by Lilly Atlas
But, close as they were, they didn’t really delve into their emotions. Derek didn’t do that with anyone…well, he did with Alyssa. Christ, he missed his wife. Missed their closeness. Missed talking to her, missed holding her, missed sharing their days, and smelling her, tasting her, feeling her come all over him. What would it hurt to let Brett in on what was happening? Apparently, he wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it anyway.
“I don’t know, man.” He sighed and forced himself to say the two words he’d not allowed past his lips in over a year. “Katie’s death—” He cleared his suddenly thick throat. “Ah, Katie’s death really put a few cracks in our foundation. Maybe it’s been all on me. I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“Derek,” Brett said. “What you guys went through is unimaginable for people who have never experienced it. Cracks in your foundation? Hell, you guys are winning the race if you just have a few cracks. There’s a reason more than half of couples dissolve after the death of a child. It’s fucking devastating.”
More than half? Damn, that was some pretty bad odds. “How do you know that?”
Color rose in Brett’s cheeks as he shrugged. “I’ve been reading up. We’ve survived some serious shit together in the past. I’ll always have your back, you know that. Thought maybe I could help you guys out.”
As though a light bulb flicked on in his head, Derek realized just how disconnected from life he’d been since Katie got sick. Not only had he drifted from his wife, but he’d distanced himself from his friends as well. Words Alyssa said in a conversation a week ago came rushing back to him. I feel like I’m finally waking up after a two-year-long nightmare. Maybe it was time for him to get his head out of his ass and wake up as well.
“I guess I’ve kinda been operating in this detached autopilot mode for the past couple of years, just mindlessly plowing through. Working on it though. Can’t fuckin’ lose Alyssa.”
“That’s good, bro. Real good. And I don’t want to pry into your private life with Alyssa, but I think if anyone has what it takes to make it through the shit times, it’s you two.”
“Thanks, man.”
“You guys are the one couple that’s kept me from completely writing off the idea of a relationship. So don’t fuck it up. Otherwise, you’ll be ruining it for me as well as yourself.”
Derek laughed. Leave it to Brett to bring them back to busting each other’s balls. “I’ll do my best not to let you down.”
“See that you don’t,” Derek said as the bells jangled over the entrance, indicating their receptionist, Trish’s, arrival. Trailing their employee was Brett’s first client, a gorgeous twenty-something student who would most likely get more than just a navel piercing from Brett. “Ahh, best get to it. Lady’s waiting to be poked with my long tool.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down.
“Shit,” Derek said. “If I had a buck for every time you told that awful joke, I could retire and move to Hawaii.”
A middle finger was all the response he received.
Brett had the co-ed giggling, rubbing her silicone chest against his arm, and batting her long lashes at him in seconds. Jealousy burned hot in Derek’s gut. Not that he had any interest in the girl—or any woman besides his wife for that matter—but he missed the flirty banter, come-hither glances, and building anticipation that eventually led to mind blowing nights. Something that had never faded between him and Alyssa despite years of marriage, a child, job stress…
And it still hadn’t faded. He almost wished it had. No, it disappeared completely and faster than a whore spread her legs. It was time to give himself a kick in his own ass. There was no reason to gawk in envy at his man-whore of a best friend while he had a hot, sexy woman at home who still got him hard as steel with just a look.
He’d do anything to fix what was broken between them. No matter how skeptical he’d been of the plan at first. After the passionate night he shared with his wife four days ago, he was all in. Ready to do what it took to repair his marriage. Especially if it meant he got to see her come like she had in his car.
Chapter Seven
Alyssa tapped the key card against her palm and glanced down the hall toward the bank of elevators. Had she timed it wrong? A quick glance at her phone confirmed it was six twenty in the evening. Timing was right.
Then where the hell was he?
People were going to start wondering why she’d been loitering in the hallway outside the hotel suite for the past fifteen minutes.
Maybe she should leave.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Too ridiculous. Too out of the box. Okay, so no one had actually walked past since she’d arrived. She was freaking out for nothing. But she was freaking out. It was so stupid. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. No reason to be a nervous Nellie.
An elevator dinged, and her heart leaped into her throat as she got into position. If it wasn’t him emerging from the elevator, she’d look like a moron, but that was a risk she was willing to take. Because if this played out the way she hoped, she’d be going home with a smile on her face and a little pep in her step. Plus, she’d be one step closer to where she wanted to be. Where she wanted them to be.
She flipped the keycard around and inserted it into the door slot, backward. As expected, a red light flashed on the panel indicating non-acceptance of the key. With a huffy sigh, she did it again, then again.
“Damn it,” she muttered. Drawing in a breath of courage, she turned and met the newcomer head on. “Excuse me,” she said with more confidence than she was feeling. “Do you think you could give me a hand for a moment?”
And there he was.
Really, she’d known without looking. His energy called to her and a zing of awareness shot across her skin the moment the elevator bell chimed. God, he was handsome. The years had only made him more appealing. The full, but closely cropped dark beard covering his face was her absolute favorite feature. She would truly mourn if he ever shaved it off. Just the sight of it made her shiver with the desire to feel those soft hairs tickling her breasts, her stomach, her inner thighs.
