"Answer me."
"No," he says finally. "They didn't go away. They're still there. But that's not why I came back, Liv. I came because you're still my best friend. Because I'll always protect you. No matter what."
"You're an idiot," I tell him, my voice breaking.
"Why's that?"
Instead of answering, I gather every ounce of courage I possess, grip his shirt in my fists, and close my eyes as I rise on tiptoes to press my lips against his.
I'm done waiting for him to make a move. I lost him once; I'm not losing him again. He might not be the same Tyler who left two years ago, but the core of him—the man I've always loved and believed I could never have—is still there. I can feel it.
For one terrifying moment, he doesn't respond, and I fear I've made a terrible mistake. Then his arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him as he kisses me back.
His lips are thick and firm against mine, confident in a way I hadn't expected. One of his hands slides up my back, pressing me even closer as the kiss deepens. We stumble around the small room, lost in each other, hands exploring, breathing ragged.
Somehow my sweater ends up on the floor, followed by his cut and T-shirt. His hands are everywhere, leaving trails of fireacross my skin. I fumble with his belt, desperate to feel more of him, to erase the distance that's kept us apart for years.
Soon we're down to our underwear, both of us breathing hard, staring at each other with wide eyes. The sight of him nearly undressed makes my mouth dry. His broad shoulders, the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, the scars that tell stories of his time in combat. A particularly vicious one runs along his thigh, evidence of the injury that still causes him pain.
"What's happening here?" he asks, his voice rough with desire but his eyes seeking reassurance.
"Something that should have happened a long time ago," I tell him, running my hands over his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath my palm.
His expression grows serious. "What about Devin?"
"I haven't felt anything for him in a long, long time," I say. "I was just too afraid to leave. But now?" I meet his gaze directly. "Now I'm strong enough for that. Strong enough to look you in the eyes and ask you to stay with me."
He takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've waited for this moment my whole life," he says. "Never dreamed it would happen in a motel room, but I'll take what I can get."
Before I can respond, he scoops me up in his arms, making me feel weightless and precious. He lays me gently on the bed, which creaks in protest, and begins kissing a path down my body. My neck, my collarbone, the tops of my breasts still covered by my black bra, down my stomach to the edge of my matching panties.
My heart pounds as he slides a finger beneath the elastic, his eyes locked on mine, burning with an intensity that makes meshiver. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, giving me one last chance to back out.
"I've never been surer of anything," I tell him, and it's the absolute truth.
That seems to be all the permission he needs. His finger begins circling my clit through the fabric of my panties, applying just the right pressure to make my hips buck involuntarily. I'm already embarrassingly wet, my body responding to his touch like it was made for him.
He slides my panties down my legs with agonizing slowness, his eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin. I should feel self-conscious. My body isn't perfect, especially compared to his, but the hunger in his gaze makes me feel beautiful. Desirable.
"Fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, spreading my legs and settling between them.
When his mouth makes contact with my pussy, I nearly come off the bed. His tongue is hot and insistent, running the length of my slit before circling my clit with devastating precision. I hadn't realized how touch-starved I was until this moment, how long it's been since I felt cherished rather than used.
Goosebumps erupt across my skin as he continues, his tongue alternating between broad strokes and focused pressure on my clit. My belly clenches with building pleasure, my back arching off the bed. I stretch my arms above my head, gripping the sheets and biting my lower lip hard enough to hurt, needing to ground myself in the reality of this moment.
His fingers dig into my inner thighs, holding me open as he works me over with his mouth. There's nothing gentle about the way he's devouring me. This isn't a man performing a chore or seeking a quick reward. This is worship, pure and dedicated.He's not stopping, maintaining a steady rhythm that's driving me wild.
No man has ever touched me like this before, as if I'm precious and worth going crazy for. Tyler doesn't seem to care about my curves or the slight roll of my belly. His focus is solely on my pleasure, on taking me apart piece by piece with his mouth.
I lean forward, wanting to see him, and the sight nearly finishes me on the spot. Tyler is still on his knees, his face buried so deeply between my thighs that I can barely see his eyes or mouth, just his short dark hair. I grab a handful of it, holding him in place.
"Please don't stop," I gasp, feeling the pressure building to an unbearable level. "I'm close. So fucking close."
My arms are trembling, saliva trickling from the corner of my mouth as I lose control of even the most basic bodily functions. Then I feel his tongue probing at my entrance, circling teasingly without quite pushing inside, and I nearly lose my mind with want.
"Please," I beg, my voice breaking. "Tyler, please fuck me. I need you inside me. Now."
He looks up at me, his chin glistening with my juices, a smug smile on his face. I can't help but touch myself as he rises to his knees, rubbing my clit as I watch him strip off his briefs. His cock springs free, thick and long and throbbing, and I rub myself harder at the sight.
