Tyler

by Jo Raven

  I can picture her sliding down between my legs, her dark hair loose and silky, her eyes wide, her lips parting. She’s naked, or maybe dressed in white lace that shows off her golden skin. She gives me knowing smile, one that tells me she knows what I like and she wants to give it to me. Wants to take care of me. She reaches for my dick with her small hand.

  Another groan leaves my lips as my hand speeds up. Yeah, baby. Erin…

  But then I recall the anger on her face, the way she turned away to go, and I falter. Shit. Her image crumples, and no matter how I tug and stroke my erection, trying to get off, I can’t.

  Fuck. I don’t even get to have this anymore—a release through my fantasy of her. Damn this misery. I jump to my feet and throw the chair against the wall. It lands with a satisfying crash, falling to the floor. I pace up and down, running my hands through my hair, wiping them over my face.

  I can’t. Can’t take this. Can’t relax, can’t sleep, no matter how tired I am.

  Giving in, I grab my jacket and stride out of the apartment. I trudge down the stairs and step out into the cold, gray predawn. No sleep for me this night. I walk about aimlessly until I spot an open bar. Raucous laughter spills from inside, and rowdy music. Maybe I can drink until I forget. Maybe I can pick a fight and get knocked unconscious.

  Either option sounds a damn sight better than my bed right now.

  Part II

  Four years earlier

  Erin

  “Comfy?” Tyler asks.

  “Uh-huh.” He has his muscled arm around me, and my head is resting on his padded shoulder. At seventeen, he’s already tall and strong.

  We’re lying on the shore of Lake Monona, in Olin Park. It’s late and the park is closed, but we jumped over the locked gates. It’s the beginning of summer, and the air is cool and crisp. The sky’s darkening. The stars are coming out one by one¸ twinkling like jewels. The crushed grass scent mingles with Tyler’s musk, and his heart beats a steady rhythm under my ear.

  “Don’t you wish we could stop time?” I whisper. I want to hang onto this precious moment. I have a feeling the good times won’t last, and I don’t know why. I’ve never been superstitious before.

  “No,” Tyler says, and turns to brush his lips on my forehead.

  “No?”

  “Nope. Don’t wanna stop time. I want to live my life out with you. Finish school, study, get a job. Move in together, grow and change together.”

  My heart stutters in my chest. We never talked about the future, and his words fill me with warmth. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He tilts his head back. “It’s the first time thinking of the future doesn’t scare me.”

  I raise myself on my elbow to look at his handsome face. “Why would you be afraid of the future?”

  He doesn’t respond immediately, and I stroke my hand down his rough cheek. One side of his mouth tips up in a half-smile. “Aren’t you?”

  Touché.

  “Maybe. It’s just that everything’s perfect right now.”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it’s perfect.” He glances back up at the sky and points. “See all the stars?”

  I nod against his shoulder. “They’re so bright.”

  “You’re the brightest one, for me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Erin

  “Hey, girl. Will you be okay on your own here for a couple days?” Zane asks as I come out of the bathroom, rubbing my long hair dry with a towel.

  “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

  He shakes his head. His tall Mohawk is a bright purple these days, and he’s added a stud to his ear. From the little I know about Zane, this isn’t a good sign. Adding more metal to his body means he’s stressed.

  He sucks on the barbell in his tongue. Another sign of distress. “Have to go check on my sis. That’s all.”

  His sister isn’t well, that’s all I know, and his casual reply sends warning bells inside my head. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I just need to take care of her kids for a while.”

  I give him a once-over. He has dark circles under his eyes. “Anything I can do?”

  “Nah.” He gives me a faint smile. “Just take care of the apartment and Tyler.”

  I freeze in the act of wrapping the towel around my head. “Tyler?”

  Zane huffs. “I’m worried about him, okay? I told Ash where to find him, but the fucker isn’t ready to talk to his brother yet, and Tyler doesn’t look too good. Like, worse than when he first arrived.”

