Chapter 12

How had he never seen this side of her before?

Birdie’d always been playful around him. The sarcastic nature she rarely hid softening whenever they had spent a lot of time together.

He wasn’t sure why that was, but he’d always felt like she’d mellowed in his presence. Something he could well understand considering he relaxed around her too.

In fact, some days, she’d been the only thing stopping him from blasting his father with his anger and running away.

Twice, he’d been close to taking off. Intent on crossing the damn country to reach his aunt’s house in Massachusetts. He’d even known which Greyhound buses he’d have to take to get there. He’d had a getaway plan tucked in his memory banks for more years than he cared to count.

But, without knowing it, Bernadette had always managed to ease that inner rage that only his father created. A core so tightly packed with anger, it was a wonder Tyson didn’t have an ulcer because of it.

They were back at the hotel, in one of the cozy nooks just off the reception. A small seating area was gathered around an open fire, and they'd been here ever since Birdie had forfeited her ski lessons. They'd both had several rounds of cocoa and were very close to a sugar high.

Tyson sank back into the armchair after reaching for his hot chocolate and watched with a grin as she managed to make more of a mess with her whipped cream mustache after trying to clear it away. She smeared it across her damn face, leaving a shiny residue on her top lip.

“I’ll lick that away later,” he told her in a gravelly voice. Only half in warning.

Birdie grimaced. “It will taste sour by then,” she complained, rubbing at her mouth with the napkin. When he nodded at her question of whether she was cleaned up, she settled into the corner of her sofa, curled her legs underneath her, and took another sip of hot chocolate.

Before them, the fire was stoked, and flames blazed and flickered.

They were in a small seating area in a part of the hotel’s lodge. Though they were in public, it was surprisingly intimate, and he had to admit, he liked the quietness.

Sure, they could have ordered room service. Had the concierge arrange for the fire in their room to be lit, but the truth was, he knew the minute they stepped foot in their suite, they’d be heading for the bedroom.

And what he had with Bernadette was more than just that.

It was…

He didn’t know what, if he was being honest. But he didn’t want to fuck it up with sex, which spoke of how important she was to him. Up until this point in his thirty-two years, pretty much all his dating life had been about sex.

Now? Things were different.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, resting her head on her hand as she propped her elbow on the armrest. It always amazed him how she'd sensed his more pensive moods.

“I’m thinking that I can’t believe you had a crush on me for all those years and I never realized.”

“Boys are blind,” she said dismissively.

Could he say he’d had a crush on her? He wasn’t sure. His feelings for her had always been complicated.

He’d needed her.

Not for sex. For… love?

Was that going too far?

He wasn’t sure. But shit, he wasn’t sure about any of this.

Rubbing his chin, he looked into the flames. “I should never have let so much time pass without us talking.”

She shrugged. “You had your reasons. Although, I’ll admit, when you never answered my letters… it hurt.”

He sighed, guilt flushing through him. “I wanted to, Bernadette. I really did.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you were a reminder of all the things I couldn’t have. Wouldn’t be able to have until I could get out from under my dad’s roof. Then, when I thought of all the time that would need to pass before that happened, as well as the fact we’d be going to college across the country from one another, I figured it was kinder to let things die a death between us.”

She blinked at him. “Ouch.”

He sucked in a shaky breath. “I was stupid,” he immediately stated.

“Yeah. You were,” she told him in a soft voice, as she ducked her head, and began to trace a pattern on the leather armrest with her finger.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked after a few minutes’ silence.

“I don’t know what I am. I-I guess I always thought I meant more to you than that. But I mean, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. When you never got in touch with me again, I already knew that. Just hearing it from your lips… it hurts like it’s fresh rather than nearly sixteen years old.”

“If I could take it back, I would,” he told her earnestly, sitting forward so he could reach her. He pressed a hand to her knee and squeezed.

The hand she’d been using to trace patterns with, Birdie moved to cover his. His thumb came out to stroke the tops of her fingers, and the intimate touch hit him hard.

It was a lover’s touch, he realized.  

The very idea staggered him. This wasn’t the kind of man he was.

He was a player. Unashamed of it.

Sure, he preferred to do his playing in short term relationships. Easy hook ups in bars had long since grown tiring and boring. Karen was one of the women he’d been with longest, ironically enough.

But the way Bernadette made him feel?

It confused the hell out of him.

She smiled at him, and it was tender and soft and loaded with so many emotions that the old him winced.

The new him?

Relief washed through him.

How could it not?

She felt this too.

He wasn’t alone in feeling this whirlwind.

Rearing up from the armchair he’d chosen earlier - had he subconsciously been looking to put distance between them? - he came to sit beside her. Not stopping until his arm was around her shoulder and they were cuddled up together on the sofa.

She pressed her head to his arm, and for endless moments, they just sat there, staring into the flames.

“I’ll sign the contract with Hedonist Central.”

The out of the blue statement had Tyson tensing up.

Did she think this was a game he was playing? One that revolved around work?

She stared over at him, sensing his tension, and frowning over it. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy about that.”

His tongue felt thick in his mouth. “Gill will be.”

