“Thinking pretty hard.” He presses a chaste kiss to the top of my mound and puts my foot back on the ground. “When you’re ready. When there’s no hesitation, we’ll come back to this. I shouldn’t have pushed you. Didn’t intend to.” He shuts off the water and holds out a towel for me. “Come on. Let’s get you tucked into bed. I’ll rub your shoulders. Although I should probably spank your ass.”
My pussy twitches in agreement and frustration that all of this is theory, no application. Some part of me is shocked I’m considering anything with Tyler. That part of my life ended when I blew the whistle on the Brambillas. At least I thought it was over. Now, I’m not so sure. He’s offered so many times since he got here. I’ve craved the release he could give me more times in the past nine days than in the past three years.
Maybe it’s just Tyler. I’ve always had to fight my attraction to him to avoid getting in too deep. And avoiding a romantic entanglement is more critical now since he’s only in Colorado temporarily. I’m too tired to think about this rationally.
I let him guide me to bed. He doesn’t bother with pajamas, tucking me between the sheets naked.
“Roll over.”
I shift facedown, turning my head to the side. When he straddles me and presses his thumbs into my shoulders, I groan as my tense muscles fight him and then release.
“The guys found a club in Colorado Springs. Pandora. Have you been there?”
I haven’t, but I won’t admit I did look it up when I first got to Alabaster. The fact that it’s almost four hours away made it easier to refrain. “You told me I had to leave that part of my life behind. So I did.”
“Do you miss it?”
Do I? I didn’t think so. Now? “I’m not sure.”
“When was your last scene with someone?”
“I can’t remember.” Except that I can perfectly. It was with Tyler. He’d used his hand, other tools, working his way up in intensity to crop my ass. He’d teased my inner thighs. Pinched my nipples through my shirt. He’d worked me over so well, and all I wanted to do was go back to a private room and fuck the daylights out of him. If he’d asked, I would have said yes. But an altercation broke out. I heard the noise, but I was so far gone. I couldn’t figure out what was happening, except that I was in his arms, drinking some water. Moments later, he walked me to my car. At the time, I thought he was done with me. Before we could meet again or talk about it, he was taking my statement about the Brambillas’ tax fraud and becoming my handler. And my husband. And now, I don’t know what he is to me.
He shifts off me and tugs the covers over my back.
He must suspect I’m lying about not remembering, but he probably assumes I was with someone else. I should be. I should find a nice, normal relationship with a regular guy. Except I haven’t even tried. I didn’t even miss dating at all until recently. Never considered breaking his “no BDSM or fetish clubs” rule. I didn’t break any of his rules. Until I did. I became the treasurer for ABBA. I don’t know what that means. Did I do it to get his attention?
“If they go to the club, do you want to come?” He pulls a comb through my still damp hair, working it into a single braid.
Yes. No. Reasons and wants scramble, battling over the choice, leaving my brain muddled. I can’t think about this. “It’s late.”
“I’m going to grab a shower.” He releases my hair and flicks off the bedside lamp on his way.
A pang of loss pinballs through me. It would be so much easier if I could turn off my memories and my need for him the same way.
TEN
Tyler
How can I walk away?She’s naked and in bed. For the first time, the woman of my dreams, the woman who has haunted me, the woman I convinced to fake marry me so I wouldn’t lose her, is right where I’ve always wished she would be. And I’m taking a shower—by myself—to jack off. If I don’t relieve the pressure, I’ll go crazy. Her pussy was open before me, slick with her cream. All I had to do was lean forward and lick that sacred space.
She would have let me.
But the doubt that ran across her expression killed any illusion of consent.
We aren’t intimate. Never have been beyond scenes at the club. But fuck, I want her.
I squeeze my cock with a soapy hand and stroke, imagining Amy riding me so perfectly. Or I could slide in from behind, her sweet pussy pulling me deeper as I paint my handprints across her heart-shaped ass. Her yelps and moans begging my balls to fill her until my cum spills down her creamy thighs. With one command to suck me clean, she flashes a smile, gracefully descends to her knees, and opens her willing mouth. My fantasy of her lips wrapped around my cock while her tongue dances up and down my shaft sends me racing to release. A wave of energy at the base of my spine makes me clench my ass before my legs go weak. A second later, I’m spilling all over her tiles. I slam a hand to the shower wall to keep from collapsing in my puddle of “if only.”
At least now I might be able to sleep without coming on myself in the middle of the night like a schoolboy. She reduces me to wants, needs, and fantasies, and I love it. This is no different from the effect she had on me back in the day at the club. But there, we were always in sync, her gifting me her power, granting me the control that would build me up. I miss it. Have since the last time we were together. I’d thought she was ready to move forward. I’d been about to ask, to renegotiate, when some asshole had to lose his shit in the dungeon, and total chaos broke out just as Amy was coming out of subspace. The only sane thing to do was get her out of there—so I did.
That moment was the reason I convinced her marriage was the best option to hide her when everything went down. As her husband, I could buy her the Sunflower without the deal being shady or beyond explanation at work. And now, I’m here, sleeping in her bed, lying next to my wife every night, and caring for her every day. Refraining from making love to her is killing me. Years of regret over lost time isn’t making this situation any easier.
With a few quick swipes of a towel, I’m dry enough. I hang it on the hook before I go back into the bedroom. I don’t bother with sweats. I’d love to have her warm brown eyes gazing at me, seeing me naked for the first time. But she’s deep in sleep, her face completely relaxed.
Stone’s right. We should go to the club. Not because I need to be around new faces. Despite his assumptions, I wasn’t bored with the old ones in St. Louis. Plenty of new members were joining all the time. The idea of doing anything with someone else felt like cheating. Total insanity—Amy and I are married on paper only. Never consummated. Never lived together. Not until now.
But my heart said “I do,” even if she didn’t know it.
