar with.

“About us. About you and me. Do you regret it?” He took a step towards me, reached out, then thought the better of it and stepped back. His motions were fluid but undecided.

Thoughts of Gabe, of the look of horror on Billie’s face when she realised what was happening, rushed through my mind. I didn’t know how to answer. Did I regret the way he made me feel? No. Did I regret the pain I saw in Gabe’s eyes? Yes.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” I offered finally.

Tyler ran his hand over his face as though trying to scrub away the worry plastered there. “I can’t do maybe,” he said.

The kettle whistled and I filled the plunger, watching the grinds of coffee float until they stained the water.

“I’m not that sort of a guy. I’m all or nothing, Lauren. You’re all mine or not at all.”

I tried to deny the thrill that shuddered through me at those words. Tyler was too intoxicating. He addled my brain. I needed distance to think. I pushed the plunger down and stood with my back to him. Footfall sounded across the wooden floor. Tyler’s hand brushed my hair to the side, leaving my neck exposed and vulnerable. His lips were hot and soft when they pressed into the tender flesh. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply as the sensation of his mouth on my skin sent tendrils of desire to the parts of me I wanted to ignore.

I stepped away. “Tyler.”

The hesitation of his gaze was gone, replaced with scorching hunger. He stepped forward, caging me against the counter. “Lauren,” he growled.

I moved, sidestepping his advance. “I can’t think when you’re this close.”

Indecision danced in his eyes. He adjusted the visible bulge in his pants. “What do you need from me?”

I laughed. “Not to be Gabe’s brother.”

“And that’s your only hesitation? Gabe?”

“Yes.” I shook my head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know, Tyler. I feel like I barely know you. My brain is scattered when I’m around you. I don’t think clearly. I don’t think about what happens next. I only think of now. That’s not who I am. It’s not who I want to be.”

“But do you want to know me?” He smirked then, the old Tyler, the confident Tyler returning with force. “I mean in more than just the carnal sense. Because that’s what I want too, Lauren. I don’t want to sneak about behind my family’s back to see you. I want you on my arm for all the world to see, and I want to be on yours and for you not to be ashamed that I’m there.”

I pushed the plunger down, forcing the grinds of coffee into submission. Ashamed is not a word I could use in relation to Tyler. No one would be ashamed to have him at their side. I poured the thick liquid into a mug and held it out to Tyler as though it were a shield between us.

He placed it on the counter, removing the barrier, and stepped close to me once again. “Do you want me, Lauren?”

“Wanting something and knowing what is good for you aren’t always the same thing.”

Tyler leaned back, resting against the bench and picked up the mug of coffee, bringing it to his lips. “Ask me something,” he said. “Ask me anything. I will answer anything you want to know. I’m an open book. Get to know me.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why can’t it be?”

“It’s—” I struggled to find the right words. How could I explain to this man that I wanted him more than I had ever wanted a man in my entire life? My insides were literally quivering as he stood there, dark eyes locked on mine with a lust I desperately wanted to quench, but, at the same time, I was scared. I was scared of hurting Gabe. Scared of the intensity of my feelings. Scared I would get lost in him. “It’s just that Gabe—”

Tyler let out a frustrated gush of air. “Stop thinking about him. Stop thinking about how it will affect my family or how it will look to others. Just tell me how you feel. I can see it in your eyes, Lauren. We are meant to be together and I am damned if I’m going to let my little brother ruin that.” He reached out and took my hand, tugging on it gently. “Come,” he said. “Sit.”

I sat beside him on the couch, knees pressed together and tentative as he relaxed beside me, his ankle hooked over the opposite knee.

“Let’s start with something easy. Cats or dogs?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

Tyler shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, running his tongue over his lips once he had swallowed. The sight was enough for me to squeeze my knees closer together. Tyler noticed and ran a finger over his bottom lip, rubbing it roughly, toying with my hormones. It was cruel the way he played with me.

“Are you a cat person or a dog person?”

Smudge entered my mind and I wondered where he was. It wasn’t like him not to greet the stranger in his house. “Dog,” I said firmly.

“See?” Tyler sat forward. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now I know something about you that I didn’t know before. I also prefer dogs over cats. Your turn.”

I scooted back on the couch a little, adjusting myself, hooking my feet under my knees and twisting to face him a little more. “What’s your favourite flavour of ice-cream?”

“Straight to the tough questions, huh?” Tyler rubbed his chin, feigning the thought-provoking nature of the question. “Cookies and Cream. You?”

“Vanilla.”

“Plain old vanilla? I see I need to broaden your horizons.” Tyler's voice was peppered with amusement. “Right. Next question. Would you rather be poor and happy or rich and miserable?”

“Can’t I be rich and happy?”

Tyler shook his head. “That’s not the question.”

“It’s a stupid question.”

“Why?”

“Who would choose to be miserable?”

“Ask all the miserable rich people.”

“Are you miserable?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “It has nothing to do with wealth though, and you didn’t answer the question.”