She frowned again, and as he absorbed the hurt, her cellphone buzzed.

Birdie clicked her tongue. “I’m sorry. That’s Em’s ringtone. She wouldn’t ring if she didn’t have to.”

“Answer it,” he invited easily, grateful for the respite. It would allow him to process exactly why her words had hurt him so damn much. “Do you need privacy?”

She shook her head but connected the call. “What’s up?”

They were close enough that he could hear Em’s side of the conversation too.

“Nothing.”

Birdie snorted. “Bullshit. You wouldn’t call otherwise."

Hesitance came down the line in the form of a silence that almost vibrated with tension. Then, there was an eventual, “You alone?”

“Maybe. Why?”

Emily cleared her throat. “Has he tapped your fine ass yet?”

“Em!” Birdie squeaked, shooting him a mortified look that immediately had him roaring with laughter.

“Is that him? Jesus, Birdie. I asked if you were alone.”

“Not you too.” She glowered at him. “All this Birdie shit. It’s your fault. I managed to eradicate that name years ago.”

He shrugged, utterly unapologetic. “It suits you.”

“Hate to agree with him, but he’s kind of right.” Emily’s voice came through the cell with a giggle.

Bernadette grunted. “Did you call just to ask after my sex life?”

“Yup,” came the cheerful retort. “Mostly because I know you don’t have one.”

Bernadette rolled her eyes. “He’s still here, you know?”

“All to the good. He knows you’re not a slut at least.”

“No, I leave that to you,” came Bernadette’s catty reply. The words had his brows rising in surprise, but when Emily hooted, he realized this was the female version of shooting the shit.

“You just wish you were gay, so I’d tap you.”

Bernadette snorted. “Yeah, yeah. God’s worst mistake wasn’t the plague or AIDS, it was making me straight.”

He intruded their conversation to murmur, “It’s not a mistake in my eyes.”

Birdie cut him an amused glance. “Someone’s grateful I’m straight.”

“Considering most of the gay world is probably miserable over the fact you two hotties are out of their reach, I guess it only makes sense you’d get together.”

Birdie’s cheeks flushed. “Shut up.”

“You need to work on her confidence, Ty,” Em hollered down the line, making Bernadette move the receiver away from her ear.

He was realizing that himself. How did Birdie not think she was one of the sexiest women in the fucking world?

She was hot, sexy, curvy womanhood in all its glory.

“I can see that,” he directed to Emily. “I’ll get to work on it.”

“Make it a project. Birdie’s good with projects.”

“How is this my phone and you two are having a conversation without me in it?” she complained.

“Shut up whinging,” Em retorted. “Now I know things are going where they should always have gone, I can relax. You should too. Everything is fine here, all under control. Speak to you later, Tweet Tweet.”

Emily cut the call before Bernadette could complain about the second nickname that a bastard at school had taken to calling her after Ty had given her the 'Birdie' nickname.

He’d gotten into arguments with very few people at school. Somehow managing to ride the border between a lot of the different cliques. But with Bryan ‘Bulldog’ Anderson, he’d beaten the shit out of him for making Birdie cry.

“She’s such a bitch,” Birdie was complaining, breaking into his memories of an ass-whooping.

“You love her really,” he said, amused by her whining, and totally aware that he spoke the truth.

Even as teenagers, the two had loved one another. Not in a sexual way, although Tyson believed Em when she’d complained about Birdie’s sexuality.

Em would totally ‘tap her ass’ if she could.

But Birdie, thank fuck, was straight. And so that love that was between the two women was utterly innocent.

In this fucked up world, it was almost a wonder in itself. But for him, who’d been around it a long time as a kid, it was as natural as breathing. And he for one was grateful Birdie and Em had had each other when he’d had to leave.

They’d all been close. Though he was a social butterfly thanks to his army brat past, he’d always gravitated toward them more than anyone else. And as he and Bridie had lived close to one another, in the same subdivision, they’d hung out and done a lot of homework together.

When he’d left, and hadn’t stayed in touch, he knew he’d hurt them both by cutting them from his lives.

Funny, though, that he was only now realizing the impact of that.

“I was a selfish prick back then,” he confessed.

Bernadette snorted. “You’re a man. You’re a selfish prick now.”

Despite himself, he chuckled. “You call her the bitch, but you’re just as bad.”

She winked. “I’m acerbic. There’s a different.”

“Well, color me reassured,” he mocked, then took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“What made you say that?”

“Just… everything. Em knew about your crush on me, huh?”

She snorted. “What do you think? I told her everything. And vice versa.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t grow to hate me. She always was defensive over you.”

“I think she would have done if you’d dated anyone in our school. As it was, I think she was trying to figure out if you were gay too.”

Horrified, he retorted, “I’m not gay!”

She snickered. “I know.”

“She seriously thought I was gay?”

Birdie nodded. “Only because you were never interested in anyone.”

He grimaced. “I had my reasons.”

She patted his knee, and it pissed him off, though bizarrely enough, it fucking worked. He wasn’t a dog. He didn’t need his head patted to feel better… His body didn’t seem to agree with that however, because her touch soothed him some.

