Unbearable (the TORQUED trilogy Book 2) (11 page)

I have to admit while I wish she hadn’t said anything there’s a part of me that’s grateful for Nova because after her comment Berkley finally gets the hint and leaves.

Red nudges his daughter in the ribs. “Nova, knock it off and be nice to her.”

Nova used to be nice to Berkley, but I made the biggest mistake and confided in a five-year-old one Saturday night when I was drunk. Leaning in, I pull Nova to my side in the booth. She slides across the leather and stares at me.

“What?” The word is seethed out as she glares at her dad, and then darts her gaze at me.

“I told you that in private. You weren’t supposed to say anything.”

Nova eyes me carefully trying to understand what that means and then pushes a green crayon my direction. “My brain is too big to remember that. Now color the grass green.”

I do as she says because I never want to piss a kid off.

ALL THROUGH DINNER, I do my best to flirt with Raven unbeknownst to everyone else around us.

She’s standing under a street lamp talking to Lenny and Red, the foggy night creating a spotlight on her. A steady gust of wind shakes her hair loose and it falls in her face, tousled and tangled in the night. The hairs on my arms rise with a bite of wind chilling my bones.

With the hood of my sweatshirt pulled up, I take a step in the direction of her car, a vast white blanket of fog rolling through the parking lot. And then I stop, because I can’t go over there right now with Red and Lenny.

Turning on my heel, I make my way to my truck and head home. Alone. Once I’m at home, I regret it.

Why didn’t I invite her over?
Stupid
.

Call her.

Picking up my cell phone off the coffee table, I call her just about the time someone knocks on my door.

Imagine my surprise when I open to the door to find her standing outside of it, digging through her purse for my call.

“Miss me?” she asks, holding up her phone.

“I could say the same for you,” I mumble with a smile. “You’re standing at my door.”

“My car drove itself here,” she says.

My hope was just because she’s gone during the week at college wouldn’t mean it’s over for her, and now I know for sure it’s not with her standing before me. She may have been avoiding me, but it’s certainly not
over
.

Thank fuck.

Memories rush to the surface. Her skin, her smile, her scent that used to overwhelm me. Resting my cheek against the door frame, I grin. “Raven Walker… is this a booty call? I’m not
that
easy.”

Rolling her eyes, she shifts her stance seeming frustrated. “How about you put your D in my V and stop talking,” is her soft reply.

I swing the door open. “Ah, the classics. They never get old.”

Stepping inside, she closes the door behind her, locking it and greeting me with a soft smile.

Her voice is gentle, like she’s suddenly nervous being here. “Hey.”

I pass her and sit down on the couch. “Hey.”

Coming forward with hesitant steps, her hands slip over my shoulders, familiar, yet different.

My hands roam where I hope no other man has been this week, knowing I should never give another man the chance. I
should
just tell her I want more and get it over with, but I can’t because I can’t give her what she’s expecting. A relationship.

There’s a moment when our eyes meet and the fragile way hers hold mine, she’s hoping she sees something different tonight. She’s hoping my feelings may have changed since our last conversation.

I blink and drop my gaze to her chest. With a deep breath, I stand, picking her up and carrying her with me to the bedroom.

Taking my time with her, we move to my room where I lay her on the bed, yanking away my clothing and desperately searching for the familiar closeness. Is it wrong to fall into this again? Is it wrong to want any part of her, whatever she will give me?

Yes. And no.

Legs spread, bodies tangle and our clothes are carelessly discarded. My knees spread hers further, a depraved sense of belonging consuming the both of us.

My hands grasp hers above her head, needing, moving and dragging her body against mine.

“Tyler,” she moans the word into my mouth.

My body screams in approval when I enter her. My hips move on their own, pounding into her, giving her the roughness she craves from me. I duck my head and capture her nipple in my mouth, sucking it in deep to flick the hard nub with my tongue.

She loves it. Grasping my shoulders, Raven moans again. “Faster, Ty, please!” She’s panting now, her arms tightening as we rock into one another.

I can’t deny her, though my body has other ideas and I want to slow this down and enjoy the way her body curves to mine.

I know the exact moment when she comes, her pussy milking my dick, her thighs clamping around my waist.

My orgasm is nearly there, heat washing down my thighs. I fight hard not wanting my time to end with her.

“I fucking missed you so much.” I grunt against her bare shoulder. My movements speed on their own volition, needing the release.

She tightens her embrace, wrapping her legs around my waist, and I lose all sense of existing in anything besides her. Grinding into her, her cries echo through my room and then I’m the one crying out, desperate and loud.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she begs, desperate for more.

Moving a little slower, I smile against her cheek. “I won’t,” I moan, pushing deeper yet again, shaking my head lightly.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Do you ever know what you’re saying to her?

