Falling for Tyson

by Erica Breyer

  “Signore, signora! Your pasta!” Mario’s voice broke into the moment. He whisked away their empty salad bowl and set two steaming plates in front of them.

  ‘Jesus! Could his timing have been any fucking worse?’ Tyson thought furiously.

  “Oh!” said Cassie, pulling her hand away. “Uh…thanks.” The spell was broken.

  ‘The man is not getting a tip.’

  Mario was grinding pepper over their food and refilling their wine glasses. He moved off when Tyson rumbled at him. Cassie picked up a clean fork and twirled it into the rich pasta on her plate. Tyson’s mind raced as he thought of ways to recapture the moment. It was gone. Dammit.

  “Mmmm…you were right, this is good,” she said after swallowing a mouthful. The pasta had splashed a stray dollop of cream beside her lip, and he reached forward.

  “You have…” he began, then grazed his fingertip along her skin, brushing her mouth. He retracted his hand and licked his finger. The movement was almost as intimate as a first kiss. She froze, cheeks coloring; reached for a napkin and dabbed at her face self-consciously. “It’s fine,” he assured her, “I got it.” It was maddening how she could swing from happy and relaxed to terrified prey in the blink of an eye. But yeah…there was that small thrill again. The hunt was on. He was going to win her over. There was just no way he’d give up. He smiled warmly to set her at ease. The smile he’d been practicing. He was basically a pro now.

  “So, tell me about your grandmother,” he said, moving away from his own history. “Do you still see much of her?”

  “Every week since my grandfather passed. Nonna…I call her Nonna,” she smiled. “If I don’t visit, she calls to complain. ‘Why you don’t visit? You must visit me before I die!’” she said in an exaggerated Italian accent. Tyson barked out a laugh.

  “You’re kidding! She sounds like a character,” he said.

  “Oh, she is. We’re a lot alike, actually. In looks, certainly. I’ve seen photos of her at my age, and we could have been twins.”

  “She must be a knockout,” said Tyson. Cassie pulled a face.

  “’Fraid not,” she said. “Nonna has a horrible weight issue. I’d say she’s morbidly obese. I remember her once telling me she’d been on diet her whole life.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Tyson. He meant it.

  Cassie nodded. “Yeah…I guess it is. I have vivid memories of going to her for family lunches and finding her hiding behind the fridge door and cramming pie into her mouth between courses. Yet, she’d be at the table with a tiny plate with barely anything on it.”

  Tyson nodded. He recognized the signs. It made him a little sad. A lot sad, actually.

  “I don’t want to be like that,” Cassie murmured, looking down at her plate. They’d lingered over the conversation for so long that their meals were almost cold. He didn’t care. It was his turn to reach out and put his hand over hers. She met his eyes.

  “You aren’t like that, Cassie,” he said, his voice low. “You’ll never be like that. I’ll make sure of it.” She looked up at him sharply, opening her mouth as if to say something.

  “Signore, signora, are you not satisfied?” Mario’s voice broke in. The cream on Cassie’s plate was beginning to congeal.

  ‘What the actual fuck!’ thought Tyson. The man seemed hellbent on sabotaging this conversation. Mario smiled innocently down at him. “No, it’s fine,” he said tersely, “but you can take our plates. And bring us the dessert menu.” Mario nodded smartly and cleared the table. Cassie was staring at him. She’d extracted her hand and had it wrapped around the stem of her wine glass.

  “You’re going to try the tiramisu,” he said firmly. “And I’m ordering the panna cotta. You can have a taste of mine, too, if you like.” He took a look around the restaurant and realized that the original tables had emptied, and new diners were filtering in. He glanced at his watch. Lunch was turning into dinner. Had they been there that long? It felt like minutes.

  “I don’t think I should do dessert, I—” Cassie started to object, but he stopped her.

  “Nuh-uh-uh! My treat, my rules,” he said firmly. Sometimes it was good to play the alpha male. Hell, who was he kidding? It was his default setting.

  By the time their sweets arrived, they’d had another glass of wine, and Cassie was relaxed again. Their desserts were fantastic. Feeling emboldened, he picked up a long spoon, scooped up some panna cotta, and aimed it at her mouth.

  “Here, try this,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. She opened her lips obediently and swirled her tongue around the spoon, licking off its cargo and swallowing with a low moan deep in her throat. It was probably the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

  “Oh, my gosh, that’s good,” she said, moaning again and flicking her tongue over her lips. He was going to order the rest of the damn menu.

  “More?” he asked, preparing to scoop up another spoonful.

  “No, try some of mine,” she said, stretching over with her own spoon loaded with tiramisu. The sweet, sticky stuff brushed his lips, and he reached up and grasped her wrist with one hand before opening his mouth. Their eyes met across the table as he tasted the treat, then swallowed. Seconds ticked by.

  “I think…we should get out of here,” he said, his voice low. His fingers were still wrapped around her wrist, and for a crazy moment, he had an urge to pull her over the table. Get his hands into the soft folds of that dress and feel—

  “Yes,” she said huskily.

