CHAPTER EIGHT
“Why did you marry him?”
Tyler’s question penetrated the silence enveloping the cab of his truck as they headed toward Oregon to pick up Roman Warrior. Brianne didn’t have to ask who or what he was talking about, but formulating a plausible answer was a bit more difficult.
The most obvious reasons for her spontaneous marriage to Reed swamped Brianne. She’d been young, pregnant and frightened, and when Tyler didn’t return to marry her as he’d promised, she did the only thing a despairing eighteen-year-old girl could to offer her baby, his baby, a better way of life than what she could have provided for it.
“Brianne?”
Knowing there was no way to avoid the inevitable discussion, not when she was trapped in a vehicle with him for hours, she rolled her head against the back of her seat, away from the passing scenery, and met his gaze. The look in his blue eyes said he was struggling to understand her motives for what she’d done.
She drew a deep breath, mentally editing the truth for Tyler. “I was so scared after you left,” she said. “You never called or wrote to tell me where you were. I didn’t think you were coming back. Reed told me you weren’t coming back, and I was naive enough to believe him.
“My father…” She swallowed the bitter words, My father didn’t want to have anything to do with me or your baby, and continued. “He wanted to move on to North Dakota, and I didn’t want to go with him. We were never close, and there was nothing in North Dakota for me. But I didn’t have anything of my own, either. No job. No money, and I did the only thing I could think of at the time.
“When Reed offered to marry me, I accepted, hoping for a better way of life.” It was all truth, minus a pregnancy that Reed resented from the very first. And as the years passed and she was unable to conceive Reed’s child, a legitimate child that would inherit Whitmore Acres over Tyler’s son, his bitterness and hatred had compounded. And Daniel had ultimately paid the price.
She shivered, recalling how much Reed resented Daniel being Tyler’s son, and how he’d scorned the young, hopeful boy who’d wanted so badly to please the man he believed was his “dad.” Her heart twisted painfully at the memory of Daniel’s crestfallen hopes, and the eventual lack of self-confidence instilled by Reed’s neglect.
“Where is your father now?” Tyler asked, bringing her back to the present.
“I don’t know. He moved after I married Reed. He always did hold a grudge against the Whitmores after your father fired him for his drinking problem. I haven’t heard from him since the day he left.”
Tyler’s sapphire gaze bore into hers, searching deep. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Did you love him?”
“My father?” She lifted a brow in surprise to his question. “Of course I did—”
“No, Reed.” His tone was impatient, his body suddenly radiating a palpable tension.
“No, Tyler.” Her answer was honest and straight from the heart. “And he didn’t love me, either. He only wanted me because I belonged to you. He knew if you ever came back and found me married to him it would hurt you. And it worked.”
A muscle in Tyler’s jaw clenched. “Yes, it did.”
Tyler fixed his gaze on the stretch of road in front of them, battling with the tumult of emotions clamoring inside him. Anger steamed in him for falling victim to his half-brother’s cunning, instead of fighting for what was his. The reining operation. And Brianne.
Would the regret and guilt ever stop eating at him? Only when you put the past to rest, whispered his conscience. But how, he wondered.
“It wasn’t a happy marriage,” she said, snagging his attention once again with her softly spoken statement. “Far from it.”
“Did he…” He swallowed hard, the unpleasant thoughts he wanted to express choking him. “Did he abuse you?”
“Not physically, though as you know he had a violent temper, and sometimes his words cut deeper than a knife.” Her mouth curled into a caustic smile. “When he was in one of his moods, or drunk, I’d try to avoid him and keep Daniel out of his way.”
Tyler suddenly understood how Reed’s manipulation had shaped her into the strong, self-sufficient woman she was today. Understanding, too, Daniel’s initial hostile reaction to him when he’d learned he was Reed’s brother. Both mother and son hadn’t had much reason to trust in their lifetime.
It seemed she’d paid an astronomical price for what she’d acquired.
