My breath hitches as he kisses my cheek, lingering there, hesitant. Like he can’t stand firmly on two feet. Very rarely does he hesitate, and the fact that I make him nervous makes me blush harder.
Then, as if reluctant to make the decision, he turns my face with his free hand and places a heated kiss on my lips. “I can’t wait to get you back into bed to fuck you. Fuck you until you can’t walk, speak, or even breathe.” With another kiss to my lips, he continues forward.
As though he didn’t just leave me speechless.
As though his words didn’t leave me wanting and needy and hot.
“Come on, Jones.” He waves at me, and I know he’s smirking, even though I can’t see his face. “We have more dogs to walk before I can have my way with you.”
Face as red as a Bloody Mary, I jog to catch up with him. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Careful.” He winks. “Don’t hurt yourself playing with big words… or in this case, big dick.”
I shove him to the side, but of course, he doesn’t budge. It’s like trying to shove an oak tree, deeply rooted in the ground and not going anywhere.
Except I have to repeatedly tell myself he is.
He won’t stay.
Even if I secretly want him to.
CHAPTER 37
Ty
“You shouldn’t have started me out with grumpy old Ace,” I say to Emma as I’m dragged to a tree for the beagle to pee once again. He’s marking his territory every three steps like a map. “I had expectations that these dogs wouldn’t drag me around.”
“Oops,” she says with a tilt of her head, like she did it on purpose, then keeps walking along the sidewalk.
Her hips sway naturally, like curtains in a slight breeze. Soft. Effortless.
Fucking hot.
I adjust myself as casually as possible at the sight.
At the memory of her from just a few hours ago, her ass cheeks in my hands as I pumped in and out of her.
The way she opens up to me, letting her guard down the more time we spend together, I crave it all from her.
I shake my head, my eyes crossing at how wild she makes me.
As I walk back to her, Max the beagle makes it as difficult as possible, like I’m dragging him to the vet for shots.
“You should really wear looser pants. Like large baggy sweats.”
“There’s something wrong with my leggings?”
“Yes. They’re too fucking sexy, and there’s nothing I can do about it right now.”
She hums, a smile playing across her lips before she dips her head down.
“I’ll make you pay for that.”
When she peers at me, her expression is one of challenge, her one eyebrow tilted higher than the other. “I’d like to see you try.”
God, this woman.
Once we reach the shelter again, at the end of her volunteer shift, Bailey greets us at the front desk. “How were they?”
“Great, as always,” Emma answers brightly.
“Speak for yourself,” I cut in. “My last three were terrors. The little shits.”
Bailey laughs, blushing a little. I look down to make sure my hard-on isn’t visible. When I confirm it’s not, I look back at her heated face.
Which only grows redder once I hear a low voice.
“Hey.”
I turn around and find Mason, his expression hard and unyielding as he visibly grinds his teeth. “Hey man.”
He shakes my hand with a little more force than is necessary.
“Mason, hey,” Emma says, nervously tugging on her ponytail. I hate that he makes her nervous. I hate that he has any effect on her at all. “We were just leaving.” She turns back to Bailey. “Sorry again for being so late.”
“But it worked out,” I add, “since I was here to help.”
“Yes, thank goodness. Otherwise, the whole shelter would’ve shut down. You saved the day.” Emma bats her eyelashes at me sarcastically, making me laugh. Then, she rolls her eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t freak when Max got a drop of pee on your shoe.”
“Hey, these are my new Jordans. Not even cute beagles can mess with my Jordans.”
“We’re leaving,” Emma says, pulling my arm.
Mason rounds to stand behind the desk, shuffling like he wants to say something. Just as I turn around, he finally speaks up. “Hey, can I talk to you about something, Emma?”
She works her jaw back and forth before handing me her car keys. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I hesitate, my turn to grind my teeth in frustration. What could he possibly want to talk to her about? In private?
I reluctantly take the keys from her, then kiss her on the cheek, glaring at Mason where Emma can’t see.
Before I go, Mason clears his throat and calls out to me, “And maybe watch the swearing in front of the ladies, okay, man?”
“What?” When I turn around, he’s standing in front of Bailey like he’s shielding her from me, then holds Emma’s arm, which makes my blood boil. She wiggles out of his clutch and shakes her head.
I open my mouth, but Bailey cuts in, “He’s fine. Ty, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. After all, I’m not ten anymore.” She smiles, but it seems forced, her comment directed more toward Mason as she glares at him.
His face turns red, and I believe my job here is done.
I walk out toward the car when I hear Mason talking with Emma.
About me.
At the sound of my name, I stop in my tracks, ready to punch that asshole in the face and knock all his perfect teeth out.
“He’ll leave, you know? He’s not the kind of guy who sticks around, and you’ll be brokenhearted. Again.”
Something tells me the smug bastard raises his voice to make sure I hear him. For him to let me know he’s the better choice between us two.
But at this moment, I don’t care about him or his tone. I care about her broken heart.