  “Check, please!” Where the hell was Mario now?

  By the time they’d paid and gathered their things, Tyson was ready to sprint out, dragging her behind him. Find someplace private, and—

  ‘Woah, buddy! Hold your horses!’ he steadied himself. Cassie seemed as eager to leave as he was, but this wasn’t the time to rush things. They headed out the door towards where his car was parked.

  “Ciao, bellissima,” the manager called out behind them.

  “Ti amo! I love you!” Mario added. The pair were still standing in the doorway, gawping.

  ‘You have got to be kidding me!’ thought Tyson.

  “Well, that was umm…interesting,” said Cassie as they got into his car. “But nice! Thank you!” she quickly added.

  He was never going back. “Sure,” said Tyson, thankful he’d switched from wine to water. Cassie’s cheeks were a little flushed, and her eyes were bright. He wanted to drag the evening out longer, but as she skipped along beside him, he noticed her sway against him occasionally. Shit.

  He needed to get her home before things fell apart.

  Chapter 9

  Cassie was almost dizzy with excitement on the drive back to her place. Or it could have been the wine… No, definitely excitement. She kept casting furtive glances at the man beside her as he drove. It was almost incomprehensible to her that she was here with him. That he seemed to want her. Tubby little Cassie Cataldi. This man.

  It was dark now, almost eight at night. Where had the day gone? She’d been so engrossed that the time had flown. Her eyes moved over the line of his profile in the dimness of the car, lights occasionally flashing across his face. Highlighting his nose, his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw. That mouth.

  ‘Oh, lord…’ She so desperately wanted to kiss that mouth. She was going to. There was no question about it. She was going to kiss that beautiful mouth. Touch that beautiful body. ‘Oh, that body.’ Her own body responded, just thinking about it. Tightened and tingled. She pressed her knees together, licked her lips. Was this even real? She shook her head to clear it. Tyson turned to her and smiled, and she was lost for a second. Surrounded by his scent…soap and sandalwood and something else. Man.

  “We’re here,” he said, easing the car into a bay outside her apartment block. She nodded. “I’ll take you upstairs?” he said. She nodded again. ‘Of course you will, you delicious bundle of manliness!’ she thought. Would it be unladylike to run? When they reached her front door, she was panting. She might as well have run
. She turned to face him, gazing up as he loomed over her. She reached into her purse, fumbling for her keys. If her hands shook any more, she would drop them.

  He was silent for a second, then, “Thank you for today…for tonight. It was incredible,” he said huskily.

  “No…thank you,” she said, “it was—” His lips descended and brushed over hers gently, almost chastely. She sucked in a breath. Saw stars.

  And then he stepped back. Raised a hand and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. Those eyes…those impossibly intense green eyes. She leaned forward to melt against him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt; she pulled at him instinctively. Not wanting the kiss to end. Not wanting the night to end. She almost stumbled as he moved away, her fingers jerking loose.

  “Well…goodnight,” he said, brushing his knuckles against her cheek, then turning to walk down the hall.

  Cassie stared after him, mouth opening and closing like a guppy.

  What the hell just happened?

  ✽✽✽

  Cassie rolled over in bed and groaned. The light streaming through the window was just a little too bright. She stretched out, untangling bedclothes from her limbs. She’d tossed and turned half the night, getting up a handful of times to stumble about looking for water, aspirin…and finally to flip through clips of Tyson on YouTube. Now her eyes were bleary, and she was struggling with images of herself hanging on to his shirt and dragging him towards her.

  “Oh, my God!” she mumbled. The man had to pry her off his chest like a limpet. If he’d given her just the slightest hint of encouragement, he’d be right here with her now. First date or not.

  Had she been wrong?

  Everything had just seemed so perfect. The restaurant with its ditzy staff. The food… Had she made a pig of herself? The conversation… They’d connected. She’d been so sure of it. Maybe the wine had helped. Probably a little too much. Her head was protesting. But she couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. She glanced down at where her pajamas had ridden up her thighs, and she pulled a face. Not the prettiest sight in the world. Not like Roxy’s toned limbs…or Stacy’s. Or Farrah’s. Fucking Farrah.

  She pulled the covers over her head for a minute. Maybe it was a good thing he’d backed off. No chance in hell she’d want him waking up to this sight. She still hadn’t moved when the phone rang minutes later.

  “Go away,” she grumbled into the mouthpiece.

  “What? Wasn’t it amazing, darling? Or am I interrupting…something…?” Nat’s voice was too bright and cheerful for either Cassie’s mood or the time of day. Which turned out to be 8 am. Hardly the crack of dawn.

  “No… Yes… I mean, you’re not interrupting anything. And yes, it was great! Incredible! Amazing…I thought!” Cassie muttered. “Then we got home, I got a kiss my mother would have found acceptable, and he hightailed it out of here.”

