My Tye

by Kristin Daniels

  He was frustrated beyond belief, and not just sexually. With no hard evidence, her case had the potential of quickly going cold. There hadn’t been any other attacks, which wasn’t wholly unexpected. Mac had called him the next day to inform him that he’d impounded her car but it was clean of any prints or trace evidence and that, yes, the perpetrator responsible for the attacks five years ago was still receiving his three squares a day in his cozy confines behind bars, which boiled down to them having a new culprit running around on the loose. A copycat, maybe. Or a relative on a vendetta. Or, Lord forbid, a fan of the fucker who was looking to continue the legacy.

  None of those scenarios appealed to Tye in the least. Any one of them had him seeing ten different shades of red. Still, when it came to Laine, the whys or hows or whos didn’t really matter. Someone involved in the old cases, or some brand-spanking-new freak show—it was all the same to him. Either way, he sure as hell wasn’t going to take even the slightest of chances.

  He insisted on keeping her at the ranch and at first she seemed okay with that. But today he witnessed a new restlessness amping up inside her. The way she’d repeatedly wander from the kitchen to the living room and back again. The way she’d sit to watch TV, then toss the remote on the coffee table and start pacing again only a few minutes later. She was getting fidgety, as any typically busy person would get when their professional life came to a screeching halt. He knew she hated calling in sick, hated being in touch with her office only by email and a few phone calls. Add to that the fact she was feeling better, and boredom was readily eating her up inside.

  But Tye had a plan to change all that, at least for tonight.

  The delivery truck pulled up right on time. It paid to know people in town, and Tye wasn’t above calling in some favors when it came to taking care of Laine. When the knock came at the door, he glanced up from the mess of paperwork covering his kitchen table to where she sat at the breakfast counter.

  “Mind answering that?”

  Her gaze bounced from him to the door and back again, like she wasn’t so sure he really meant what he asked.

  “It’s okay,” he added. “I know who it is.”

  “Um, all right.”

  As she walked over to the front door, he pushed his chair away from the table, leaned back and crossed his arms. This scenario could end one of two ways—with her smiling and happy, or with her closing herself off from him.

  He sure as fuck was counting on the smiling and happy outcome.

  Murmurs trickled in from the doorway, and a second later she kicked the door closed and came back into the room with a big, rectangular box in her hands. Despite the sideways glance she gave him, a smile grew on her lips.

  Thank God.

  “What did you do?”

  Since he already told her he knew who was at the door, he figured acting like he didn’t have clue to what she was talking about wouldn’t really work. “It’s for you. Open it.”

  There was something mystical about the way she carefully set the box on the table and gingerly lifted the lid—so unlike a kid at Christmastime ripping through the wrappings of the gift she’d waited for all year long. She pulled back the tissue paper with a tenderness he hadn’t really expected, like she wanted to savor whatever it was he was surprising her with.

  When her eyes widened, he couldn’t help but smile, too.

  “A dress?”

  “And shoes.”

  She lifted the black strapless cocktail dress from the box and held it up. After a second, she said, “To wear around the house?”

  Tye stood then, coming around to her side of the table. He stroked his hand gently up her back. “No. I’m taking you out.”

  She clutched the little black dress to her chest. “Like, out of here?”

  He chuckled. “Very out of here. I have a friend who owns the art gallery over in Allendale. He’s agreed to let us have a private viewing of his upcoming show. Then, afterward, we can stop for a late dinner.”

  “Out…” she whispered.

  Despite her restlessness, he never considered that maybe she didn’t want to go anywhere. “Only if you want to go, of course.”

  She lifted one of the shoes out of the box. A silver, strappy heel to go along with the dress. She turned it in her hand this way and that before answering him. “No, I want to go. I do.” Then she smiled at him. “How’d you manage this?”

  He shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Helps to have people who owe you favors.”

  “I guess so.” She held the dress up again. “It’s gorgeous, Tye. Thank you.”

  Every nerve in his body stood at attention at her sincere appreciation. “My pleasure.”

  And honestly, it was. Her pleasure was his pleasure, any happiness he could give her was quickly becoming his own.

  “When do we leave?” she asked.

  He glanced at his watch before considering the mess on the table. Fuck it, he thought. Those month-end reports could wait until hell froze over, for all he cared. This night with Laine, what this night with her could turn out to be, crushed everything else weighing heavy on his to-do list.

  “Seven? Is forty-five minutes long enough?”

  She blessed him with another grin. “That would be perfect.”

  He let her have his room again, just as he had all week. It killed him to know she was in his shower alone, that she was lathering up in there using his shampoo and soap. But he shoved away the need thrashing around inside him long enough to grab his black suit, gray shirt and matching tie from the closet, then schlepped his ass back to the guest room to get ready.

  Not that leaving his room made much difference. His entire body hardened once he stepped into the guest shower. His muscles, his dick. His fucking brain. He thought about taking things in his own, um, hand. To ease the ache raging through his body with a little private jerk session, but no. He wasn’t some sort of sex-starved maniac. He was, however, running along that fine line, needing her and wanting her more than he had anything or anyone else before.