“Reed was so bitter and spiteful,” Brianne continued. Now that they were talking about the past, and doing so civilly, she wanted to purge all the ugliness she’d kept buried for so long. “He found fault in everything, and nothing made him happy. He spent most of his time at the bar drinking instead of facing the problems at home.” And spent a lot of nights away from home. But his absence had been a salvation for her. “One night he came home drunk and belligerent, ranting about you, Landon, and the will he’d left behind, and how everything should have been his.” The tirade was nothing new. She’d grown used to Reed’s nasty accusations and insults, and the hateful allegation that Daniel was nothing more than the bastard his real father was. “The intensity of his hatred was frightening,” she whispered.
“What happened, Brianne?” Tyler asked, as if sensing there was more.
She rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill in the cab. “He left the house in a rage. That was the night he died.”
“Jesus, Brianne,” he breathed, his expression grim. “I didn’t realize it had been so bad.”
How could he have possibly known the extent of her suffering when he’d never come back for her as she’d hoped and prayed he would, forcing her to make choices that had altered her entire life. “There’s a price to pay for everything, isn’t there, Tyler?”
Her soft-spoken question startled Tyler. He kneaded the taut muscles at the nape of his neck, reflecting on the huge price his own isolation had cost him over the years. The loss of Landon’s respect. A life without Brianne. “I guess we’ve both paid some hefty fines, haven’t we?”
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Yes, we have.”
He reached out and touched her cheek, her skin soft and warm and vibrant beneath his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. For so many things.
“So am I, Tyler,” she whispered, a sad, emotion-filled sigh escaping her. “So am I.”
“He’s magnificent, isn’t he?”
Brianne smiled at the pride in Armon Eckerly’s voice as she watched Tyler ride Roman Warrior in one of the corrals. Armon’s comment could have applied to the man astride the horse, or the horse itself. Both were superb specimens of their breed. Lean, powerful, and breathtakingly magnificent. Horse and rider flowed together despite the difficult exercises Tyler executed, as if they’d been custom made for each other.
Leaning her forearms on the wood fence, she glanced at the older man. Armon Eckerly’s short, round frame was stuffed into a Western shirt, Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots too gleaming to have seen a hard day’s work. Sprigs of gray could be detected beneath his immaculate beige Stetson, and his light blue eyes winked with country hospitality. Brianne had instantly liked the older man. It was obvious by the boisterous reception and hearty handshake Armon had welcomed Tyler with, he held Tyler in high regard.
“I don’t know much about reining,” she admitted, watching as Tyler maneuvered Roman Warrior in a series of demanding patterns. He brought Roman to a sliding stop, then whirled him around smoothly, efficiently, without breaking their rhythm or faltering on form. “But I do know quarter horses. Roman Warrior has a strong conformation.”
“That he does,” Armon said on a hearty laugh. “Those powerful hindquarters of his are his trademark. Tyler’s had his eye on Roman since the day he came to work for me. Fact is, I’m glad Tyler’s purchasing him. That horse responds to him like no other trainer I’ve employed. You’re lucky to have a man of Tyler’s skill and patience to work your horses. I don’t doubt he’ll have a nice reining operation going before long.”
Brianne didn’t doubt it, either, since Tyler was so driven to enforce the program. Before she could comment on Armon’s appreciation of Tyler, the object of their discussion brought Roman Warrior to an abrupt halt mere feet from them. A huge swirl of dust accompanied the stop. Roman snorted and shook his big head.
Roman Warrior was, indeed, a glorious animal.
Tyler dismounted fluidly and handed the reins to a nearby ranch hand. A huge grin split his handsome features as he sauntered out the corral gate and toward her, his stride lazy.
Stopping in front of her, he pushed back his hat, revealing eyes full of excitement…and reserved anticipation. “What do you think?” he asked.
Brianne was impressed and convinced. From a business perspective, she’d decided a horse of Roman Warrior’s quality might be a good thing after all, and something she could handle on her own, if necessary. If anything, Roman Warrior would be a profitable stud.
Now, Tyler wanted her approval. The hope in his voice asked for it. The expectation in the taut line of his body told her how vital her positive response was to him. She couldn’t disappoint him.