  “Oh…” Nat said flatly, apparently just as disappointed as her friend. “Well…maybe he’s just…being a gentleman, darling?”

  “Whyyyy?” Cassie wailed. “I didn’t want him to be a gentleman!” She’d wanted him to flip her onto her back and rip her panties off with his teeth, dammit. She’d seen what he could do on a mat…why hadn’t he tried some of those moves on her? Naked.

  Oh, Lord, just having that image in her head…

  “Are you sulking, sweetie?” Nat’s voice broke into her mental orgy.

  Cassie huffed. “Of course I am,” she said. “I haven’t been laid in months…and Colin’s efforts were underwhelming at the best of times. I really thought…” she trailed off and sighed.

  “Don’t let it get you down, darling. I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Nat said. “I’m off to brunch with Andy. You can join us if you want.”

  “No, that’s okay,” said Cassie, not wanting to be a third wheel. Not wanting to get out of bed yet either, if she was honest with herself. They ended the call, and Cassie stretched out beneath the covers again. Her mouth was a little dry, and her head was still foggy. A shower would clear it. She swung her leg out of bed, preparing to get up.

  The phone rang again. Tyson. Her breath caught.

  “Hey, beautiful,” the voice on the other end of the line made her toes curl.

  “Hey,” she said, trying to act casual.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said, still casual. Dammit, she’d have slept better if he’d been here. Or maybe she wouldn’t have slept at all. She dashed the pictures from her mind. Her filthy, filthy mind.

  “I dreamt about you last night,” he said. Cassie gulped. Well, that came out of left-field.

  “Oh?” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Probably me eating dessert, huh?” She pictured herself at a pig trough.

  “Oh, you better believe it!” he chuckled. “Anyway, what are you doing later?” The sentence seemed to come out in a rush. Cassie glanced around her room. Curtains needed a wash. Laundry was piling up. She probably should scrub out the shower cubicle.

  “Nothing at all,” she answered so quickly the words ran into each other.

  “Good,” he said. “Want to come out with me?” Her heart swooped in dizzying circles.

  “Sure,” she answered in a voice that sounded too calm to be her own. “Anywhere in particular?”

  There was a pause, and then he said, “Uh…a family barbecue? At my folks’ place?”

  Cassie’s mouth dropped open. He was asking her to meet his family? After one freaking date? Was she going to find herself on some prank TV show?

  “Okayyyy,” she said slowly. “What’s the occasion? Is there a dress code?”

  “No, just a regular get-together,” he answered. “Wear whatever makes you comfortable. I’m sure you’ll be great.”

  Cassie shook her head. Nothing on the planet was going to make her feel comfortable. Except maybe a bag over her head.

  “I’ll pick you up at two?” he was saying.

  “Sure, sounds great. I’ll see you then,” she answered casually. He ended the call.

  “Oh. My. God,” Cassie said into the silence of her room.

  ✽✽✽

  Tyson bumped fists with Maxwell as he arrived at gym that morning. Two sessions with the guys and then home to shower and change before lunch. Before he collected Cassie. The thought made him smile. Even though there was a part of him still groaning in frustration over the previous night.

  Her lips had been so sweet. If he’d lingered a second longer—

  Nope. No can do. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d get a girl drunk and then pounce on her.

  Okay, maybe he’d done it a couple of times. But that hadn’t been the same. Tearing out of the ring, rushing on adrenaline and testosterone. Who could say no when a half-naked fight groupie plastered herself to you? High on something half the time. But that was different. Definitely different. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d—

  He shook his head and turned back to Maxwell. This was going to be a good day. He grinned.

  “Looks like somebody finished all his Cheerios today,” his friend said drily. “Whassup with you, big guy?”

  Tyson’s grin broadened. “Just had a good day,” he said.

  “Let me guess…Cassie?” Maxwell pried. Tyson nodded. He felt like a kid. He wanted to talk about her.

  “Had lunch yesterday. Got her home round eight. It was great. She’s great.” Was it weird to be babbling? It was a bustling Saturday morning, and around them, the sounds of the gym were getting louder. Guys smacking bags to warm up before their sparring sessions. Skipping ropes slapping against the floor. Clattering of pear balls.

  “Long lunch,” said Maxwell. “Did you stay over?” This was about as far as their ‘guy talk’ ever extended. Neither man was much for elaborating about their sex lives.

  “Nope,” Tyson replied. He was looking around for his focus mitts. Nearby, a kid was wrapping his hands.

  “Why not?” This was high-pressure from Max – t
hey never discussed this stuff.

  “Too much wine,” Tyson said, sliding a hand into a mitt. “I figured she should get an early night.”

  Maxwell inclined his head. “Guess this one’s serious, huh?” Tyson smiled. The guy totally got him.

  “Yeah. I’m taking her to the Big House this afternoon,” Tyson said, using his pet name for the family home.

  Maxwell’s eyes widened. “You’re taking her to meet your mother?”