IT’S BEEN SEVERAL DAYS since the attack and Tyler’s bruising is starting to fade. The random stitch in his side—from movement—has subsided, and he seems to be feeling much better. Though the guilt I feel from his involvement, still is very much present.
We decide to spend the morning in bed, snuggling and learning more about each other. He tells me stories about his family—mostly about his sister—and how close they were. It’s easy to see the love he still carries for her by the way his face lights up with stories of their mischief. But the unfairness of her death, understandably, still haunts him in so many ways.
I know he fears that I’ll meet the same fate, but he’s shown me that I’ve had the strength all along to detour from that path. I control my life. It’s my choice who shares it with me. And I choose to rid myself of the poison that threatens to take away my volition. I will no longer be the victim. My liberation started with my escape, and now I need to ensure that my freedom won’t be sacrificed again. I can’t let Nick steal that from me. It’s not his to take.
But his threats still hold true.
He will come after us.
He’s turned our relationship into a game. He not only called on the aid of the police force to track me down, but also on the entire population. He’s banking on my fear to protect his falsities. He accused Tyler of abduction on a grand scale. His actions no longer fall under the category of “abusive husband”. They fall under psychotic. He’s reached a new level of insanity—with a different form of control.
Different rules.
Added players.
He’s forcing me to play along, but I refuse to grant him that power.
The man I fell in love with is lost inside his madness. He’s been swallowed by the voices in his head that tell him it’s okay to dominate—to claim ownership of something that wasn’t for sale. There were moments when he’d climb his way over the edge of the cliff toward a respectable man, but he’s lost his footing and is sliding down the face of the unconscionable.
“Allie?” Tyler’s concern is drawn with a furrowing brow.
“Sorry,” I wince. “Did you say something?”
“Where were you a minute ago?”
“I was just thinking about the situation we’re in, and how I’m going to fix it.”
“We’re. We’re going to fix it. You’re not alone in this, Allie.”
I brace my upper body on my forearm so I can look him in the eyes. He mimics my position, and I have to look up to have a clear view.
“It’s my mess, and I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”
“It’s too late for that. I’m all in. I want to be wherever you need me to be. Your safety means more to me than anything Nick can throw at me. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself…and you, if you’ll let me,” he says with a wink, causing the ever-present butterflies to do aerial acrobatics in my stomach.
“I don’t want you to get hurt anymore. I…” I stop my words before they add confusion to our situation. I almost let the “L” word slip off my tongue. I don’t know where the thought came from, but I’m glad I curbed a confession before I understand if it truly holds meaning.
I thought I knew what love was, but my definition is obviously skewed. I need to redefine what it means to me, with a description that encompasses the true potential of the word. It needs to illustrate no selfishness or betrayal, but benevolence and honesty.
“You…?” he urges me to continue.
Could he know what I was about to say?
I work my bottom lip between my teeth, contemplating my next words.
“I…I can’t let my life drag you down any further.
“When are you going to get it? I want to be in your life with both feet in. Every aspect. The good and the bad. I want to be there for you. I’m willing to accept everything if it means I can spend even one more day with you.
“Allie, from the first time I met you at the bar, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re obviously beautiful, but there was something more than your beauty that wouldn’t let me go. I could see your empathy, your intelligence, your strength…You’ve held me captive ever since.”
“Tyler…”
His whispered name falls from my lips before they meet his with urgency. His words have triggered a tsunami of emotions—all of them filling my heart to bursting. I yearn to express them.
A torrent of affection floods over him when my hand grips his stubbled cheek to pull him against me.
I melt into him.
I taste his full lips.
My hands travel down the rise and fall of his muscled arms and across his broad chest.
He’s strong. Disciplined. Magnificent.
Our mouths move in tandem—equal give and take. Nipping and tugging. The friction of his mouth, when it glides over mine, causes euphoric sensations to travel over me. Each touch—each caress sends shivers down my spine.
He sits up to get more comfortable, then guides me to follow. I lift my leg to straddle his lap and lock it around his back. My arms cross behind his neck to keep him pulled close.
I move against him. Needing to feel him beneath me.
He moans into my lips, then weaves his fingers through my hair to grasp the back of my head, and gently tips it to the side. He trails kisses down to the tiny dip at the base of my neck, and across my shoulder. Tingles spark beneath my skin, everywhere his mouth makes contact. They become too much. They consume my thoughts with desire and fuel my need for more.
I shift my hips.
A raspy moan rumbles in his chest.
His hands clasp around the small of my waist and press me into him, encouraging an appreciative sigh to escape.
My hands reach for the bottom edge of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. I have only a second to admire the perfection before he claims my mouth again.
His fingers play with the thin strap of my tank—as if he’s uncertain of how far to go. I make his decision easy by pulling it down for him. I back away, just a little, to follow with the other. I let the fabric fall down over me, exposing my bra-covered chest. His eyes darken as he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
I can feel the heat of his stare burning into my skin as it traces over me. It’s like he’s scanning each and every curve of my body to commit it to memory. When he’s done, his baby blue eyes meet mine and swirl with emotion.
“You are absolutely breathtaking.”
He leans in, finding his way back to my waiting lips. The soft caress feels magical. It’s pure. Free of my past. Free of the hurt. The anger. The violence. It’s only the two of us expressing what we’re currently feeling.
The simultaneous beats of our hearts thump to their own rhythm, playing a melody that’s unique to us. Only we know the steps. It’s beautiful. Stunning. Exquisite. My heart would be safe in his hands. He would treat it with the tenderness and care that my own husband was incapable of providing. No one has ever made me feel so cherished.