He was so strong. Both in character and in the brawny-man sense. Each of those traits appealed to her, but she couldn’t deny the initial spark of physical awareness he’d ignited in her from the first time she’d laid eyes on him. The slight scowl he’d worn back then combined with the bulging muscles made an intriguing and formidable picture. And that was all before finding out he could kill a man six ways, with just his pinkie toe.
Despite the menacing look about him, he’d never intimidated Alyssa. Okay, that was a lie. Once she got to know him, he didn’t seem intimidating. When they’d first met she’d been a strange mix of intrigued, aroused, and terrified all at the same time. But the man had a soft side a mile wide—for her anyway.
His gaze landed on her and for one step, his gait hitched. Then a sinful smile curled his talented lips and he stopped about two feet from her. “Yes, ma’am. What can I help you with?”
Wetness trickled down the inside of those thighs from thoughts of what could happen in the next few minutes. Maybe leaving off the panties hadn’t been as good of an idea as she originally thought.
She stepped close enough that his intoxicating scent of leather, cologne, and man surrounded her. Close enough to brush the tips of her breasts against his firm bicep. Then she held up the keycard.
Her nipples hardened, visible through the silk blouse she wore. Not surprising since her bra was little more than a thin layer of lace. “My keycard doesn’t seem to be working. I’ve been trying to get into my room for the past five minutes with no luck. Mind giving it a whirl before I have to trek all the way down to the front desk in these shoes?”
His gaze started at the four-inch peep-toe heels, traveled up her bare calves, skimmed over her rounded hips, then lingered on her exposed cleavage. He raised an eyebrow and one side of his mouth twitched. The chances of him buying that lame story were slim, but at least he seemed willing to play along. “M
“Thank you.”
He overshot his reach, wrapped his hand around her wrist, and slowly stroked callused fingers across her skin as he relieved her of the key.
A dead woman would have risen from her coffin for more of that touch. There was something about the brush of a man’s coarse touch grazing over her sensitive skin that was almost unbearably erotic.
Not any man’s touch, just this man’s. Goosebumps erupted up and down her arms with just the five-second caress.
Once he had the key, he glided it into the lock—in the correct direction, of course—and was rewarded with the green light and snick of the unlocking door.
“Looks like you have the magic touch.” She winked as she opened the door and sashayed into the room. Spinning on one pointed heel, she faced him and held the door. “I’m Quinn, by the way. Care to come in for a thank you drink?” she asked, gesturing into the room. “It’s the least I can do.”
He stared at her face, his playful gaze heating her cheeks. Then, he took another slow tour of her body, and his expression went from teasing to smoldering in an instant. She’d worn a tailored shirt and kept the top two buttons open, revealing a hint of cleavage. Just enough catch and sustain his interest.
“It’s Tyler, and, yeah, I could use a drink,” he said as he strode into the room, muscles flexing and playing with each step.
She almost laughed out loud. The name Tyler was a longstanding joke between them. She’d once told him it was her favorite hot guy name. Ever since, he’d teased her about hiding a man named Tyler in their closet and letting him out when he wasn’t home.
Alyssa was as helpless to tear her attention from his body as he seemed to be from hers. “Scotch okay?” she asked, making her way to the small island that separated the living area from the en suite kitchenette. Two barstools rested in front of the island and she stepped between them, reaching for the bottle of Scotch she’d left in the room earlier.
“Scotch is perfect.”
“Great.” Her hands trembled slightly as she poured two glasses and recapped the bottle. He was close when she turned and held out the drink. It took a few seconds for his focus to rise to her face as his attention had clearly been on her ass while she prepared the drinks.
Darkened with lust, his leather-brown gaze bore into hers, stealing her breath. After pressing the glass into his hand, she lightly tapped her tumbler against his. “Cheers. To Good Samaritans, willing to help a random damsel in distress.”
A quick chuckle was all the reaction she received before he tossed his head back and downed his drink in one large gulp, his throat working with the force of his swallow. Then, he closed the gap between them, standing so close his Scotch-scented breath wafted across her cheek. “Drink up.” His voice was gravelly, dark, and rough, and she shivered in response.
So far, the encounter was playing out exactly as planned.
With a shake of her head, she handed her tumbler to him and he downed it as well before stalking closer to her. She didn’t want anything to dull this experience. Large hands landed on the marble countertop, on either side of her, pinning her to the island. She tilted her head up to see his face, and another quiver of anticipation rippled through her. What came next would be the stuff fantasies were made of; she’d put money on it.
“That skirt should be illegal,” he practically growled down at her. “It makes a man think very dirty thoughts.”
“Those are the best kind of thoughts.” The flirty back and forth was a blast and reminded her of how they used to be. It was about to get even better if the bulge behind his dark jeans was any indication.
She’d worn a curve-hugging pencil skirt. The kind that was so snug, it hindered her stride when she walked but did amazing things for her ass. Nice to know the effort hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“I’m not sure one drink is a sufficient thank you. I had things to do this evening. Maybe you should offer something else, to make up for screwing with my plans.” As he spoke, his large hands slipped under the hem of her skirt and began to work the close-fitting material up her thighs.
