And then I did something I hadn’t done in years…or maybe ever. Something that wasn’t about charm or getting her into bed.
I leaned in and kissed her cheek. Soft and quick. Just enough to breathe her in, to know the warmth of her skin, the faint trace of her shampoo. A mistake, maybe, because it wasn’t enough.
“Goodnight, Orla,” I said, stepping back before I did something stupid.
She blinked and swallowed. “Night, Tyler.”
I watched her walk away, her dark hair spilling loose down her back until the dusk swallowed her silhouette. My pulse still hammered with the ghost of her against me.
The reality of the whole night dawned on me.This one.She’s the one I want. Not just for a night but for real, and I’d do everything in my power to change her mind about me.
Chapter 12
Orla
My legsbarely carried me to the tube station after Tyler Reed kissed my cheek.
Fuck.
It was nothing.
But it was everything.
We’d just sat and talked for hours, and somehow, I’d started believing I’d been wrong about him all along. Sure, he was still flirty, cocky, full of that big-grin charm he wore like armour. But he hadn’t tried anything—no wandering hands, no leaning in too close, no sleazy lines or half-baked attempt to walk me home just to angle for a shag.
He kissed my cheek, said goodnight and left me standing there like I’d forgotten how to breathe.
For a full minute I just stood on the pavement, too dazed to move. The streetlights were haloed in the humid air, my skin still tingling where his mouth had been. It was the gentlest kiss I’d ever been given and somehow it hit harder than all the others combined.
His scent still clung to me, maddening and heavy. It was so distinctly him it lingered in my head long after he was gone. It felt like he’d branded me with it.
I picked up my pace as the street dimmed, trainers smacking against the pavement, but I couldn’t outrun the loop playing in my mind. Every word. Every look. The way he’d let his guard slip and spoken like a real person, not the headline version of himself. Childhood stuff. Family stuff. Real shit.
Kate had been right about it all. There was more to him than anyone gave him credit for.
Jesus, what was I doing?
Everyone had warned me. Gwen had flat-out called him a walking red flag. There was no getting away from the fact that he was hot, chaotic and completely dangerous. I’d built up my guard sky-high, brick on top of brick. And somehow, he was dismantling it one piece at a time. A flash of sincerity here. A laugh that didn’t feel rehearsed there. A cheek kiss that knocked the sense out of me more than any filthy line ever could.
I needed to be careful. It was just a drink. Just a chat.
Like two colleagues. Yes. That’s it.
He was my colleague.
Casual.
Acolleague I wanted to fuck into next week.
God, Orla. You fucking idiot.
The train roared into the station, a hot gust of air rushing up from the tunnel. I swiped in, stumbled into a carriage, and collapsed onto the scratchy fabric seat. The place smelled like metal and damp concrete. Strangers swayed around me, blank-faced, headphones in, the city moving on as though nothing monumental had just happened.
Meanwhile, I sat there with crimson cheeks, hair half-fallen, and eyes that absolutely betrayed me in the dark reflection of the window.
When the carriage jolted forward, my hand brushed the side of my face. That tiny patch of skin still burned. Ridiculous. It was just a kiss. A friendly, polite, meaningless kiss.
So why did it feel like he’d reached straight through my ribs and twisted something I didn’t know was still alive?