Emma’s had her heart broken, which she briefly told me about, but Mason knows all the gory details. It’s obvious from his tone.
I hate myself for not knowing her like Mason does.
Most of all, I hate myself for walking toward her car without a word.
There’s a reason I haven’t let myself get too close to Emma. There’s a reason I can’t offer her the love she wants or deserves—the big wedding and blissful marriage.
The truth is, my heart is broken too.
It’s been broken for the last thirteen years and never fully mended.
And Emma deserves more than only half a heart.
Knock, knock.
The knock on the door echoed throughout the house, cutting off the laughter bubbling inside me at my dad’s joke about a walrus waddling into a bar.
I don’t remember the details because the knock on the door overshadowed it all, including our ability to joke at all after that night.
“I’m sorry to drop by at this hour,” one officer said to my dad, my mother still in the kitchen drying off the plates after our family dinner. The guy looked familiar—maybe one of my dad’s golfing buddies—but I couldn’t focus on anything other than the next words out of his mouth. “And we’re even more sorry to bring you this… terrible news.”
I sit up in bed when I hear a crash. Rubbing my eyes, I tell myself it was all in the nightmare.
My mom dropped a plate when she heard the officers explain the “incident” involving my sister. The sound of the shattering plate still echoes in my head as I throw my legs over the side of my bed.
“He’s right, you know? Mason, he was right about me not being the guy for you,” I said to Emma yesterday. We stood outside her apartment next to her car after we volunteered at the shelter.
“I thought this was supposed to be fun, anyway,” she challenged, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eye.
I forced a smile, silence settling between us. I couldn’t bring myself to admit one way or the other because I knew the truth.
We could never be more.
“Even so, Mason was right, although he’s a jackass. Like worse than Cole DeWitt from my high school.” I chuckled and cupped her cheek in my large hand, unable to stop myself from touching her.
“Who?” She leaned into my hand, her eyes twinkling.
“Just some jackass I went to school with who liked to stuff me into lockers and trip me right as I walked by Stacy Cowen at lunch. Every day.” I dropped my hand to my side.
“No way were you picked on as a teen.”
I exhaled, then said, “I was, though.”
She shook her head, like she couldn’t believe it. It’s funny how people change, and I wondered what she was like in high school. If a girl like her would’ve given me the time of day.
The thought made me smile, because although I hated school and feeling inferior, I look back and find amusement. Mostly because if any of those guys saw me now, they’d run in terror, no doubt.
I throw my covers to the side, rubbing my hands over my face like I’m trying to scrub it clean from my past.
“Stay,” Emma said last night when I told her I had to go earlier than planned.
I gulped, my gaze trained on the ground. “We have practice in the morning. Leo’s been having me run some of them, so I need to be sharp.”
When I glanced back up, she saw it—I was sure of it.
The lie.
She knew I was lying, and before she could say anything, I kissed her lips, then cheek, resting my forehead to hers to allow myself the luxury of her enlightening presence.
I couldn’t sleep all night, thinking about the reason my relationships never last and why I stopped trying altogether.
Why I can’t offer Emma more, even if I’m beginning to want to.
In the bathroom, I wash my face over and over again, and when I look in the mirror, my eyes are bloodshot.
I search my reflection, begging for peace.
Peace that’ll never come.
Closure I’ll never get.
Because the fucker responsible still roams the earth, free and uncaring that he took away the most important person in my life.
CHAPTER 38
Emma
“Meet me in the liquor closet in five minutes,” Ty whispers, then slaps my ass.
I check around to make sure no one sees us. Nodding toward him, I hide my smile and make my way to the main room and behind the bar. I scan my left and right like I’m a spy, then open the liquor closet door to wait for him.
It’s quiet in here, the music barely audible. My breathing quickens, my heart pounding faster and louder in my chest.
Sebastian did it. He opened his small boutique hotel he’s been dreaming about since he was a teenager. It gives us all hope. Sometimes we just need the extra nudge from following someone else living their dream to make us believe we can do the same, and not just for our careers.
The door opens, and I drop my hands to my sides. Heat creeps down my neck to my core. Ty’s large frame seems even bigger as he stands in the doorway. With a click of the lock behind him, he stalks toward me without hesitation.
Want.
He wants me as much as I want him.
He kisses me fiercely, no holding back. He’s never held back when it comes to action. Action he can take without too much thinking or too many words. I accept his lack of words because he says so much in moments like these. Like his body language can scream in the place of words.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He leans his forehead against mine, our pants deafening in the silence of this room.
My chest expands farther when he snakes his hand up my thigh and under my dress, toying with my thin lacy thong. Our gazes remain on his hand, until he sinks one finger, then another, into me.
My eyes flutter closed, and my head rolls to the side, resting on the wall behind me.
His strong arms hold me up as he works me slowly, as the tension builds, as my grip on his shoulders tightens.
This man, the one I used to hate.
The one who repulsed me with his playboy tendencies and arrogant smirk.
He lights me on fire.