“I’m going to hash this out with her when we get back to Seattle.”

She snorted again. “Over a thought process that’s nearly two decades old? We know you’re not gay. I had multiple orgasms today because you’re very ungay.”

He huffed. “I’m feeling like I need to give you another two to prove my masculinity.”

“I’m willing,” she teased. “If it boosts your masculinity, I’ll let you work it out on me.”

Despite his irritation with Em, he had to chuckle at the sparkle in Birdie’s gaze. He’d always known she was playful around him, but bawdy? Nope. That was a new eventuality.

He reached over and pressed his chin to her shoulder. “Lean back.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Just do it.”

She rocked back into the sofa, and he maneuvered her, so she was more into the corner than straight-backed against the rest.

Before she could do more than squeak, he pressed his hand to her thigh and moved his finger up her yoga pant-clad leg. She clamped her thighs about his hand to stop him in his tracks, but he tutted.

“I thought you were willing.”

“I am, but not here!” she hissed.

“No one can see,” he soothed, but his damn smile was loaded with mischief. Mischief that compelled her to let him do as he wanted with her.

“Ever heard of cameras?” Bernadette demanded. "They are these newfangled inventions that have a habit of recording things, and people have a tendency of watching those recordings."

He grinned. “They won’t know. Nobody would. Not with that baggy-ass tee you’re wearing.”

Birdie gulped, peered around. When she saw there was no one around, she whispered, “We’ll get caught.”

“That’s half the fun,” he told her roguishly, letting his lips move over to her throat which he dotted with kisses before trailing his tongue between the pecks he left.

She shuddered against him, her shoulders rounding as she caved into the sofa, reclining now rather than sitting up, and her legs flexing and releasing about his hand.

With the freedom to roam, he went straight up to the seam in her pants and ran a finger along the thick line. She shuddered again, her hand snapping out to grab his wrist.

He paused, wondering if she’d try to pull him away, then when she didn’t, he carried on rubbing the seam, watching her eyes grow heavy-lidded with the touch.

Her breathing came out in soughing pants that gusted in front of her, and the sound shot electricity through his veins.

For some reason, he didn’t want this to be about him. Just her.

Her words still stung. The offer to sign on with Hedonist Central at the forefront of his mind.

It was imperative she realize this wasn’t about business, and he’d always believed that actions spoke louder than words.

With his other hand, he pulled her tee away from her belly and traced a line against the waistband before letting a digit slip underneath the thick band.

She let out a breathy moan that had his cock throbbing, and then, he looked around, grabbed the light coat he’d discarded earlier on the coffee table, and placed it over her lap.

The minute he did that, she relaxed against him further, more comfortable knowing that what was going on underneath the covering, was well and truly hidden from view.

Content that she could enjoy herself, he slipped his hand down the waistband and immediately burrowed underneath her panties. She had a tuft of hair on top, but around her sex, she was bare. That bareness was to his aid, because her slickness had spread, making her pussy juicy.

His tongue watered with the need to taste, but that would definitely be a step too far, he thought with an internal snort.

Instead, he contented himself with tormenting her neck, sucking, and licking and nipping, making sure she’d have a hickey or two to cover up tonight when they went for dinner. His fingers slid with ease through the slickness her body gifted him, and he gently caressed her clit, circling it in a way that wouldn’t get her off, but would make her needy.

How long she let him tease, he wasn’t sure. He was loving her soft moans, reveling in the arch of her throat as she gave him access to all of her. Then, out of the blue, her hand snapped against his, pressing his fingers harder over her clit through the thick stretchy fabric of her yoga pants.

“Stop. Teasing,” she bit off, but her order was weakened by the breathiness in her voice.

He grinned against her throat, then gave her what she’d been asking for. Slipping down, he thrust three fingers inside her. Fucking her with them, he alternated between hard thrusts and scissoring them wide. His wrist, purposefully in line with her clit, rubbed the nub until she was humping his leg.

With his free hand, he tilted her chin to the side and swept her up in a kiss that would keep her quiet. The noises she made were fucking hot, but they were his. No fucker else’s.

Need roared through him, but he stamped it down. This was for her.

Always for her.

She came around his fingers, her moans swallowed by him as he fucked her mouth as quickly and as passionately as he claimed her pussy.

Her legs clamped around him once more, and she seemed to collapse in her seat, her bones giving way as release hit her.

He pressed a last, tender kiss to her lips, then moved away a little to let her breathe. The minute he did, her eyes popped open.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m going nowhere,” he told her calmly but with a resolve that had her eyes widening.

Birdie gave a breathy gasp as he slipped his fingers from her core and tugged at her waistband, so he wouldn’t leave a mess against her belly.

When his fingers were free, they glistened in the firelight. Her cheeks were hot from arousal, but even more so when she saw his attention was on his juicy hand.

Her mouth rounded into the perfect ‘O’ as he slurped the digits into his mouth and sucked them clean.

Grinning at her, he purred, “Delicious.”

She let out a soft mewl and slumped deeper into the sofa.