My Tye

by Kristin Daniels

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I know you didn’t want to bring me here. And I know you didn’t want to tell me that.”

  “I meant what I said before,” he said. “I’ll take my cues from you, Laine. I’ll give you what you need. As much as I may disagree, you’ll never have to question my willingness to do that.”

  She met his gaze then—the steeliness of his eyes in the dim room reaching out to her and the sincerity pouring from them hitting her full-force. He had her frozen with that one look. So frozen she was afraid to breathe. So frozen she had to turn away.

  She went to her dresser, opening drawers and pulling out a few pairs of underwear and jeans, along with her favorite old sweatpants. The closet was next, where she yanked out a duffel bag and stuffed all of that into it, then ripped a few t-shirts and an old, ratty hoodie from their hangers and added them to the bag as well.

  When she spun to toss the duffel onto the bed, she stopped mid-throw. It was as if a wrecking ball came blasting through the wall from behind her bed. It breathed over the surface of the mattress and headed straight for her. All the air rushed from her lungs as it rammed into her. All she could see were splatters of paint flying off her and landing everywhere around the room. All she could hear was her own scream inside her head.

  He’d been here.

  Fuck trying to compartmentalize this. Fuck trying to deal with all of it rationally. Her attacker had ruined this room for her. He’d ruined her house. His stench was here, it was everywhere. She’d always smell it. She’d always remember what he tried to do to her. What he did do to her. The pain he wanted to cause.

  The duffel fell from her hand and dropped to the floor. She bolted from the room, practically running for the attached bathroom all while trying like hell to ignore the sting burning her eyes and the lump building in her throat. She yanked the cabinet below the sink open, grabbing for her makeup bag and standing to toss random items haphazardly inside it. Her toothbrush, an eyelash curler, a tube of Icy Hot and a trial size bottle of shampoo. None of the items made any sense.

  She didn’t make any sense.

  “Laine.”

  Tye’s voice came to her from the doorway, his concern evident in the low tone. Still, she didn’t slow down.

  “What?” She didn’t stop for her response, she just kept on throwing odd toiletries inside the bag while losing the battle to keep her composure.

  “Laine.”

  Again, his tone was low and troubled, but this time her name on his lips came out with more significance attached to it. More dominance. And oddly enough, more protectiveness. She set the bag on the countertop, flattening her palms on either side of it before looking up into the mirror. The purple around her eye almost glowed under the fluorescent light hanging over the mirror in her bathroom. The bruise masked the dark circle she knew lay hidden underneath it. She knew it was there, since there was a matching one staring back at her from its home under her other eye.

  God, she hated this. The anger. The weariness. The fear. Every last bit of it.

  Tye came into the room then, and stood behind her.

  “Sorry,” she said to his reflection.

  He drew his eyebrows together. “For?”

  She swirled her hand in the air. “This. All of it.”

  “Why are you apologizing for something you have no control over?”

  She looked away from him, pushing herself from the counter and running her hands down the front of her shirt. His shirt. “I have control over my reactions. At least, I thought I did.”

  “Don’t you think it’s more important to be honest with yourself than to bury what’s going on inside? Hiding away doesn’t usually work.”

  “Neither does telling all,” she said, thinking about last night at Euphoria.

  “Depends on who you’re talking to,” he contradicted. “You can talk to me, you know.”

  She turned and leaned her rear against the counter, dropping her chin to her chest while gripping the marble’s edge until she was sure her knuckles had turned white. “I hate he was here. In my room.” She glanced up at Tye. “He never should’ve been here, just as I should never have gone to that club last night.”

  “Don’t second guess yourself based on hindsight.”

  She blew out a humorless chuckle at that. A second later, she said, “I wanted you here. In my room with me. Before all this, you were the one I wanted here.”

  His jaw tensed just as the set of his eyebrows eased. “Laine…”

  “And now he’s ruined that.”

  Tye edged closer. “Only if you let him.”

  She met his eyes, once again fighting the sting in hers. “How can I not?”

  He settled his hands first on her shoulders, staying quiet, even as his heady gaze told all. As he stroked down her arms, her breath quickened and her chest tightened. When he came to her hands, he didn’t take them into his as she thought he might do. Instead, he flattened his palms over them, trapping them between his and the counter. He held her in place, pressing the rest of his body against hers.

  “Because I’m here now. Together we can dim what he did here. We can make it so you don’t ever have to remember.”

  Ah, God, she wanted that more than anything.

  When she moved to wrap her arms around him, he pressed his hands more firmly over hers. “No. Don’t move. Let me do this.”

  Let him? Heaven above, right here, right now, she’d beg him do anything he wanted.

  But she didn’t have to. She didn’t have to say anything because he took control. He gave her what she needed without having to utter a single word. He gave her what she needed when he kissed her.

  A kiss that said more than any of the others she’d shared with him.

  He wasn’t rough, but there wasn’t much gentleness to the kiss either. He planted his mouth over her lips like he wanted to consume her. And she wanted him to. She wanted him to take her away, if only for a little while, if only in her own mind. If only in her own body.