His touch is everything I didn’t know I’d been missing. As I buried myself in work and the studio the last couple years, I didn’t think I was missing out on anything. I was too focused on showing the world—mainly Brant—that I could survive without a man.
But this man? Ty? He’s shown me how good it can be. How much pleasure I can feel. With just a small touch to my bare skin, he can ignite something inside me I thought was lost.
I squeeze my eyes shut as he pushes his fingers deeper into me, holding me against the wall with his hard body. I let out a soft moan, my hips riding his fingers, shamelessly searching for release.
“That’s it, baby. Let loose for me.” He nips on my earlobe. “Come on my fingers.”
He pulls back, my leg still wrapped around him and keeping him close. With my lips parting, I let out one last moan and fall apart for him.
He covers my mouth with his other hand, likely because I tend to get loud when he’s involved. He watches me in amazement, with stars in those blue eyes like the clearest sky. Like I’m the only thing he sees. For a moment, I forget that he’s been more distant lately, ever since we volunteered together at the shelter.
For a moment, my heart is full, the sun shining and birds chirping.
Then the sky darkens as the clouds roll in, and I realize the chirping is just from clinking liquor bottles around us as he bumps into the shelf. I reach down to grab my clutch, but not before I catch the change in his expression. Swallowing down my disappointment and disdain, I avoid his gaze as the tension in the room changes. He steps away only a few inches, but it feels like eons.
I gulp. “Wait a few minutes before exiting after me.”
“If anyone asks, I’ll just say I fooled around with a waitress.” He retreats, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His words make me inwardly flinch, but this is what I agreed to.
Just sex.
Hot, secret sex.
I continue watching him, mesmerized. His button-up is wrinkled under his vest, his tattoos visible in the V of his shirt. He looks too good.
Too dangerous.
His magic powers to bring pleasure are too much, but paired with his heart-stopping looks and big heart? Forget about it.
I was a goner the moment I laid eyes on him and watched him dance.
As he steps farther back, putting more distance between us, I wonder what I’ve done to upset him. I often wonder what’s changed since our afternoon at the shelter almost three months ago. Our dinner with Kendall and Sebastian last week went the same as this moment. He fled after teasing me in the bathroom of the restaurant.
Last night, he didn’t stay over like he normally does when he’s in town.
I told myself it was because of the holidays and his travel schedule.
Because he was helping Sebastian with the hotel opening.
It’s been a busy time for all of us. I went home to visit my mom, who’s worse than ever. Seeing her only made my guilt worse too. It eats at me for leaving her, but my aunt reassured me everything is under control and that I shouldn’t worry.
I got to see my dad briefly too, but I mostly spent my visit with my sisters, who tried to teach me how to use Netflix. They were so excited, I didn’t have the heart to tell them I’m an expert with all things streaming.
Ty and I spoke a handful of times while we were apart.
He’s the only one who can offer me comfort. I can lose myself in him, and I thought we’d be back to normal by now.
I’ve held out hope that he’d snap out of it and return to his playful nature, but so far, it’s only getting worse.
“Unless you want to tell them it’s me.” I shrug, hopeful.
If he thinks I’m embarrassed to tell people about us, he’s wrong. And I told him last night that I would come clean to Kendall. That I wanted to tell her everything about us. But he shrugged a
nd continued dressing before he gave me a peck on the lips and left.
“Nah.” He rubs his bottom lip with his finger, chuckling. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I open my mouth to say something else, the question, “What’s wrong?” on the tip of my tongue.
Dread pools in my stomach like a small puddle. I walk quickly out the door, unable to figure out what to say or do. I walk away before he walks out on me.
I won’t beg him to stay.
I won’t trap him into staying.
I want him to stay because he wants to. Because he can’t be without me.
Because this thing between us isn’t just casual sex anymore. It could be more, and it’s not just in my imagination. It’s real.
Shaking my head, I make my way back to the party, ready for Sebastian’s big night.
On top of his grand opening, he’s proposing to my best friend in the world. He hasn’t told me about it, but I saw his phone with a picture of the ring on it.
And Ty let it slip but made me promise not to tell.
I make my way to the small banquet room that’s really just the lobby with a bar to the side. There are a few tables for dining as well, but they’ve been pushed to the side for the night. The open space and movie posters with the vintage bar give a nostalgic tone to the hotel, which I love.
Sebastian went with a vintage Hollywood theme, calling the hotel The Martini Inn.
It’s perfect for LA, yet unique in its own way.
My heart clenches when Ty rounds the corner. He goes straight to the bar, a small group of his and Sebastian’s friends from Naked Heat clapping him on the back. He takes a shot, his expression unflinching, then makes his way outside.
I try to calm my racing heart by taking a drink of champagne and laughing with Kendall and Margo, but the nausea only worsens as the clock ticks. Ty enters the room again with Sebastian in tow, and I set my champagne down, ready for the grand proposal.
I pull Kendall in for a hug and do my best to put on a positive front. This is their night, and they don’t need me to be a selfish, blubbering mess because of Ty.
Let Loose for Me Page 18