“Happy,” I said. “I would choose to be happy.”

Tyler raised his coffee mug. “To happiness,” he said. He took a large gulp, draining the contents and inched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re not asking any questions.”

“What do you do for fun?”

“For fun? I don’t really do fun. I work. That’s about it. Rather boring.”

“I would hardly call that an answer. Surely there is something you enjoy doing in your downtime.”

“Does working out count?”

“No.”

“Playing cards? I host a monthly game of cards with some of the staff at the company. Does that count?”

“It will do.”

Tyler’s cell phone rang again. He sighed and looked at the screen, swiping to accept the call. “What?” he demanded, somewhat abruptly. “Yes, yes, I know. Cancel it. Yes. I know. Tomorrow. Reschedule for tomorrow. I’m a little caught up right now.” He paused for a while, turning away slightly. “I know,” he said forcefully. “Goodbye.”

“What were you like as a child?” I asked.

“It was my turn,” he insisted.

“I didn’t know there were rules.”

“There are always rules.”

“Answer anyway.”

Tyler smiled. “As you know, I am the eldest. Let’s just say it held a certain level of responsibility that the others never knew. My father had high expectations of the firstborn.”

“Do you regret it? Following in his footsteps.”

Tyler shook his head, his knee jiggling. “I love my work. I love the challenge it brings. I wouldn’t change it for anything. The expectations of my father I might change, but not my career.”

“He certainly seems like he knows what he wants,” I said.

“We Thornton men usually do.”

I laughed. “I love how you talk about yourselves like that. Like you are a certain breed.”

Tyler shrugged. “In a way, we are. Dad made certain of that. He was…” Tyler paused, searching for the right word. “Very demanding. Very sure of what he wanted and he went after it. He required the same of his children. I was the only one who took up the challenge. Jake pretty much ran away from it. And Clark—” He stopped abruptly, falling away to nothingness. “He was the best of us. The only one of us not plagued with darkness. The only one not obsessed with drink, pain, or work.”

“I’m sorry.” I reached over and placed my hand on his knee, stilling the jiggling that started the moment his father came into the conversation. Tyler’s eyes locked on my hand. 

“My turn now.” He cleared his throat, his voice deepening. “Do you still love him?”

I removed my hand. “Tyler.”

“It’s a legitimate question. Do you still love Gabe?”

“In a way,” I admitted.

“In what way?”

“In the way that I feel bad that I’ve hurt him. That I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have.” I hooked my feet out from under me and pulled my knees to my chest. Tyler reached over and pushed away a strand of hair that was hanging over my face. Tears sprung to my eyes.

“My god, Lauren,” he said hoarsely. “What are you doing to me?” He moved along the couch and pulled me close. I collapsed against his chest, breathing in the scent of him. I wasn’t sure why I was crying. I wasn’t sure if it was for myself, or for Gabe, or for the ache of longing that felt like a chasm in my chest. Tyler’s hands feathered over my hair, running over the messy strands that had fallen from my hair tie. He shushed me, telling me he was sorry over and over, as though all of this was his fault and not mine. I knew better though. I knew this was all my doing.

“I will make you forget him, Lauren. I will do everything I can to make you forget him.”

Pressed into his chest, his hands running over my hair, his breath brushing against my scalp, I knew my tears were because of the things that were to come, because I couldn’t resist this man.

I tilted my head until my lips found his, fumbling and hesitant at first until he took control, our lips moving in unison, his hands roaming over my shoulders, down my back, crushing me against him. The gentle groans that escaped him only served to fuel the urgency of my desire. His lips were instruments of wonder. I threaded my fingers through his hair, twisting into the dark strands as he shifted back on the couch, creating room for me to climb onto his lap, our lips still locked. I didn’t notice as the dampness from his clothes seeped into mine. I was desperate for him. I needed him.

Tyler’s hands fluttered down my side and slipped under the material of my t-shirt. He fumbled with the clasp of my bra, moaning contentedly into my mouth when the latch released and his hands engulfed my breasts. We were passion and urgency, burning with desire, our brains flooded with the rush of blood.

I needed to see him. I needed to feel his flesh under my fingers, so I tore at his shirt, not caring as the buttons flew off in the rush. Tyler sat up a little, mouth still devouring mine as he wrestled out of the damp shirt. As soon as he was free, he tore himself away from our kiss and grabbed the hem of my t-shirt, ripping it over my head and tossing it to the ground alongside my discarded bra. Taking both my breasts in his hands, Tyler studied them for a moment, his eyes dark and intense, before slowly lowering his mouth to my nipple and swirling his tongue over the stiffness. Between the thin material of his dress pants and my sweatpants, his hardness pushed against me like a rod of steel and I ground against it.

“My god, Lauren,” Tyler panted. “I want to taste you. I want to be inside you.”

Movement flickered in the corner of my vision. A car out the window.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, bending down to hide.

“What?” Tyler sat up to peer out the window.

“Who’s that?”

“Peta.”

“Peter? Doesn’t look like a Peter to me.”