  But he could be patient. Hell, he was the epitome of patience. He could deny himself in order to give her what she needed.

  For the time being, anyway.

  He was good with that, really believed it, actually. Up until it came time to leave and he got a glimpse of her sashaying down the hallway toward the living room.

  He came this close to swallowing his tongue whole. The dress fit her like a glove, setting off her dips and curves so well he thought he might choke. The shoes, which were neither too high nor too low, added the perfect touch. Her hair fell softly around her shoulders and he got a whiff of… Not any kind of perfume really, but simply her.

  Damn it, he was in a shitload of never-before-has-my-control-been-tested-like-this trouble.

  “Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand for her. He kept his voice low and throaty in order to barrel through any sort of tremor that might decide to reveal itself and embarrass the hell out of him.

  She took his hand. “I am.”

  Question was, was he? He imagined her for a moment right back in his bedroom. On his bed. Not exactly naked, but in some kind of skimpy lingerie. Black, and all lacy. Her skin would be rosy, flushed from wanting him so much. She’d be reaching out to him, calling his name…

  Fuck.

  “You look…amazing,” he said.

  And there was that flush to her skin he was dying to see. “Thank you. Again.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, only squeezed her hand gently and tossed out a hurried, “Let’s go.”

  They made their way outside, and as he settled her inside his truck he oddly wished he drove a Beemer or some other luxury car. Not that she cared about stuff like that, he knew, but the urge to treat her special and give her everything he possibly could snuck up and rode him hard.

  The thirty-minute drive to Allendale went by quickly, in spite of him feeling like one big ball of raging testosterone. Their conversation flowed easily enough, from a short discus
sion about the custom-engineered interior of his truck all the way down to how mild the weather was for this time of year. They never touched on anything too heavy or important, and frankly, that suited him just fine. Tonight was going to be about the two of them. Nothing work or case related allowed.

  He pulled around to the back of the gallery and parked next to the rear entrance. Cal, the gallery owner, would be expecting them and in the back of Tye’s mind, he hoped the semi-rock-star treatment might do just a little to impress her.

  He turned the truck off and sat there for a moment. “Here we are.”

  She deserved some gentlemanly behavior and he would give her as much of that tonight as he could. He got out of his truck, pocketed his keys and sucked back a quick, settling breath. Laine sat staring out of the truck’s window, like she was dissecting the back of the building in her mind. Or, probably more accurately, tearing apart all the shadows hiding back there. As he cleared his throat to get her attention, it was as if he snapped her out of a trance. She looked over at him, plastering on a fake yet brave front. That she felt she needed to sent a somber knife through his heart, but had the rest of him rising to high alert. It took everything he had not to lean in and kiss her to reassure her everything really was okay.

  Instead, he held out his hand. She took it, tentatively, all the while fisting her other. Jesus, this was supposed to be a quiet night out, yet here she was all riled. That simply wouldn’t do.

  “Laine. Relax, okay? This is just an easy night out. Nothing serious. It’s only a little art. We’re safe here. I promise.”

  She let out a breath and eased her shoulders somewhat, but he wasn’t sure if her doing so was for his benefit or hers. “I know. I’m okay. Let’s go.”

  He led her from his truck to the steel security door with his arm securely around her and tapped the buzzer once they got there. A moment later, the door swung open on a loud creak.

  “Tye, my man. Come on in.”

  “Cal,” Tye answered while grabbing the other man’s hand in a firm grip. “Thanks for inviting us stop by like this.”

  Cal waved him off and stepped aside to let them in. “No problem at all. Unless you mind a mess. We’ve still got some finishing touches to wrap up before the opening tomorrow night, so there’s a few tools and ladders strewn here or there. If you can ignore all that, then you’re more than welcome to come in and browse around.”

  “I’m sure we can handle it.” Tightening his arm around Laine’s waist, he drew her closer to his side. “Calvin Weber, this is Laine Morgan. She’s Lake County’s Public Defender.”

  When Cal offered his hand, Laine smiled and shook it gently. She was quiet, though. Not as robust as she typically would be when first meeting someone new, but considering what she’d been through, her apprehension was more than understandable.

  “Laine. Nice to meet you.” Then to Tye, Cal said, “I’m going to leave you two to your own devices. I’ve got a ton of paperwork I’ve ignored for the past two weeks that I need to catch up on. I’ll be in the upstairs office, just yell if you need anything.” He walked them further into the gallery space before gesturing to the corner. “There’s some wine over there at the bar and I think there might be a beer or two in the back fridge. Other than that, the beverage situation is pretty much nil until the wait service arrives tomorrow afternoon.”

  “What you have will be fine. Thanks again.”

  With that, Cal headed off, leaving the two of them alone. Tye slid his hands into his pants pockets and stood there, watching as Laine took in their surroundings. Actually, he was gauging her more than anything else. He never mentioned what kind of art show he was taking her to.

  “Would you like some wine?”

  She gentled a hand over her stomach and swallowed. “Oh. Sure.”