“I think,” she said on a dramatic sigh that drew out the moment, “we just bought ourselves a reining champion.”
Tyler’s smile widened into a dazzling grin. His arms suddenly went around her, gathering her close and lifting her off the ground. He made a wild cowboy hoot of triumph and spun her around.
She laughed, enjoying herself and Tyler way too much. She became light-headed, from the spin and the man who crushed her to his lean, muscular body.
He stopped and slid her slowly down the length of him, until her boots touched the ground again. The friction of hard male planes against soft feminine contours started flashfires streaking up her thighs, across her belly and over the sensitive tips of her breasts. She was breathless and slightly aroused by the time he released her.
“Thank you, Brianne,” he said, his voice low and husky. “You won’t regret this.”
“How about you two stay for dinner?” Armon suggested jovially. “I can have Fran put two extra plates on the table.”
Tyler’s gaze never left Brianne’s. “I think we’re going to go out and celebrate.” His words were innocent, but the heat in his eyes was not.
“Good idea,” Armon said, not at all offended by Tyler’s refusal. “You two have a lot to celebrate.”
“That we do,” Tyler murmured.
An hour later, after signing the papers that made them legal owners of Roman Warrior, Armon walked with them back to Tyler’s truck.
“We’ll leave the trailer here and pick up Roman Warrior early tomorrow morning,” Tyler told Armon.
“He’ll be ready,” Armon promised, pumping Tyler’s hand in a congratulatory shake. “And if you ever need a job, you know you’ve always got one with me.”
“Thanks for the offer,” Tyler said, withdrawing the truck keys from his jeans pocket and sliding his gaze to Brianne. “But I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.”
Tyler paced the confines of his motel room, the exhilaration over the day’s events keeping him on a natural high.
Strolling to the window overlooking the parking lot, he braced a forearm on the cool surface and stared at nothing in particular, his thoughts lost on the woman occupying the room next to his. He’d told her he’d pick her up at seven to give her time to rest, shower and change. He’d already taken his own shower and still had another hour left to kill. Restless energy buzzed through his body, making a brief nap impossible.
After so many years of bitter emotions, he’d never expected Brianne’s approval of Roman Warrior to mean so much to him, but it had. When he first returned to Whitmore Acres his sole purpose was to achieve his own personal goals, regardless of Brianne’s thoughts or feelings on the matter.
Somewhere along the way that had changed. Somewhere along the way he began to care again and see her in a different light than what he’d believed for nine years. This morning’s discussion about Reed, and her reasons for marrying him, had softened a part of him that had been hardened to any feelings for her.
Absently rubbing his thumb along the faint stubble lining his jaw, he reflected on his stormy relationship with Brianne. Idly, he wondered if there was anything left between them worth salvaging. They’d both endured so much pain and heartache. Was there even a scrap of hope or trust they could build into something more promising?
Grabbing the remote on his way to the queen-size bed dominating the small room, he propped himself against the headboard and flipped on the TV. A weatherman on a local station forecasted sunny skies for the following day, but Tyler only listened with half an ear.
He’d thought a lot about the discussion he’d had with Brianne about Landon. The words she’d spoken, “No matter what you believe, he loved you like you were his own son. That’s as close to being a father as it gets”, had haunted him during the day. And in the quiet of the night, he’d tossed those words around in his mind, analyzing them and eventually believing them. Brianne had been right. It didn’t matter that his blood wasn’t pure Whitmore. In his heart, he was a Whitmore from the moment Landon had accepted him as one.
He switched off the TV and sat in the dark room, wondering if he could make things up to someone who was dead and gone. Were all his efforts to utilize his inheritance and run a successful reining operation a waste?
“You need to find it in you to forgive yourself.” Brianne’s words echoed through him, weaving around a soul battered and bruised from years of self-recriminations. He needed to make peace with Landon, and himself. Yet the only way he’d find peace was with the ranch, working to compensate for all the lost, lonely years he’d accumulated.
