The way he’d said, “I’m not your ex. I’m here. If you need me.”
It dug in somewhere I thought I’d plastered over years ago. And what took my breath away the most wasn’t the towel or the tattoos or the way he looked at me, it was how right it had felt to fit against him. How my whole body had gone still, like it had finally found somewhere it could rest. Like I belonged to him for one breath too long.
My heart was thundering so loud it drowned out logic. I was thirty-one, not fifteen. I was supposed to be a professional. The steady one.
Instead, I was pacing like a lovesick idiot outside Tyler Reed’s hotel room, caught between sense and want.
But maybe that was the problem; sense had been steering my life for years. Nothing but sensible choices, sensible men, sensible heartbreaks. All it had earnt me was lonely hotel rooms and broken promises.
And here I was, wanting to be reckless for once.
I turned back toward his door, took one long inhale, my heart thudding so hard it shook through my ribs.
Fuck it.
Chapter 29
Tyler
Okay,I take it back. Screw a medal. I deserved a fucking parade for the restraint I’d shown. Holding her against my bare chest, breathing in the scent of her hair, and letting her walk away instead of pinning her to the wall and kissing her until she forgot every reason she had to run. Every cell in my body had begged—no, fucking screamed—for me not to.
Last night had been torture. Watching her fall apart in my arms like that, seeing her break open in ways she’d never let anyone see. Especially me.
If only she realized how hard it was to watch her hurt like that, to not lean in and kiss every tear that stained her cheeks. The strong, magnetic Orla Sheehan I knew, had been reduced to a pile of tears and regret over an idiot who didn’t realize the half of what he’d given up.
And that kiss, fuck. She’d kissed me like she was ready to hand herself over, piece by shaking piece. How I found the sense to stop things before they went further was a miracle I couldn’t explain.
She’d been in my head all day since I left her sleeping peacefully inmybed this morning. She was ingrained in everyserve, every point, every breath. Looking up at the stands and not seeing her there hurt in a way I wasn’t ready for. Lately, she was always there, grounding me in ways she didn’t even realize. But I couldn’t fall apart out there. Not after everything she told me. Not after the way she cried into my shoulder last night. I had to win for her. For the version of her that still didn’t believe she was worthy of being wanted.
Because if I’d lost today, if she thought she’d knocked me off course in any way? I think that would have broken her more than anything.
I leaned my back against the door, dropped my head with a dull thud, and exhaled hard letting my eyes close slowly. My chest was tight. My fists still clenched. She’d cracked me wide open, and l didn’t want to close back up; I don’t think I ever could anymore.
Then came the last thing I’d expected. A loud, sharp knock at my door. My eyes shot open, my heart giving a jagged, heavy thud against my ribs.
No. Fucking. Way.
Another knock came, firmer this time, vibrating through the wood and into my palm. I stood frozen for a heartbeat, my mind racing through a dozen different scenarios, before I finally reached out and yanked the door open.
And sure enough, there she was.
Orla.
She was barefoot in the hallway, her chest heaving in shallow, uneven gasps as if the air in the corridor had suddenly turned to lead. She was still wearing those goddamn sleep shorts and that tight-fitted long-sleeve top—the one that had been haunting me since the moment I saw it. The thin white cotton was a cruel, beautiful betrayal; it left nothing to the imagination, the unmistakable outline of her hardened nipples pressingagainst the fabric, her body already surrendering to a want she hadn't yet let herself admit.
Her name burned the back of my throat, but she didn’t give me the chance to say it.
She grabbed me by the back of my neck, dragged me down, and kissed me like her life depended on it. Her lips were as soft and as sweet as I remembered from last night. Her fingers slid into my hair, and I felt them tremble, knowing she’d finally given up every ounce of resolve she had against us.
A guttural sound tore out of my throat as I kicked the door shut, the heavy thud echoing in the small space as I pinned her back against the wood. I cradled her jaw, my thumbs tracing the delicate, soft hollows beneath her cheekbones while I deepened the kiss, forcing myself to slow down. I wanted to taste every second of her decision.
Her breath broke against mine, hitching in a way that told me tears were threatening to spill. “Tyler, I don’t deserve the way you’ve been,” she choked out, her voice fractured. “Not after?—”
“Shhh,” I growled into her mouth, cutting her off with the sheer heat of my gaze. “You don’t get to say that. You have no idea what I’d do to prove how much you deserve it. Every minute of every fucking day, Orla…”
She whimpered when I devoured her mouth again.
I forced myself to pull back just enough to see her face, my heart hammering a frantic, heavy rhythm against my ribs. I needed her to see the gravity of what she was doing. “But I need you to be sure this time, O,” I rasped, my voice thick with a hunger I could no longer disguise. “Because I’m done holding back. I’m done pretending I don’t want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole damn life.”