  He left her lips and nibbled across her jaw until he came to her ear. “I’m going to let go, but I don’t want you to move. Keep your hands where they are,” he whispered.

  Her only answer was a slight nod and the closing of her eyes. There was nothing for her to say, anyway. Nothing for her to do but let go of everything around her. Everything but Tye.

  There was nothing for her to do but trust him.

  He came back to her lips, blowing her mind with how forceful yet gentle he could be at the same time. He brought his hands to her waist, gripping her lightly, making her mind wonder what he might do next.

  It didn’t have to wonder for too long. He slid his hands upward, stopping inches below her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, hadn’t since she’d been in the hospital. Her nipples tightened and her heart raced as she waited, as he tortured her by not moving anything other than his lips over hers.

  She wanted him to touch her, damn it. She wanted the weight of his hands on her breasts, the heat and pressure of his palms covering her aching nipples.

  A zing shot from her stomach straight downward, heating a trail to her pussy as his hands crept higher along her rib cage with each beat of her heart. And then he cupped the sides of her breasts while skimming his thumbs tenderly over her nipples.

  She moaned into his mouth—she couldn’t hold it in—and clutched the edge of the counter harder.

  “Breathe,” he whispered over her lips.

  Wasn’t she? God no, she wasn’t. She felt like she’d forgotten how. He moved his left hand, bringing it between her breasts and stroking her there with his fingertips. Up. Down. Easy.

  She opened her eyes and locked onto his gaze then, breathing with him, timing every inhale and exhale in perfect sync with his.

  “That’s it,” he said, holding her within his stare.

  She trembled, but it wasn’t because she was cold. She trembled from the fire racing across her skin, from the power in his eyes as he held her captured. From the li
ght touch of his finger as he trailed it lower. At her bellybutton, he tugged on the shirt, bunching it within his fingers until the hem was firmly in his grip.

  Their first skin-on-skin contact as he smoothed his hand over her stomach had her aching to move, had her dying to touch him as well. When her arms flinched, he shook his head slightly. “No, don’t. Keep your hands there, Laine.”

  It was then that it dawned on her—this was bondage without bindings. His words were enough to keep her bound. His demand enough to have her willing to submit.

  He took her lips again, and she practically saw stars. Her entire body lit up. Her head spun, slowly at first, then faster and faster. He massaged his hand toward her hip, then moved on to her lower back before exploring deeper. Cupping her ass, he pressed his body against hers again. Chest to chest, hip to hip, and thigh to thigh. He held her tighter this time, tightly enough there was no mistaking how caught up in this he was too.

  The long ridge of his cock hidden behind his zipper had her moaning all over again. She raised her rear off the edge of the counter, pushing back at him, wanting more. He moved his other hand, wasting no time as he slid it down and around to the other cheek of her ass. He helped her along by lifting her, grinding against her, killing her little by little.

  She broke away from his kiss and tossed her head back. “Tye…”

  She wasn’t looking for a response and he didn’t give her one. Instead, he continued on to her neck, licking and kissing her there, finding that one spot sure to drive her insane.

  “Ah God. More,” she whispered.

  More. Harder. Longer. She wanted it all. And she wanted it now.

  In the next heartbeat, he gave it to her.

  “Up,” he ordered. “On the counter.”

  Without releasing her grip, she let him lift her to where he wanted her. He held her there, her ass on the edge of the counter, teetering and unsure yet eager for anything and everything he had to offer her. He brought his hands between them once again, fingering the string inside the shorts where it lay hidden next to her skin. He met her stare as he pulled the cord slowly, inch by little inch, until it popped free of its bow. She bit her lower lip and turned her gaze away from his, her heart going haywire as he worked his fingers underneath the waistband of his borrowed basketball shorts.

  “No, Laine. Stay here,” he said, bringing one finger to her chin and turning her back.

  Oh, she was here. Maybe she was too here. She’d dreamed of this for too long, of him touching her like this, of him calling the shots and taking care of her. Tears stung her eyes again, but not because of any sadness or anger or fear.

  “Get out of your head, baby. Just feel this. All of it. Feel me.”

  God, she did. She felt him. She felt every touch with a crazy supersensitivity she’d never experienced before. She felt his breath hot on her face. His hips nestled between her shaky thighs. The heat dancing from his fingertips as he loosened the waistband of the shorts, then the fire from them as he skimmed over her belly, heading lower. She felt her wetness coat them as he slicked them between her folds, as he brushed over her clit for the first time.

  She sucked back a quick, hard breath, holding it in for what seemed like forever before letting it out on a long hiss.

  And then he did it again. Slowly, yet more firmly. She thought her fingers might break from how hard she held on to the counter. She thought she might lose her mind if he didn’t touch her like that again.

  Not that she had anything to worry about. The intensity bursting from him kept her spellbound. She lost herself within his eyes, within every hard and heavy beat of his heart. She could hear each thump. Hell, she shared each one with him.

  He ravaged her lips the instant he delved deeper. He thrust first one finger inside her, then another. She wanted to scream out. She wanted to sob like a baby.