Shaking off the troubling thoughts, he stood, determined to move forward and finally unchain the demons he’d dragged around for nine endless years. He concentrated on all the good things that had happened since he’d come home. There were plenty of things to celebrate, most recently the purchase of Roman Warrior.
With that last thought nudging his mind, he picked up his truck keys from the dresser and headed out the door with a smile and a plan to tackle Brianne’s resistance.
A winning smile and a convincing story of how he’d locked his key in his hotel room produced Tyler a key to Brianne’s room. Lucky for him, he’d registered both rooms under his name, and the young, pretty clerk had been more than eager to accommodate him.
Tucking the key into his pocket, he quietly closed Brianne’s door, shrouding him in the dark shadows of nightfall. His luck held out. Beyond the bathroom door the shower ran, affording him the few minutes he needed to set up their “celebration.”
Ten minutes later, settled at the head of Brianne’s bed with a bottle of convenience store champagne nestled in a cheap plastic ice bucket on the nightstand, Tyler waited for Brianne. She finally emerged from the bathroom, skin flushed from her shower, a billow of steam trailing her. She wore a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a white camisole that clung to her damp skin, hinting at the generous curves of her breasts.
Except for the slice of light coming from the bathroom, the room was dim and she didn’t notice him. He didn’t mind. It gave him a handful of seconds to look his fill before she discovered him.
Walking to the dresser, she peered into the attached mirror, unable to see him in the reflection. She fussed with her makeup, sweeping a stroke of blush over her cheeks and adding a sheen of gloss to her lips. Lifting her arms, she unpinned the hair piled on her head. Unrestrained breasts swayed with the movement, the pebbled tips straining against the thin cotton. She shook her head, tumbling the damp strands down her back before she began pulling a brush through the thick mass.
Tyler dragged in a deep breath, his body and mind seduced by the uninhibited sensuality of her movements. There was none of the reserve she tried so hard to maintain around him. Just a natural femininity that he responded to on a basic level. This is how he wanted her, soft and willing, with all barriers swept away.
Humming a light tune, she gathered her hair into a fist and grabbed the silver and turquoise clip he’d given her.
“Leave it down,” Tyler said on impulse, his voice husky and rough.
She spun around on a gasp. The clip slipped from her fingers and fell to the carpeting. Eyes wide, she pressed a hand to her heart, her gaze searching the dim room. Finding him, her lips pursed into a thin line, barely suppressing the outrage simmering in her eyes.
“Dammit, Tyler, you scared the life out of me!” Snatching the clip from the floor, she defiantly secured her hair back before giving him the full force of her irritation. “What are you doing in my room?”
“I bought some champagne.” Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he lifted the bottle from the ice and started twisting off the wire casing. “Nothing fancy. I just wanted to propose a toast to our new investment.”
She snapped on the nearest lamp, flooding the room in a bright glow and dispelling the cloak of shadowed intimacy. “We could have ordered a bottle of champagne at the restaurant,” she said, some of the heat leaving her voice.
This was a personal, private celebration. “We can do that, too.” The plastic cork popped with his prodding, skyrocketing toward the ceiling. He chuckled when she ducked at the explosion.
She glared back, the scowl lacking any real intensity. “How did you get in here?”
He poured the bubbly liquid into two plastic cups, then glanced at her, a smile tipping his mouth. “A man has his ways.”
“I’ll just bet,” Brianne murmured derisively. That smile alone would gain him access to her room key, and anything else he might request.
Standing, he held out a glass of champagne, silently daring her to come closer. “Here you go.”
His voice was low and intimate, doing dangerous, melting things to her insides. Grabbing her blouse off the end of the mattress, she thrust her arms through the short sleeves in an attempt to protect herself from such responses. Cautiously, she ventured to his side of the bed.
“One drink,” she said sternly. She didn’t want to spoil his good mood, but being alone with him, with a swirling awareness charging the air between them and a huge, empty bed waiting to be rumpled by lovers wasn’t a smart idea. The sooner they left for dinner, the better.