  I snort to cover my unease, and my concern. The thought of Tyler unwell scares the hell out of me. “You worry too much about everyone, Zane, you know that. We’re all adults.”

  He frowns. “Like Ash who almost died trying to be a man, not telling anyone his problems?”

  Crap. I wince as I sink on the sofa. “Ash must hate me.”

  “Then talk to him, Erin. Do I have to force people to talk around here?” Zane sounds frustrated, and I can’t blame him. He’s looking out for everyone. It must be exhausting.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “In a few days. I’m thinking Friday, to take advantage of the weekend.”

  I nod. “I tried talking to Tyler, you know. He won’t tell me anything.”

  Zane sits next to me, studying me intently. “What if you’re asking the wrong question?”

  “What do you mean? I want to know why he skipped town back then. That’s a simple enough question, isn’t it?”

  “Nothing is ever simple.”

  Don’t I know it. If he knew… But nobody does among my friends. I hid myself too well back then. “I want an answer, Zane. I screwed up, and I feel bad, but I need to know why he left.”

  “Not saying you don’t,” he says quietly. He runs his hands over the shaved sides of his head. “But maybe that isn’t a question he’s ready to answer. Ask him something else. Like why he’s back. Start small, is all I’m sayin’.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  He grins. “I have faith in you, girl.”

  I wish I did, too. “What’s got you all worked up over Tyler anyway? I didn’t notice anything off about him.” Then again, I’ve been kinda fixated on his eyes, his mouth, his chest… Bad girl, Erin.

  “What?” Zane blinks as if he’s been elsewhere in his mind. “Oh. He looks tired, like he doesn’t sleep. He looks like hell warmed over.”

  Like you? I want to say but don’t let the words out. “I see.”

  “No, you don’t see,” he snaps. “There’s more to it than just sleepless nights.”

  His outburst jerks me backward. Zane’s always so calm, and what is his thing with Tyler anyway? “What do you mean?”

  “His ink.” He grunts and gets up. “Shit, this is none of my business, but I thought…”

  “You thought what?”

  “That you feel something for him.” He paces to the window and stares out.

  Ice runs through my veins. I’m that transparent, then? After all these years building my walls, Zane can see right through me. I wonder if my I’m that obvious to everyone.

  Funny thing is, I don’t remember any tattoos on Tyler. His body was clean when he left, his skin unblemished, a pale canvas I loved to explore.

  Jesus. Get your wits together, Erin. “Tell me about his ink.”

  “It’s more than just ink,” he says, his voice hushed. His back is to me, rigid. “It’s the scars.”

  “Scars?” The word hurts my mouth like a jagged stone, and my throat aches. “What scars?”

  “There’s a scar on his stomach and that word carved into his chest.” Zane turns and leans back against the wall. “I wonder if he did it to himself. I can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, can I?”

  I stare at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”

  His eyes narrow, and he turns his head away. His shoulders tense. “Well, I guess you’ll have to ask him that.”

  And with that he strides across the living room and out of t
he apartment, leaving me worried, confused and downright frightened.

  For Tyler. And for myself—because it hurts inside when I think about him. Too many emotions jostle for space where I thought there was nothing left but emptiness.

  ***

  After classes, I call Mom from the campus. She’s back home from the hospital, but still weak and in bed. Worry’s eating at my stomach lining, like acid. I make her promise to take it easy, then I talk to Jax who’s happy as ever to hear from me, telling me all about his day and asking when I’ll be back visiting.

  “As soon as I can,” I tell him truthfully, because I need to be with him and see Mom. The only problem is I’ve fallen so far behind on my studying it isn’t even funny. “I’ll try to come by, maybe this weekend.”

  He doesn’t sound too happy with my maybes. I can’t blame him. I miss him, too.

  I hang up, feeling down in the doldrums. The thought I’m not good enough for anyone creeps up, pressing down on me. I’m such a failure. Not seeing Jax enough, leaving so much on my parents’ shoulders, falling behind in my classes… and still unable to draw an answer from Tyler.