  But more than any of that, she wanted him to make her come. She needed it, like a junkie needed a fix. For that to happen, though, she’d have to do as he said. She’d have to get out of her own head. She‘d have to give up everything inside her mind if she wanted this amazing feeling to continue, if she wanted to see it through to where she knew he could take her.

  With his free hand, he lifted her leg, guiding her so that her legs naturally wrapped around his hips. He nibbled at her mouth while whispering sexy snippets to her.

  “Easy now…”

  “God, baby…”

  “Yes. So sweet, so wet…”

  Each word sent her flying. Every growl he let loose between the words brought her closer.

  “Tye…”

  His touches began to meld together, over her clit, inside her. It felt as though he were touching her everywhere and all at once, and it took everything she had inside her not to let go of the counter and reach for him. The physical and mental denial of that, of his earlier instructions, only amped her up that much more.

  She closed her eyes, breathing out while he breathed in. Holding her entire body taut, she fought the orgasm rising within in her, all while cursing that it hadn’t yet unleashed itself to claim her.

  So many sensations bombarded her—the tingles turning into electrical zings, the breaths that became whispers, the sighs morphing into moans. She was there, right on the edge of where she wanted to be, but couldn’t quite push herself to take that final step.

  Not until he spoke once again.

  “Now, Laine. Come now.”

  Those simple words flipped the release switch inside her. There was no stopping the rush consuming her then. No stopping the ferocity with which it overtook her. She was coming, and completely helpless to do anything but ride it out. The rush centered around his fingers before bursting outward to engulf the rest of her. Every inch of her went with it. Every ounce of her reacted to it. Her nipples tightened, her toes curled. Her thighs cramped from holding him between them so tightly.

  “Perfect,” was all he whispered to her.

  At that moment, under his control, she felt perfect. Empowered. A strange disparity maybe, but one that alternately made so much sense to her.

  He eased off on his touches, bringing her down slowly. Despite the energy racing through her body, or maybe because of it, the stabbing ice picks made a return appearance across her forehead. She didn’t want him know that, but like everything else, he picked up on it without her having to say a word.

  He slid his hand out of the shorts while bringing his other around to support her between her shoulder blades. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he had the chance.

  “Please don’t apologize.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” He caressed the tense area between her drawn eyebrows with the pad of his thumb. “You’re hurting.”

  She slowed her breath and loosed her death grip on the counter. “Only a little. The rest pretty much makes up for it.”

  He grinned a little at that. “Maybe we found the cure for concussions?”

  She leaned into the stroke of his thumb a little more and sighed. “I think we found the cure for something.”

  Just as she was about to ask if she could let go of the counter, he made sure she was steadied and then reached for her hands. He held them gently, rubbing circles over her knuckles to soothe the ache he had to know was there.

  “You were right,” she said.

  “Was I?”

  She nodded gingerly. “He’s still here, but not as much as before. You’re here more now. The memory of this, of you, won’t ever leave this room.”

  Or her heart. For the moment, though, she was keeping that part to herself.

  Bringing her to her feet, he took her into his arms. She stood on her tiptoes and held on to him just as tightly, realizing that he never asked for, nor took, anything in return. He’d given her pleasure, along with so much more, only to end up soothing her once again. The balance between them was so skewed, and he had to be feeling the effects of that.

  “Are you…” she started to whisper into his ear. “I mean
…”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I get what I want just by giving you what you need.”

  Which he had. He’d given her more, really, than he’d ever know. But that still didn’t keep her from wanting to give him something, no matter how little, right back.

  “Let me take you home,” he said then, sufficiently ending that part of the conversation before it ever really got started.

  Even though she was home, she knew what he meant. He might’ve taken a few steps toward ridding her house if its demons, but when all was said and done, it still wasn’t enough. She was more than ready to get out of here and go back to the ranch with him. And as they walked out of the bathroom together and he picked up the duffel bag from where she’d dropped it on the floor in her bedroom, she wondered if she’d ever truly be ready to return here.

  She wondered if she’d ever truly want to.

  Chapter Eleven

  Four days had passed since Tye had taken Laine back to her house. Four long, excruciating days had gone by since he last touched her. Sure, he’d kissed her. Gently. Quickly. And yes, he’d held her as they sat on the couch at night watching TV until she fell asleep in his arms and he put her to bed. His bed. Alone. There’d been nothing more than that.

  The effects of her concussion had all but disappeared. The once-raw circles around her neck, wrists and ankles were healing well and now looked like nothing more than patches of rough, dry skin. The bruise around her eye had turned a pale shade of yellow. She’d taken to hiding it under a light coat of makeup, which she’d told him made her feel “at least halfway normal”. He didn’t think it was too much of a coincidence that seeing her face injury-free went a long way in helping him out, too.

  Yet despite all that, he still hadn’t touched her. And all the holding back was starting to get to him.

  He promised himself after that night in the bathroom that he wouldn’t move on her like that again until she was completely healed. He knew the intensity of her orgasm hadn’t mixed well with her concussion. And even though she hadn’t complained, not even once, he still wanted to kick his own ass for causing her any sort of pain at all.