“One drink,” he agreed, his fingers brushing hers as he pushed the cup into her hand. “To a fresh start,” he toasted, tapping his champagne to hers. “A new beginning.”
His all-consuming expression told her he meant the vow. She shivered, knowing the secret standing between them made any hope for a future impossible. There were so many emotional obstacles blocking their way to true happiness, she wasn’t even certain he’d stick around long enough to work at a new beginning.
“To Roman Warrior,” she rebutted, taking a swallow of champagne.
“To us,” he said, his tone fiercely possessive.
“Don’t,” she managed, struggling against the softening emotions threatening her. “It won’t work between us.” I can’t allow you to get that close!
Tyler’s fingers tightened around his cup until the plastic cracked. She was giving up, walking away without trying to bridge the chasm of old hurt keeping them separated. Determination rippled through him. He was going to make the first attempt at healing old pains, starting with putting the past to rest.
With that decision, he placed his champagne on the nightstand, ignoring the wariness creasing her brow. “I don’t want Reed between us anymore.”
Surprise lit her eyes for a brief second before regret clouded the brilliance. She set her cup next to his and skirted away from him. “He’ll always be between us, and you’ll always resent me for marrying him.”
He shook his head, searching for a way to breach the walls she shoved up quicker than he could tear them down. Trust. He needed to gain her trust. But dammit, how did he accomplish his goal when she bolted like a frightened deer whenever he broached issues that needed to be discussed in order for them to go forward?
“I understand why you married Reed,” he countered, allowing none of his frustration to edge into his tone.
Brianne closed her eyes, wishing he did know the true reason she’d given in to such desperation as to marry someone she didn’t love. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, biting back the truth rising swiftly to the surface.
His warm fingers slid along her jaw, and she blinked her eyes open, staring into the midnight depths of his gaze. A fierce glow kindled there, a mixture of staunch perseverance, desire and a need that rushed through her own blood.
“I won’t deny I always believed you married Reed to gain Whitmore Acres,” he began, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his eyes never leaving hers. “I couldn’t think of any other reason why you’d sacrifice yourself to him. But I’m half to blame for you marrying him.”
“Tyler—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Let me finish. Please. I didn’t stop to think about you being all alone with your father, and not knowing where I’d gone or if I was ever coming back. I didn’t think about anyone, or anything, but myself. Can you forgive me for leaving you the way I did?”
“Forgive you?” she choked. “Oh, Tyler. I was hurt and angry, but I never condemned you for what you did.”
But he’d hurt her, Tyler thought. Badly. The chain of events resulting from him leaving had ruined so many lives, and affected both of them still. “Then maybe, somehow, we can try and repair the damage of the past. Build a future…”
She manacled his wrists, intending to pull his hands away from her face, but he held tight. Didn’t he understand that they had no future, just a tangled past that would forever be a wedge between them? “It’s too late to start over, and involvement would only complicate our business relationship.”
Tyler didn’t think so. It could only enhance what they shared. Except she was too damned stubborn to see that. Too damned frightened to trust him.
“We’re already involved, Bree,” he said, moving closer, bridging the physical distance between them until their thighs skimmed. Her breath caught in her throat and she jerked back, but the hands spanning her jaw kept her right where he wanted her.
“Things are changing between us,” he murmured. “I know it, you know it. The only question left is, what are we going to do about it?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Brianne whispered despairingly, aching for what could never be. They could never recapture the innocent, youthful love they’d shared, the hopes and dreams that had been crushed by the cruelty of one man.
“Wrong answer,” he said softly, drawing her face closer with the pressure of his palms on her jaw. His heavy-lidded gaze glittered with masculine purpose. “This is what I think we should do about it,” he muttered, seconds before dropping his mouth over hers.
Tyler’s kiss was bold and greedy, robbing Brianne of sanity or will. A heaviness settled in her breasts, and the tips tightened into hard beads that ached for his touch.
Shocked by her response, her hands landed on his chest to push him away, to escape the sweet, drugging awareness and need. But her heart had a mind of its own, and it slowly opened to receive the tenderness Tyler had to offer.