  The things Zane told me last night—about Tyler’s scars—mingle with my frustration and turn my stomach. I sit in my car, undecided. But before I can make up my mind, my cell starts ringing. Incoming call from Tessa.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey.” Tessa’s voice is low and strained. “Where are you at?”

  “Campus. What’s wrong?”

  “Jeep broke down, and Audrey can’t come right now. She’s still in classes. Come get me, pretty please?”

  I can practically hear the pout.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home.”

  Sighing in defeat, I promise to pick her up and disconnect. Still too deep in other thoughts, it isn’t until I’m parked outside her building that I realize I haven’t even asked her where she wants to go.

  Tessa bounds to the car and slips inside. “Can you take me to Damage?”

  My palms begin to sweat at the possibility of seeing Tyler again. “Why there?”

  “Ash and Dylan will pick me up to go for coffee.”

  Dylan. Big surprise. And Asher… Another person I have to talk to and apologize.

  By the time I park outside Damage, my heart thumps double time. Tessa thanks me, grins and jumps out of my car, all bouncy with excitement. I’m about to pull off the curb, when Zane steps out, followed by Dylan who’s gesturing and talking, looking annoyed.

  They meet Tessa halfway to the shop as I roll down my window to say hi, and the cause of Dylan’s annoyance becomes clear when he says Asher’s name, followed by cursing.

  Asher said he’d meet them and hasn’t made an appearance.

  “It’s time he got his head out of his fucking ass and talked to his brother,” Zane’s saying.

  “Man, after Tyler left him like that? I thought you were on Asher’s side.”

  “Fucker, relax and take a breath, okay? This is for Ash as much as it is for Tyler. Do you think it’s good for Ash to keep all that anger inside? Tyler is his family, and he ain’t got much of it left, if you haven’t noticed.”

  They’re caught up in their discussion, but Tessa has stilled and is looking toward the shop. I follow her gaze, and my mouth goes dry.

  Tyler’s standing at the door of Damage Control, an arm braced on the frame, a hand buried in his tousled dark hair. He hasn’t noticed me yet, his eyes focused on Zane and Dylan. His blue, long-sleeved shirt stretches tight over his broad chest and shoulders, and the sleeves are rolled up, displaying his corded forearms. I take him in hungrily—from his shaggy hair to the faint stubble on his jaw, to his low-slung, faded jeans and biker boots. He’s so gorgeous my breath catches.

  I’m so focused on the way the coarse fabric of his trousers molds to his strong thighs, I jerk in surprise when he starts walking toward me. He’s looking right at me now, and there’s a hot intensity in his gaze.

  My pulse roars in my ears as he props a hand on the hood of the car and bends until we are face to face, so close I can smell him on the crisp, cold air. His warmth wafts into the car, carrying his scent of pinewood and male musk.

  “Hey,” he says, and shivers run down my spine at the low, rumbling sound. “Waiting for someone?”

  For you, I think. I’ve waited all this time for you, and now I’m not even sure I know you, with your secrets, and your unknown scars.

  “Just drove Tessa here to meet with the guys,” I say, “because her Jeep broke down, but now it looks like Asher isn’t here, so I don’t know if they’re going out or not. I was just waiting for her to tell me…”

  He straightens, his face hardening. I guess reminding him that his brother didn’t appear, probably because of him, is a sore point. And God, I have to stop blabbing! His mere presence turns my brain off.

  Dylan and Tessa are walking toward Dylan’s motorbike, and Zane watches them go, a frown on his face. Then he shrugs and pulls a cigarette from behind his ear.

  “I’m gonna go back inside.” Tyler turns toward the shop. “My shift doesn’t finish until ten.”

  “Tyler…” I climb out and hurry after him as he heads back toward Damage. Zane’s words echo inside my head, and I decide to do as he suggested. “Why did you come back?”

  “What?” He stops dead in his tracks, and I almost plow into his back. “My dad died. My brother almost died, too. You don’t know?”

  “I do. I…” I was expecting something more. Something having to do with me. How foolish. “Never mind.”

