Page 12 of His to Love
“Tyson?” I asked, as the thumping grew louder. I pressed a hand to my forehead to silence the pounding inside my head, but then I realized it wasn’t coming from my head, but the door.
Double crap.
“Mmm?”
I curled my fingers around his shoulder and shook him. He was so hot and firm and muscular. For a moment I wanted to dig in, roll him over, and climb right on top of him.
How in the heck did we end up together? In my bed? I didn’t have time to ask before another knock thumped on my door.
“Tyson,” I hissed and shook him harder. “Someone’s here.”
“Wantmetogetit?” His voice was slurred, muffled by the fact that his face was mushed into the pillow next to me.
“No, but you need to hide.”
Only one person could show up at my hotel room. Only one person knew I was in town.
And I was in bed with someone he hated.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
I extricated myself from the tangled mess of covers and limbs that pressed down over the lower half of my body. Tyson’s leg hair tickled my calves as I yanked them out from under him.
Dang that felt nice.
Not the time.
With another huff and a groan, I climbed to my feet, just as another thump hit my door. This time, it was quickly followed by a familiar bellow. “Gabriella!”
“I’m coming!” I shouted and turned back to Tyson. He had rolled over, the sheets pooling just below his waist, and his hands were tucked under the back of his head.
I took a moment to enjoy the view, the thickness and strength of his muscled chest. The dark hair that narrowed as it dipped beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. He was absolutely perfect.
“Hide!” I snapped and rushed into the bathroom where I ripped off my clothes from the night before and threw on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. At least I woke up dressed. I didn’t remember much of the night after three Moscow Mules, dinner, and sidesplitting laughter.
“Not going to hide from him, Blue.”
“You have to. He’ll kill you if he sees you here with me.” I closed my eyes and tried to control my rapidly beating heart. “Please, Tyson. I haven’t seen him in ten years.”
Whether he picked up on the pleading or the panic, I didn’t know, but he eventually nodded. I turned away before I could see him clothed only in boxer briefs. It might have burned my retinas.
And it’d suck to go blind, although then I wouldn’t have to face my father’s constant critical and disappointed looks.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to remember the previous night, but only came up with memories of laughing and telling stories about when we were in high school. Somewhere between the dining room and waking up in my bed, the only thing I vividly remembered was deciding that even though I knew I should stay away from Tyson…I wasn’t going to.
It wasn’t going to lead to anything serious, anyway. It couldn’t. Not now.
But I could have fun while I was able to. I could use him as a sexy, fun distraction when I needed to forget about watching my mom shrivel away. And in doing so, perhaps I could kick Tyson out of my heart once and for all.
Quickly, I threw on the robe hanging on the back of my bedroom door and shut it behind me. After fixing the tie at my waist, I reached for the door as the obnoxious pounding started all over again. Wiping my hair out of my eyes and cringing, I opened the door to see the man who had acted like I was a nuisance ever since the day I was born.
“Hello, Father,” I said.
His eyes dipped to my robe and then he lifted his eyes to mine. “You’re not dressed.”
I took a step back, waving him in. His scorn wasn’t surprising. It just hurt. It had been a decade since he’d laid eyes on me. He’d chosen never to travel to Colorado with my mother when she made her bi-annual vacation, and the first words out of his mouth dripped with disdain.
“Good morning to you, too,” I said with a smile. I caught his eye roll as he walked past me and into the small living room. “I must still be on Denver time.”