“Tyler,” she groaned uncertainly. Lord help her, she couldn’t resist him. Sensations bloomed inside her, awakening desires that had lain dormant for an eternity. Despite everything between them, he was the only man she craved, the only man who made her feel alive and desirable.
“Shh,” Tyler hushed against her parted lips as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. Once open, he shoved the garment down her arms, leaving her clad in her thin camisole. Then he was kissing her again, lips and tongue teasing her deliciously. His hands roamed down her spine and over her bottom. Pulling her hips to his, he moved them in a slow, intimate rhythm.
Her breath caught in her throat and her head spun. He kissed her until she trembled, until a rising hunger and need overwhelmed her and she clung to him. Her body rubbed against his, seeking his warmth and strength and touch. He gave her all three.
He slowly guided her backward, toward the bed, his mouth playing seductively over hers. The backs of her knees collided with the edge, and she clutched her hands around his neck to keep from tumbling back.
She fell anyway, sinking into the mattress with his hard body blanketing her. Her thighs parted, welcoming him, and he automatically settled his hips in that natural harbor.
He yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She touched him, sliding her hands over warm, honed flesh. His eyes blazed with desire and a powerful, unbridled need that echoed in her heart. He unclipped her hair, tossed the barrette aside, and spread the shimmering strands around her head.
“I want you, Bree,” he said huskily, threading his callused fingers through the mass of silk. “Do you want me?”
She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, incapable of lying when her body trembled for him. “Yes.” Oh, God, she’d never stopped wanting him.
Tyler pulled in a deep breath to steady the sudden pounding of his heart. The honesty in that one word, the trust, was his undoing. He hesitated, his heart suddenly swelling with emotions too intense to analyze at a time like this. Brushing strands of hair from her flushed face, he saw a woman who made him whole and complete. A woman who’d haunted him for the past nine years. The only woman he’d ever wanted.
“Then kiss me like you mean it,” he said softly.
To Tyler’s surprise, and satisfaction, she accepted the sexy challenge. Sliding her fingers into his hair, she pulled his mouth to hers. This was no tentative meeting of lips. She delivered a hot, openmouthed kiss, like a woman starved for the taste of her man. He savored the faint taste of champagne, and a wild desperation. Responding on a primitive level, he deepened the kiss even more, giving as good as she gave. His hand covered her breast, squeezing the mound through the annoying obstruction of her camisole. She arched into his palm, a moan of frustration vibrating in her throat.
“It’s okay, baby,” he murmured against her lips. Pulling the hem of her top from her jeans, he drew the garment over her head, trapping her hands above her for a moment in the tangle of material so he could admire the full swells of her breasts.
Her luminous gaze widened, and a flush stole over her face. Dipping his head, he stroked his tongue over a nipple, then blew a hot stream of breath over the hardened tip. He released her hands and met her bright gaze, shimmering with desire and need. Silently, he dared her to be as bold as he. No restraint, no withholding anything.
She whispered his name, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and slowly, shamelessly pulled his head down to the tight crests begging for his attention. His mouth closed over a nipple, his tongue flicking over the beaded tip before he suckled her deep into his mouth. With a low moan, she held him to her breast.
“Brianne.” Her name was a groan on his lips. His mouth lifted from her breasts and skimmed upward. A soft, arousing sound escaped her, and she arched her neck, giving his damp, marauding mouth better access to her throat. His lips slid along her jaw, then crushed against her mouth in a hungry assault, his tongue delving and tangling with hers. His body rocked against hers, slow and easy, until natural instinct took over and his thrusts became more urgent, more demanding.
Impatient for her, and hating the denim separating them, he skimmed his fingers over the waistband of her jeans, finding and unsnapping the front closure.
The touch of Tyler’s palm smoothing over her belly, pushing aside her jeans, brought Brianne out of the sensual haze fogging her mind and clouding her judgment. She caught his wrist just as his hand skimmed the lace band of her panties. He immediately stopped his quest and met her gaze.