Though I know she’s searching for meaning in everything I do and say, I can give her this, my body, even when I can’t give my heart.

I ended up spending the weekend with Tyler, which should really be no surprise to me. Monday morning, I’m rushing around his apartment trying to find my clothes when I see him at the kitchen table working on his carburetor he has torn apart.

He watches me pulling my jeans on. His eyes regard me with a steady intensity, my face his focus.

Once I have my jeans on, I make my way over to him. There’s a cup of coffee next to the carburetor, almost gone. He gives a nod to the counter. “I made some for you.”

“That’s nice of you.”

His eyelids are low and dark, slow smiles and burning blue. “Thought you could use some. We were
up
pretty late.” He gives me a once over and twists in the chair, turning to face me with his hands on my hips as I stand in front of him.

Moving my hands to his broad shoulders, I laugh, feeling bare to the world, and especially him when he looks at me like this, but also incredibly alive.

He forces me to straddle his lap on the chair, which isn’t forcing because I’ll gladly straddle him. Licking his lips, he gazes up at me like he’s about to speak. I blink and swallow, afraid of what he might say. Pushing his thumb over my collarbone and over my chest to my heart, my eyes hold his. “Are you leaving right now?”

He leans in so our noses and foreheads are touching before kissing me softly.

“I’ll be back on Friday.”

“Hmmm,” he hums, dropping his mouth against my shoulder. “Tell me something dirty.”

“I want you to touch me.” We’ve probably had more sex in the last two days than we have in an entire week, but I can’t help it when it comes to Tyler. I want him all the time.

His kisses falter, a smile pressing against heated skin. “Is that what you want me to do to you?”

I nod. “Touch me.”

“Where?” His voice is rough, enough that I shiver as it hits the side of my neck.

“Down there.” I’m not good at dirty talk. I’ve never really mastered it and I’m afraid I sound like a child asking for candy when they know they’re gonna be denied.

He does touch me though, despite the lack of commitment in my voice. His fingers dip inside my jeans to my center when he sticks one finger inside me. “How’d you get yourself so wet?”

My head falls forward against his shoulder. “From thinking about you.”

“Thinking about what?” He’s forcing me to be vocal and tell him all the naughty things I want him to do to me. I can sometimes do it in the bedroom, but here, in the morning with the sunlight filtering in, I’m somewhat bare and nervous.

My voice shakes around the words, “Fucking me.”

Tyler’s head is down, staring at the carburetor on the table when he pushes it aside and lifts me up so I’m sitting on the table.

Leaning back, he reaches for the hem of his dark shirt, yanking it over his shoulders. My stomach jumps knowing where this is going on his
kitchen table
.

Holy hell. YES!

His shirt drops at his feet, steady and sure palms hold my cheeks and he leans in, a kiss so heavy I’m drowning in him and I never want to surface from this. I never want to surface from
him
.

My heart kicks against my chest, my breath growing heavy as heat rushes up my thighs. “You’ve ruined me, Tyler.”

His lopsided grin is there, boyish and adorable but so dirty. He knows what he’s done to me. “I hope so.” Taking my body in his hands, he scoots me to the very edge so my bottom is so close to his face I’m left shaking with anticipation. I watch the muscles in his stomach and arms, flexing with each movement.

Rough and wild, his hands are on me, memorizing the curves before him. His fingers move lower, sliding across my exposed skin to meet in the middle of the button. His touch burns, igniting my nerve endings and making my heart race. My eyes drift closed. But not for long. I can’t be denied his stare for long. Moving my hands up above my head, I grip the edge of the table, craving his touch.

He’s not looking at me; he’s watching my body.

Standing, his body comes in contact with mine. His jeans are still on—as mine are—when he grinds his hips into mine, his arousal straining against his jeans.

Leaning over me, his mouth finds mine. It’s eager but controlled. He gives his heart when he kisses me like this. Everything he says and does shows that.

With one hand against my stomach, he unbuttons my jeans and then draws back, watching me closely but saying nothing. I don’t say anything either because words aren’t necessary. I don’t need to hear how much he wants me. He’s showing me.

And he doesn’t ask if it’s okay, because he knows it is.

He moves both hands from my waist and lower to the backs of my knees hooking his hands around them. Bringing both my legs to rest on his left shoulder, his head moves to the side pressing my calf against his ear.

There’s a slight grin on his face, but it’s more the intensity in his eyes that makes me nervous. It’s like the night at the bar.

His fingers dance over the waistband of my jeans. He gives me a wink and I lift my hips for him. Slowly he pulls them down over my thighs as his knuckles graze my skin. When they’re at my ankles, he tosses them near his shirt on the floor.

I’m not sure what he’s going to do next, but his mouth is lingering on my calf.

“What time do you have to leave?” he asks.

“I’m already late.” I bend my knees, sliding my feet down his bare chest.