  I turn to go, and a hand like a vise grips my wrist. “Wait, Erin.”

  “Yeah?” My voice sounds choked and I hate how it makes me look weak. I’m over him. I really am. Have to be.

  His throat works. “Come inside. I’ll take a break when the customers go. Then we can talk some more.”

  Like we did last time? The question hovers on the tip of my tongue, and the memory sends flames licking my body and need unfurling in my stomach, but I swallow it all back down and follow him into Damage.

  ***

  Inside Damage, it’s warm enough that I take off my jacket and sweater, remaining in my soft, cream-colored blouse.

  From my perch on one of the orange armchairs, I have a good view of the whole shop. Tyler is at the desk, taking appointments by phone and receiving customers who want to look around and see the tattoo catalogs. Zane comes out of his booth at some point, some ink smudged on his cheek. He nods at me before heading out for a cigarette.

  He’s smoking much more than he used to. I think about following him, dragging answers out of him—but then he might turn around and do the same to me. We’ve been treading on a tightrope, maintaining a delicate balance where we avoid stepping on each other’s toes.

  Doesn’t stop me from worrying, though.

  Then Tyler distracts me again when he stretches. Holy crap, this boy has a body like an Olympic swimmer, shoulders big and padded, arms muscular and defined. His shirt rides up and exposes a stomach you can iron clothes on. That stomach, that chest—they should come with danger warnings. He shouldn’t be allowed to stretch like a cat, putting all that mouth-watering, muscled flesh on display.

  Okay, what is wrong with me? Haven’t I decided that all I want from Tyler is an explanation and closure? That what happened last time we met won’t happen again? That I’ll guard my heart—and my body—with all I have?

  Then he glances at me sideways, and my skin feels too hot, too tight wrapped around my bones. I reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly aware of my long, ratty skirt, my unflattering blouse and muddy boots.

  How sexy, Erin.

  You shouldn’t care how you look around him, Erin.

  Great, now the voices in my head are having arguments. Awesome. Irritably I push my bangs out of my eyes and stand. What am I doing? Letting myself fall for him all over again.

  He glances up from the computer, blue light reflecting on his pale face, and he d
oes look haggard, Zane’s right. My heart does a backward flip in my chest, and I know I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. Not when his dark eyes fill with such light when he looks at me.

  I approach the desk. He comes around and takes my hand. I stare at our hands, our entangled fingers, as if in a dream.

  What’s happening?

  He leads me to the back of the shop—not the bathroom this time, but the office. A big desk stacked high with papers stands on one side and an armchair on the other. His hand tight around mine, he leads me inside and locks the door behind us.

  Then he turns around and pins me against it, pressing his powerful body along mine. His hands slam on either side of my face. His breathing is ragged, and his mouth hovers over mine, sending waves of desire through me. I need him—need the coiled strength in those hard muscles. His sharp scent. The softness of his mouth. The warmth he emanates. The burning heat in his eyes.

  His lips caress mine, branding them with fire. It’s not so much a question as a demand, and I let him in. He groans as he deepens the kiss, his tongue invading me, stroking me until I’m throbbing low in my belly. I part my legs, and he presses between them, his arousal long and thick against my stomach. I slip my hands under his shirt, splay my fingers on his lower back, feeling solid muscles shift under his skin.

  Tyler distracts me again, breaking the kiss and running a hand over my breasts. He looks down at them. He cups one, then the other, his thumb circling my hardening nipples through the fabric. My blood burns in my veins, and I can’t help but rub myself against him, trying to relieve the pressure.

  “What are you doing to me?” he whispers, his breath washing over my cheek as he lifts his face, and before I can reply, his mouth fastens again on mine. I love the feel of his firm lips, the roughness of his stubble, and then…

  “Oh God.” His warm hand slides inside the elastic waistband of my skirt. His fingers glide down, under my panties, and lower.

  I jerk. His touch is electric, lighting me up. He rubs his finger up and down, making me moan into his mouth, and he keeps kissing me.