“I love you.”
His eyes widened, and for a heart-stopping moment, he said nothing. Then he smiled.
“I love you, too, Tyler,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”
I set the guitar aside and reached for him, pulling him close for a kiss to back up what I’d said.
“Best Christmas gift ever,” Marcus murmured.
I felt lighter than I had in years. “I didn’t plan it.”
“Those are the best gifts,” he said, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “The unexpected ones.”
FOURTEEN
Marcus
Tyler grinned at me,and I wondered if I was being too sentimental with the love you’s and pushing him into something he didn’t really feel—but then, the kisses changed and became more heated.
The air between us shifted as Tyler touched my face, fingers tracing my jaw before sliding into my hair.
I couldn’t help the slight sound that escaped me when he tugged me closer. The piano bench was hardly the most comfortable place for this, but I didn’t care. All I could focus on was Tyler—his warmth, his scent, the way his breath hitched when I slid my hands under his sweater to the skin beneath.
“Should we—” I started to ask, but Tyler silenced me with another kiss, leaving no doubt about where his mind had gone.
“Your room or mine?” he whispered.
My heart hammered. “Mine’s closer.”
We separated with reluctance, and I took his hand, coming face-to-face with Alex in the hallway. He was on duty tonight, and Jazz was with him.
“Marcus, Tyler,” he said with a wink, but we were too intent on getting up the stairs to stop and talk. Alex’s chuckle followed us. We moved quickly but quietly. Every few steps, one of us would pull the other into a doorway or against a wall for another stolen kiss, making the short journey to my room three times longer than it should have been.
When we reached my door, I fumbled with the key, distracted by Tyler’s lips on the back of my neck, his arms wrapped around my waist from behind. The lockfinallygave way, and we stumbled inside, the door closing behind us with a soft click that seemed to seal us in a private world.
“Sorry about the mess,” I said, kicking a discarded sweater under the bed.
Tyler laughed, taking my face between his hands. “Marcus, I don’t care how tidy your room is.”
The heat in his eyes made my breath catch.
“Me neither,” I added.
“I haven’t…” He hesitated, his fingers tracing the collar of my shirt. “I haven’t been with anyone since before I was deployed.”
I covered his hand with mine, pressing it to my chest where my heart thundered beneath his palm. “We can go as slow as you want,” I assured him. “Or we can just sleep. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Tyler’s response was to tug me toward the bed, sitting down and drawing me between his knees. His touch was firm, but his eyes searched mine with a flicker of hesitation—vulnerability lingering just beneath the surface, as though he needed reassurance that I was really there, that this was real. “I don’t want to sleep,” he murmured, staring up at me with a mixture of desire and trust that made my chest ache.
I leaned down to kiss him again, savoring every second. Tyler’s fingers found the buttons of my shirt, working them open with surprising steadiness, given how his breath trembled against my lips. When he pushed the fabric from my shoulders, his hands paused at the sight of my chest.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, tracing a finger along the curve of my collarbone.
No one had ever called me beautiful before. Handsome, sure. Cute, occasionally. But never beautiful. Coming from Tyler, it felt like the highest compliment.
I helped him take off his sweater, revealing the map of burn scars across his torso, winding down to his waist and curving around his back. I’d seen them in a medical sense, but never touched them this way, so I let my fingers drift across them, feeling the ridges and valleys that marked his survival, and I thanked whoever was watching out for him that day he’d made it home.
Tyler tensed for a moment. “They’re not pretty,” he murmured.
