Page 74 of His to Love
I smirked at his back. “I was talking about the wine.”
He shot me a look over his shoulder and huffed. “Nice to see where I fall.”
“I’m kidding.”
Tyson set down the wine and bag of ice cream on the entry table and kicked off his Adidas sandals. My gaze traveled down his body, which was dressed in a simple black T-shirt and dark gray athletic pants, down to his bare feet. He looked damn good in his suit earlier, but there was something undeniably sexy about a man in athletic attire. It clung to all the right places.
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand and picked up the bag. I snagged the bottle of wine from the table and followed him into the suite’s small living area. He sat me on the couch and took the wine from my hands. “What would you like first?”
“Wine.”
“Stay here.”
“I can help,” I said, pushing off the couch to stand.
“You can, but you’ve had a long day. I want to do this for you.”
I relaxed back into the couch and smiled. “Thank you,” I replied and rested my head against the back of the couch.
He was right. I had had a long day, but his had been equally long. The fact that he was still willing and wanted to take care of me, even though he had been working since this morning, made my heart flutter a bit faster inside my chest. This was what being with Tyson would be like. Him taking care of me. Lots of understanding and compassion.
They were things I had received from few people in my life, and never a man.
“Here,” he said quietly, and joined me, standing next to the couch. I opened my eyes and turned to him, taking the offered glass of wine out of his hands.
It was chilled and delicious. A small moan of pleasure escaped my lips as I took my first sip.
He sat next to me, bending one leg so he was facing me, and draped his arm against the back of the couch. His fingertips played with my hair. “How was it?”
“At my mom’s?”
One shoulder shrugged.
The vibe at my parents’ house was strange tonight. Cars and SUVs lined their driveway when I pulled in, and even though I hadn’t seen the numerous men that had to be there, I had definitely heard the raised voices filtering out of my father’s office. Everyone seemed tense, with emotions running high. I assumed it had to do with my father stepping down and making plans to hand over his leadership to Malik. I guessed it had more to do with what Malik had told me about other crime families threatening to take what my father believed to be his. What I witnessed and heard tonight seemed bigger…darker. As I went upstairs to see my mom, two men dressed in black suits had left my father’s office, shouting obscenities as they hustled out the front door. Before they reached the entryway, they both turned around, sent me a glare that instantly chilled my spine, and then left. It took me several moments before I was able to catch my breath and move up the stairs after that. And once I was in my mom’s room, I still didn’t feel safe.
Something was going on. Whatever my father was doing now wasn’t good. I could still feel the lingering tension and darkness in the air in my parents’ house as I sat and thought about it. I shivered and shook my head to erase the feeling.
“What is it?” Tyson asked, his hand sliding from my hair to my shoulder.
“Nothing.” I frowned, shook my head again. “My mom was fine, I guess. Sleeping, waking up only to cough. I doubt she realized I was there.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to find the words to say what I was feeling about it, but nothing came. There was nothing to say about watching someone you love lose her life with every passing breath. Fortunately, Tyson let me have my silence while we sipped our wine.
“How’s your dad handling it?”
I frowned. He hated talking about my dad, and I was surprised he’d brought him up.
“I don’t know, honestly,” I said. “Clarissa said he hasn’t been home much this week. Busy with something. He’d never let me see him hurting over her, anyway.” I forced a smile and turned to him, wanting to change the subject. “How was your day?”
Tyson’s finger slid through my hair until he reached the ends. His look was soft. Pensive. “Pain in my ass, to be honest.”
“I’m sorry.” I lifted my wine glass and tipped the top of my glass toward his, clinking them together. “At least we have alcohol.”
His eyes crinkled at the edges and then our eyes locked on each other. “Maybe what I want isn’t alcohol.”
I choked over the lump in my throat, desire already starting to build. He only looked at me with seductive intent and I understood what he wanted.
Even knowing it, I still flashed him a teasing grin. “Ice cream?”