Tyler’s thumb strokes along my cheek while his fingers tangle in my hair. The gentle touch stimulates my senses, and a tiny mewl squeaks from my throat as I beg him for more.
He guides me onto his lap. My arms cage his neck, while my fingers skim the short hairs covering his head. They tickle the tips with a few days growth—just long enough to surpass the prickly stage and become soft wisps to play with.
He applies more pressure as his tongue delves into the depth of my mouth. Stroking. Kneading. Twirling his sweet taste around me as it dances across mine.
His previous slow, calculated movements have quickened and become driven by need, escalating their effectiveness tenfold. He nibbles on my bottom lip like it will satiate the hunger of a starving man. I feel enticing. Delectable.
When he leaves my mouth to trail kisses down my neck, my swollen lips feel the coolness of their departure. I raise my chin to expose the sensitive skin. He maps the surface in great detail—no spot unventured.
I grasp his head and move him back to my mouth, where we swallow our expressed desire. We repeatedly weave back and forth with desperation. I roll my hips, relishing in the feeling of him beneath me.
Any restraint I may have possessed has disintegrated. His previous words float around my heart and push away the last of the fog hiding my true feelings. They provide me with absolute clarity.
I love this man.
Every. Single. Part of him.
I smash my mouth into his and kiss all my feelings for him into each graze of my lips. I want him. I need him. He’s every goodness wrapped in a beautiful package that I need to unwrap.
I roll my hips one last time before my hands grasp at his belt, desperately needing to be claimed by him. Every one of his touches ignites me—gives me life. He’s the blood pumping through my veins. He’s the air I breathe. So, when his large hand clasps over mine, to halt my advance and separates us, I gasp from deprivation.
A low groan rumbles in Tyler’s chest before he grapples my waist and lifts me off of him. I’m momentarily stunned by his sudden rejection. My cheeks warm with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, I need a sec,” he says as he bends over, grasping his knees. He’s panting heavily, refusing to look at me.
Why won’t he look at me?
Self-consciousness creeps in.
Did I do something wrong?
He starts to pace the length of the room, looking focused on a faraway place.
“I’m sorry, I thought…” I mumble nervously while he shakes his head.
“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I just…I just can’t do this.”
“Did I do something wrong?” my voice wavers with inadequacy. My emotions bubble to the surface.
“What? No! You did everything right. And that’s the problem,” he says cryptically.
My puzzlement must be apparent because he tries to clarify, “Allie, you are amazing. You feel amazing. And when you press against me like you do…” He groans appreciatively. His boyish smile makes an appearance as he shakes his head. “…you’re testing my restraint.”
“Then fail. Let it go. I’ve never been more sure about anything than I am right now.”
“I can’t take advantage of you…”
“You’re not taking advantage,” I cut him off. “I want this. I want you.”
This time he looks at me. A pained expression is barely concealed behind his hooded eyes. Laboured breaths still lift his chest. He’s fighting his desire. He doesn’t want to stop. He shakes his head, side to side.
“You’re not thinking clearly. You’ve been hurt. Physically and emotionally. If we do this, I need it to matter. I need your heart completely in it. Not blinded by your pain…
“…And you’re still married. Whether he’s an asshole or not, I don’t want to be the ‘other’ man.”
“It would matter. You matter. You will never be the ‘other’ man. When I left, I left my vows behind. He ended it when he hit me for the first time,” I spit the words with disgust. The hurt from the rejection and past memories clash into an angered mess in my chest. It bears down.
Crushing.
Aching.
How could I have ever loved someone so callous?
“Allie.”
“No, Tyler. I want…to be…with you.” I implore with my eyes for him to understand. “Please.”
He rubs his hand over his face, while he considers my words.
I don’t give him a chance to deny me. I run and jump into his arms, wrapping my body around him. He catches me—like I knew he would—and reciprocates with a kiss, with just as much intensity.
His hands grip my backside and hold me flush against his hips. With each step toward the bed, our mouths battle for dominance, refusing to surrender.
His knees bump the edge and we topple over. I squeal as I fall. His clumsiness makes me giggle, though is cut short when his grinning mouth clamps over mine, converting my laughter into untethered desire.
We break apart. Needing to feel skin against skin.
He grabs the tank top bundled at my waist, and slides it over my head. Then, lifting my bottom, he slides off my shorts. His eyes trace over the lines of my body, meticulously following each curve. He licks his lip and bites down, eyeing me hungrily.
He stands up—with his chest already bare—and watches my reaction as he glides his jeans over his hips and down his muscled legs. He resumes his height, with only black boxer briefs keeping my eyes from seeing all of him. The grid of his stomach is trimmed by a narrow waist. Its toned lines guide my eyes to a deep vee dipping below the edge of the tight material, providing me with just enough of a tease to pique my curiosity. The view he’s giving me is magnificent. He’s a chiselled work of art. Perfectly sculpted…and all mine.
He bends down to hover over me. Leaning on his forearm, his other hand gradually strokes down the side of my breast to the curve of my waist, and over my hip. The light skim over the surface is painstakingly slow, and sends tingles to all the right places.
The tease continues until he reaches my knee and pulls it up beside him. He shifts arms, then grabs my other knee—caging his large body between my legs. His hips lower, pressing the weight of him into me. The heat radiating between us warms my most delicate parts. And when he glides ahead slightly, I lose all sensibility.
We continue to savour the closeness we share, as we strip away the only layers separating us, and meld our bodies into one—expressing our passion in the most intimate of ways. With reverence, we express the words left unsaid, then plan to hold each other until someone else tries to steal it all away.