Brianne stared into Tyler’s dark eyes, blazing with a need as fierce as the one pulsing through her body. And in that moment she knew if they made love, she’d not only give him her body, but her heart and soul, too.
It couldn’t happen. Passion and desire had a tendency to soften anger and resentments, but how long would it be before Tyler remembered the ugly past dividing them?
“Brianne?” Tyler’s voice was strung as taut as his body.
A painful rush of breath escaped her. “Tyler, we can’t—”
“Oh, yes, we can,” he murmured silkily, dipping his head to drop soft, teasing kisses on the corner of her mouth. Freeing his hand from hers, he palmed the heavy weight of her breast, his thumb flicking over the tight center. He smiled against her lips when she issued a moan.
“Tyler.” Her voice was breathy, and she tried to clear the desire and longing from her throat as her hands pushed against his shoulders. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
He lifted his head, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Harder wouldn’t be such a bad thing, darlin’.”
She groaned at his pun, and shored up every last reserve of determination to fight him off. “Tyler, no!” she said through gritted teeth.
That got his attention, and he suddenly frowned at her. “No?”
He seemed so surprised, and confused, she nearly laughed. “No. We can’t do this. We can’t…have sex.”
“Sex,” he repeatedly flatly, disgust in his tone. He moved off her, but his irritated gaze kept her nailed to the spot. “Is that what you think this was all about? Gratuitous sex? A wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of romp?”
She scrambled off the bed and quickly zipped her jeans and donned her camisole. “I call it a mistake.” A lie, but a necessary one to keep the needed distance between them.
“Like hell it was,” he growled, his expression darkening with anger. “I don’t recall forcing you to kiss me. In fact, I distinctly remember you pulling my mouth to your brea—”
“Stop,” she choked, mortified that his mere words had the ability to make her breasts swell and tingle against her camisole.
Tyler sat up at the side of the bed, swearing bluntly as he dragged his hands through his hair. He’d pushed her too far too fast, but damn, she’d been warm and willing…then ice cold. He didn’t understand what had gone wrong.
Just moments ago he’d felt something with Brianne. Not just physical desire, but a ray of tender emotions still simmering between them. Buried beneath the old bitterness and hurt, he’d glimpsed fragments of the love and gentleness that had brought them together in their youth.
“Tyler,” she began, her voice imploring him to understand. “Everything is happening too fast. I’m not ready for this. For us. Can’t we just be friends?”
“Friends?” He barked an incredulous laugh. Unable to help himself, he raked the length of her with a searing look. “Lady, ‘friends’ don’t do the things we just did.”
Face flushing, she averted her gaze and began putting the cosmetics scattered on the dresser into a makeup bag. “Tyler, don’t make this so difficult, please.”
“I’m making this difficult?” He stood and approached her, shaking his head, wishing he could shake the irritation weaving through him just as easily. “You’re the one who wants to be friends after what just happened on that bed.”
Her spine stiffened, her gaze meeting his in the mirror’s reflection. “What’s so bad about being friends?”
He jammed his hands on his hips, piercing her with his gaze. “Friends don’t kiss like they can’t get enough of each other. A friend wouldn’t want to strip you naked, push you back on that mattress and make love to you until we were both so crazed with pleasure you’d forget the meaning of ‘friends.’” Her eyes widened at his blunt monologue, but he didn’t care because the words painted a vivid picture that made her realize exactly how far they’d nearly gone. “I think somewhere along the way we bypassed friendship.”
“Then maybe that’s where we ought to start,” she said quietly, turning to face him, her chin tilted at a defiant angle. “Business partners should be friends.”
Despite her stubborn stance, he saw the vulnerability shining in her eyes and that damnable fear he’d yet to unearth. A defeated sigh unraveled from his lungs.
He needed her trust. Without it they had no hope for a future. And if trust started with her platonic version of friendship, he’d forsake physical intimacy with her to gain the emotional closeness that would give him insight to her fears.
He dragged a hand over his jaw, feeling ragged from the inside out. “All right, we’ll do it your way.”