  As they made their way over to the corner bar, her eyes widened a little further as she glanced at a few more of the displays. Tye found the wine and opener and made quick work of popping the cork. He poured two glasses of the Cabernet before handing one to her. She took it without looking at either him or the glass. Instead, she continued scanning the rest of the space.

  He noticed the instant the realization hit her what kind of show he’d brought her to. She froze in place and clutched the wineglass in both hands. She held her breath, but only until she saw him watching her.

  “Why don’t we start over here?” he said, taking one of her hands in his before she ended up shattering the glass by squeezing it so hard.

  She nodded slightly and followed along with him as he started toward the left. The first exhibit they stopped at was a watercolor painting by a local artist. Damn if Tye could figure out by looking at it what anything was, but the title printed on the little plaque beside it gave him a clue.

  Dawn after Dusk was a canvas of bright red drips with a circle of midnight blue high in the upper left corner and what looked to be a female’s silhouette lying along the bottom. Interesting, sure, but abstractionism wasn’t really his thing. Laine didn’t seem too enthralled either, and he appreciated that. Art-wise, at least, it appeared they were on the same exact page.

  They strolled on to a grouping of black and white photos. This artist, he recognized. From the delicate collared neck of the nude woman in the first photo, down to the man wearing only a leather-studded cock ring around his penis and testicles in the last. Laine swallowed again, harder this time, and he simply watched her. She met his gaze, but only for an instant before once more looking away.

  “This is…” she started as he moved them on.

  He stopped in front of an entwined-lovers sculpture crafted out of thin, twisted strands of copper wiring. “It’s what you want it to be. It’s art. It’s erotica.” He slipped in behind her, settled his hands on her hips and turned her toward the next display—a blown-up color photo of a man’s hand cupping a woman’s nipple-clamped breast.

  When Laine tensed, he smoothed a kiss on her neck and gripped her hips a little more firmly. “It can be pain,” he went on. “Or it can be very pleasurable.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” she breathlessly whispered from over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were taking me?”

  “Would you not have come with me?” When she didn’t answer, he lowered his lips next to her ear. “I brought you here because I wanted to see your reactions. Because I wanted you to see mine.”

  No matter what her subconscious might be saying to her, her body was telling him a completely different story. She thought she didn’t want the pain, she even went so far as to tell him so. But her reaction to this picture, to the bright red nipple protruding beyond the tightened clamp, said so much more.

  Her breaths were becoming heavier as her hips shifted delicately under his hands. And when she spoke, her voice came out lower. More throaty. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “Because it is,” he said. “Our needs dictate our reactions, Laine. Our responses echo our desires. We can make them as simple or as complicated as we like. It’s our choice.”

  She reached out and ran a finger along the edge of the frame. “But needs and desires are so subjective. What I want might not be what you need.”

  “But what if it is? What if what you want is exactly what I need to give you?”

  She stepped out of his hold without answering and moved on to the next display. This one was more tame, an oil painting of a nude woman running along a beach. He came up behind her again, so close to touching her, yet he held back.

  “You’re not answering me because you know I’m right. And that scares you.”

  “I’m not scared,” she said a little too quickly before heading to the next grouping of photos.

  This set screamed romanticism. Yards and yards of vibrant blue silk flowed across each photo. The wavy material had been draped and wrapped around the athletic nude bodies of two men and one woman. The black background in the photos set off the vibrant colors of not only the silk, but of the contrasting flesh tone of the
ir bodies as well.

  In one of the photos, the woman’s wrists were bound. In another, the male models were tied to each other. And in yet another, the woman was in the arms of one of the men. He held a white leather flogger against her thigh and her head was tossed back with an expression of pure pleasure on her face.

  Laine stared at the set, studying each photo. The idea of pain may make her tense up, but this…

  She sighed and brushed her lips with the tips of her fingers. The breath might’ve come out quiet and soft, but Tye caught it nonetheless. And that was when he was hit with an epiphany of his own.

  She’d never come right out and told him what she’d gone to Club Euphoria looking for. The only thing she’d mentioned was that what she ended up seeing wasn’t what she’d hoped to find. He’d given her a little taste of domination at her house, which she’d readily responded to. And now, watching her here, seeing the almost dreamy way she studied these pictures…

  She was looking for the passion, the idealistic eroticism portrayed in the photos. His mind spun in circles with ideas of how he could give her not just that, but so much more as well. His palms suddenly itched with the need, his heart pounded from the urge to get the hell out of here and haul ass back to the ranch. He was dying to introduce her to what he now knew she wanted.

  But at the same time, he didn’t want to rush her. Tonight wasn’t about him and his fucking libido. It was about the two of them getting to know each other better, about him getting her out of the house to prevent a surefire case of the stir-crazies.

  Once again, he called on his patience to quiet himself down. A little part inside him wanted to kick all of his woosah-calm-the-hell-down demeanor to the curb and take her right here and now, but he stifled that compulsion too. Because, truly, God help him if he didn’t.

  He sipped his wine and stepped up beside her. He laid his hand at the small of her back, teasing her by rubbing tiny circles there. The look she gave him when he did overflowed with a strange combination of angst and serenity. The polarity between the two emotions struck him hard, and for the first time in a long time he didn’t know what to say.