His hands were warm, callused, and strong as they slid over her flesh. God, she loved this. The slow seduction, the buildup that made her crazy with want. Her mind swam with delicious sensations, making a response difficult. “Um…did you have something specific in mind?” she managed to ask.
“Your pussy,” he said, and she gasped. Without the barrier of panties, she was embarrassingly wet. Her thighs were soaked with evidence of how his words and touch affected her.
Tyler’s hands finally reached her hips and he spread them over the globes of her ass. The skirt was bunched around her waist leaving her skin exposed to the air, his gaze, his touch, whatever he wanted. “Fuck. You’re not wearing panties,” he stated as he squeezed her ass.
“Nope,” she said with a sassy grin.
“Fuck me. I need to see. Right now.” Without any warning, he lifted her and plopped her down on the island. When her bare ass landed on the cold marble and she squeaked out a small protest. “Changed my mind. I’ll look in a minute. This first,” he said, his voice thick with need.
He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her with what felt like years of denied need and desire. All she could do was keep her head tipped back and surrender to his savage claiming. While he stole her senses with his mouth, he yanked at the pins securing her hair. They scattered around the kitchenette and her hair tumbled down her back. After he finished wrecking her hair, he moved on to her shirt.
The crushing pressure of his mouth moving against hers felt so good, so right. He tasted of Scotch and she bit his lower lip, sucking it into her mouth as he let out a groan. “Enough,” he said, ripping away.
They stared at each other, chests heaving. Her blouse was now untucked from the waistband of her gathered skirt, and all the buttons had been popped open. He gazed at her lace-covered breasts with a hungry glare. “Time for my thank you.”
One rough hand scooped under her thigh and lifted, placing her heeled foot on the barstool. As he repeated the action with her other leg, she was forced to brace her hands on the countertop behind her. Either that or tumble back due to the angle the position demanded. Her legs were bent at the knees and splayed open with a foot on each of the barstools, baring her sex to Tyler’s ravenous gaze.
“Lean back on your elbows,” he ordered without looking away from her drenched sex.
Ignoring his command wasn’t even a thought and she immediately complied. Thankfully, she still had a good view of him between her legs.
“Fuck that’s sexy,” he said as he gazed at her wet slit. He bent in close and inhaled, slowly, as though savoring a good cigar or fine wine. Even when he straightened, he didn’t look away. “Pink, wet, needy. You want me to make you feel good, gorgeous?”
Each word that left his mouth only served to ramp up her desire. His potent effect on her wasn’t lost on him. He watched as more arousal eased from her body, preparing her for whatever he had in mind. And he needed to get on it soon or she might have to take matters into her own hands, literally. As it was, her nipples had tightened to aching points of need and her pussy craved to be filled by him. Any part of him.
He seemed to be as affected as she was if the shallowing out of his breaths was any indication. As though he sensed her train of thought, he cupped himself, rubbing a hand over his erection through the thick denim.
She licked her lips. With a tortured groan, he dropped to his knees between her spread legs. Being six-foot-two was an advantage in this case, allowing his mouth to line up perfectly with her center.
But still, he waited, watched, breathed.
Alyssa could barely swallow around the thickness in her throat. “Please,” she whispered, low and with such desperation. She couldn’t remember a time when the need for him was such a harsh demand. As though it was essential to her survival.
“Tell me what you need.”
Anything he was willing to give. “I need you to do something. Touch me, lick me…anything.”
“Anything?” he practically growled.
“Mmm,” was all she could manage.
Without warning, he turned his head and sunk his teeth into the tender skin of her inner thigh, just inches away from the junction connecting her leg to her pelvis.
“Oh my God,” she cried, as the sharp sting of his teeth registered. She really wasn’t into pain but liked riding that fine line between pleasure and pain, where the sensations morphed together to intensify the ecstasy.
Laving the mark with his warm tongue, he forged a path closer and closer to where she longed for him most. When he reached her empty pussy, he took a long lick straight up to her clit, flicking it with his tongue.
“Oh, thank you,” she said on a breathy exhalation as her hips arched to meet his face.
His low chuckle vibrated against her, eliciting a sharp gasp. Then it was as though her taste hit his senses and he lost all control. Unyielding hands gripped her ass and yanked her to the very edge of the counter, eliciting a high-pitched yelp. Then he buried his face in her pussy and she cried out as intense pleasure swamped her entire body.
For the past two years, her world had been spinning on a different axis. Upside down, backward, doing crazy loop-de-loops. All it took was a few seconds of pleasure and connection to someone she loved more than her own life to bring everything to a grinding halt, then get it rotating again in the right direction.
Now, how to get back to the point where this was an everyday occurrence? Because only then would she finally heal and move forward with her life.
With their life.
Chapter Eight
Everything that didn’t involve the feeling of Tyler’s mouth on her sex faded into the background. The confusion of her strained marriage, persistent grief over her daughter’s passing, the stress of being back to work after so long—it all disappeared for a short while as Tyler reminded her of what it was like to be a desirable woman.
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