After the incident in the bathroom, Tiller let me and River have his bed and he slept in one of the other bedrooms down the hall. His bed isn’t exactly meant for two people. An eternal bachelor, you can imagine why that is.
When I wake up the next morning, the sun barely peeking through his dark curtains, I notice River isn’t in the bed with me. Crap. She’s probably downstairs being corrupted. Sighing, I slide out of his bed and throw on my clothes from last night and head downstairs.
In the kitchen, I find a shirtless Tiller standing at the refrigerator, with River on his shoulders.
River’s head turns when their little neighbor boy who never leaves, says, “Hey,” to me and gives me an overly cocky head nod.
Knowing he learned this from the Sawyer brothers, I smile and wonder if this kid ever goes home. He’s young, maybe nine or ten. Wouldn’t his parents be looking for him at some point?
“Good Morning,” I whisper, wishing for an entire pot of coffee. And maybe a massage. I’m so sore from moving my entire apartment. One thing’s for sure, River and I have entirely too much stuff, and I hope I never have to move her ridiculously heavy bed ever again.
Tiller turns to the side, his heated eyes drifting down my body, my skin tingling with the memory of his hands last night.
“We gonna eat,” River informs me, her hair wild and knotted. “I’m hungry.”
By the looks of Tiller, he is too, but not for food. My heart skips, a rapid beat finding a steady rhythm.
My voice is even, when I say, “I can take you to get some food.”
Roan comes around the corner, bumping his shoulder into me playfully. “I’m going to make some pancakes.”
River grins and throws her arms up in the air and launches herself into Roan’s arms. “Yay!”
After tickling her ribs, Roan sets her down, and she shuffles, barefoot and wearing an overly large dirt bike jersey into the living room where Camden is playing video games. She curls up next to him like they’re pals. When did she become part of this family? Had I worried the last few days over nothing?
It’s then I notice there’s nobody but them here. No bodies passed out on the floor, nobody laying around outside, just the Sawyer brothers and the neighbor’s kid.
My attention reverts to Tiller, who’s looking amused and hands me a cup of coffee with coconut cream creamer. He knows it’s my favorite and the fact that they have it here says a lot. I think. He did something nice for me. “Sleep well?”
Taking a deep breath of the sugary goodness, my hands circle around the cup, our fingers brushing ever so slightly. “Your bed is small.”
Blowing out a breath, he leans casually against the counter, crossing his inked arms over his chest. I try not to let my eyes wander, but it’s impossible not to. Your eyes would wander too when you saw that cut deep V peeking out from his shorts hanging low. My memory flashes with the image of him adjusting himself last night.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” he finally says, yanking my gaze back up to his face. “You got off last night.”
What a brat. I slap my hand over his mouth, peering over my shoulder at the kids, and then back to Tiller. “Stop being so dramatic.”
He removes my hand, his scowl deepening. “How is that dramatic? I have needs, and you’re not tending to them. If I remember correctly, you said I was your boyfriend.”
I roll my eyes. “That was for the wedding.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me. “Are you telling me we broke up and I didn’t even know it?”
I laugh, because how can you not? He’s adorable. “I told you. I’m scared.”
Dropping his arms, he glances over his shoulder at Roan a few feet away, talking on his phone and pulling ingredients out of the cupboards for pancakes. Leaning in, Tiller’s hands fall to the edge of the counter. “You’re not another nameless face to me,” he warns softly, but there’s a playful edge to his tone. “You never could be. Actually, you know damn well you never could be.”
I know what he’s referring to. Other than when Ava died, he’s always been there for me and that right there should prove his loyalty to me. “I said I was sorry,” I whisper, bringing the cup of coffee to my lips and taking my first sip.
With his eyes on my mouth, he scowls. “Are you purposely trying to ruin me?”
“Ruin you? What does that mean?” I ask, baffled by his question. Staring back at him, it all becomes achingly clear; he thinks I’m just using him.
He crowds me, dominating my personal space like he always does when he wants to be intimidating. “Are you using me to get off?” A smirk tilts his perfect lips before he toys with his lip ring. “Because that’s fine, but at some point, I’m going to make you bleed, love.”
“I’m not using you.” My finger jabs in his chest. “And stop being gross.”
“I’ll be gentle. I’ll even tell you I love you,” he says, the admission doing all sorts of things to my tortured heart, but I know he’s not serious. Hello. This is Tiller Sawyer. He doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body.
The silence that fills the air sends my heart sinking. His thumb strokes my cheek in an intimate gesture, soothing the ache in my chest. “Is that a yes?”
I swallow thickly. “It’s a maybe.”
“I swear I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “Trust me.”
When he’s sweet, it’s hard to deny him.
Before he can walk away, I grab his arm. “I have. . . uh. . . .” I don’t know how to phrase it, and by the look on his face, he gathers that much.
“What now?” He has that fiery angry look I know so well. “Last time you had that look on your face you left me with her for two days.”
“We’re supposed to have brunch with my parents,” I blurt out, then take off around the corner and upstairs to his room before he can say any more. Or worse, tell me he’s not going.