Page 61 of Tyson
"Just being thorough," I said, standing abruptly. "I should head out. Got some things to handle before church tomorrow."
"Things at Lena's?" Duke's question stopped me cold.
“Well, I’m living there, so, yeah.”
Duke held my stare for a long moment, then nodded. "Drive safe, brother."
I made it to my bike before allowing myself to breathe properly. The engine roared to life, vibration running through me like a reminder of how Lena had felt pressed against my back just hours ago. The ride to her apartment was muscle memory now, the route carved into my brain like tactical coordinates.
I wondered how long I’d have to wait for her to arrive back.
Theapartmentwasdarkwhen I slipped inside, using the spare key Lena had given me. The living room wasempty, her usual chaos of art supplies and coloring books undisturbed. Kitchen clear. But there, starting at the hallway, a trail of red rose petals scattered across the worn hardwood like tiny strawberries.
Fuck. She was already here.
My pulse kicked up, but not from danger. I followed the trail, each step building anticipation that mixed with the frustrated arousal I'd been carrying since Mia's interruption.
The petals led to her bedroom door, which stood slightly ajar. Soft light flickered through the gap—candlelight, my brain catalogued automatically, even as other parts of me responded to what that meant. She'd done this for me. For us. While I'd been lying to Duke and planning deceptions, she'd been creating something beautiful.
I pushed the door open and stopped breathing.
The room had been transformed into something from a fantasy I didn't know I had. Candles covered every surface—dresser, nightstands, even the floor in safe corners. Their golden light turned her normally chaotic space into something otherworldly. The sheets had been changed to something silky and dark that caught the flickering light. Rose petals scattered across the bed like promises.
And there, posed in the center like every wet dream I'd ever had made flesh, was Lena.
The lingerie was criminal. Worse than criminal—it was a declaration of war on my self-control. Black lace that didn't so much cover as suggest, strategic cutouts that revealed the tattoos I'd traced with my tongue, delicate straps that begged to be snapped. Her purple hair spilled across the dark sheets in waves I wanted to fist my hands in.
"Took you long enough," she said, voice pure sin wrapped in smoke. Her legs shifted, revealing more skin that made my mouth go dry. "I've been very patient."
"Lena." Her name came out strangled, caught between reverence and raw need. My cock went from interested to painful in seconds, straining against jeans that suddenly felt like a prison.
"I thought I'd be the one waiting." I couldn't move from the doorway, afraid if I got closer I'd pounce on her like an animal. "How long have you been—"
"Mia's thing was quick," she interrupted, stretching like a cat. The movement did things to her breasts that should have been illegal. "Mostly just confirming food and games. Which, by the way, are going to be hilarious. But I've been waiting here for half an hour, thinking about all the things you didn't get to do to me earlier."
Half an hour. She'd been lying here in that scrap of lace for half an hour, thinking about my mouth on her, my fingers inside her, the way she'd shattered apart before Mia's terrible timing. My hands clenched at my sides, every muscle locked against the urge to cross the room and show her exactly what I'd wanted to do.
"We should talk," I managed, grasping for control like a drowning man reaching for driftwood. "About the party. Thor wants—"
"I don't care what Thor wants right now." She sat up slowly, the candlelight painting her skin gold and shadow. "I care about what you want. What you promised me before we were interrupted."
I took one step into the room, then forced myself to stop. "The party's going to be complicated. Joint bachelor-bachelorette, everyone together on a boat. Duke's already suspicious, asking about my bike at your place—"
"Tyson." The way she said my name should have been registered as a weapon. "I've spent half an hour in this uncomfortable but very sexy lingerie, thinking about your handson me. I lit approximately a thousand candles, which is a fire hazard I'm ignoring for ambiance. I scattered rose petals like some romance novel heroine I swore I'd never be." She fixed me with those hazel eyes that saw too much. "So unless the building is actually on fire, stop thinking and get over here."
"This is dangerous," I said, but I was already moving closer, drawn by forces stronger than gravity. "We're taking too many risks. What if Duke—"
"Duke won't find out." She caught my hand as I reached the bed, pulling me down to sit beside her. The mattress dipped, bringing her scent—something floral from her bath, mixed with the arousal I could practically taste in the air. "I know we have to be careful. I know this is complicated. But right now? I need you to stop thinking and just . . . wreck me. Like you promised."
Her hand slid up my chest, finding the gap between shirt buttons she'd discovered on the bike. "You said you'd show me what you've been holding back. What you've been thinking about. I'm here, Tyson. I'm ready. Stop finding excuses to deny us both what we want."
She was right.
"You sure?" I asked one more time, needing to hear it. "Once I start, I don't know if I can hold back again."
Her answer was to pull me down for a kiss that incinerated my last rational thought. Her tongue swept into my mouth like she was claiming territory, her hands fisting in my shirt hard enough to pop buttons. I bit her lower lip, not quite gently, and she whimpered into my mouth as she surrendered to the inevitable.
"Wreck me," she whispered against my lips, and I felt something fundamental shift inside me. "Show me what happens when you stop being careful."
