He huffs a laugh.
“Section three of the contract,” he says.
“Section three says we can’t have sex,” I argue. “You can touch me, Eric.”
“No,” he says, leaning down so our faces are inches apart. “Because if I touch you once, Tyler,” his eyes slowly move down my body and back up. “I won’t fucking stop.”
Oh.
If I hadn’t been cursing myself enough over the last six months, I sure as hell was now. Iwanthim to touch me and never stop. I want his mouth and hands and body on mine again. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Well, fuck it.
“Touch me,” I say. His eyes go wide before they darken, the black of his pupils nearly swallowing the deep blue of his irises whole.
“Tell me you don’t want that,” he says. I hold our eye contact, not backing down. “Tyler,” he growls. “Tell me you don’t want that.” I say nothing, and he lightly touches my cheek with his fingers. I close my eyes and lean into his touch. “Why,” he groans. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because you weren’t the only one who fell that night,” I say, opening my eyes and meeting his gaze.
“Fuck, Tyler,” he says, dropping his hand and standing from the bed, stepping around me and toward the door. “We couldn’t have had this conversation nine months ago?”
“What was I supposed to say?” I ask. “That I was in love with you? Do you know howunhingedthat would have sounded? Like,‘Hey, I’m glad you’re here. Remember that one time we slept together three months ago? Well, I think I’m in love withyou.’”
“Why do you think I spent three months trying to find you?” he asks.
“To offer me a job.”
“Tyler, I told you I wanted you.Youwere the one who came at me unprovoked talking about how the sex wasn’t good…implyingyoudidn’t wantme.” He emphasizes his point by thrusting his finger from me to himself. “Youwere the one who left that night, even after I begged you to stay. I know what I want. I’ve known since the moment our eyes met.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation when you’re drunk,” I say, shaking my head and staring up at the ceiling. “There’s no chance you remember any of this tomorrow.”
“If you think a few shots of tequila are going to make me forget the way I feel about you, then you severely underestimate me,” he says, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair.
“Prove it then,” I say, stepping closer to him. “Prove you want me. Touch me.”
“Tyler,” he warns, his voice returning to a low growl. His hands curl into fists at his side. “I am not kidding. If I touch you, I will not stop.”
I look at him and my heart pounds in my chest. A steady beat that I’ve been ignoring for far too long—home, home, home.
“Just…tell me you’ll remember,” I say. One last feeble attempt to protect myself. To keep these walls intact. “Tell me you’re not going to wake up tomorrow and use the tequila as an excuse to break my heart. Tell me you won’t hurt me.”
“Tyler,” he says, taking my face in his hands, tipping it up so my eyes meet his. “I would rather claw the heart out of my chest with my bare hands than hurt you.”
“Then touch me,” I say on a whisper. “Claim me. I’m yours, Eric.” His forehead touches mine, our noses brushing as we breathe.
“Mine,” he says.
I nod, our lips brushing with the movement.
“Yours,” I whisper against his mouth.
FORTY-SIX
Ty
? bad decisions – Bad Omens ?
His lips crash into mine and my body ignites. He kicks the door shut behind him and pushes me backward and down onto the bed. I peel his shirt off, and my eyes catch the hint of dark ink from a small tattoo on his chest that I don’t remember seeing before.
