Get It On

by J. Kenner

  Finally, she'd given up and told Tyree that on the days she needed to work in Photoshop, she was going to do it in Elena's apartment with her phone turned off.

  Today was one of those days, and though she'd managed to focus for most of the day, by the time evening rolled around, her mind had begun to wander. Because, dammit, she wanted to be with Tyree.

  She told herself to stop acting like a lovesick teenager and finish her work, and the effect of that stern talking-to lasted for a good twenty minutes. Then she found her mind wandering again. Scheming. Justifying. Because why not go to the bar? The images would still be on her computer tomorrow. And it wasn't as if she had a firm deadline to edit the shots. She was simply trying to keep ahead of the work. But surely a few hours on a Monday night wouldn't throw her too far off schedule. Would it?

  She told herself that it absolutely wouldn't, decided she might as well listen to the little devil on her shoulder, then stood up to go toss on something more presentable than the cut-off pair of Elena's sweatpants she'd pulled on after her shower that morning. And the tank top, while comfortable in the Austin heat, really wasn't appropriate attire, especially since she was wearing it without a bra.

  She'd just stood up to go change when she heard the knock at the front door. She hurried that way, expecting it to be the downstairs neighbor, coming to return the screwdriver she'd borrowed that morning.

  Instead, she found herself staring at Tyree.

  "Oh," she said, then cursed her utter lack of imagination. Why couldn't she have said something clever or sexy? Probably because at the moment she felt ratty, not sexy, but she stood back and let him enter, anyway.

  But as soon as she'd shut the door behind him, she had to rethink that whole sexy thing, because he was looking at her with so much lust that all of her fears about no longer being attractive to him went right out the window. The outfit she wore left very little to the imagination, and if the way his heated gaze was roaming over her--making her blood fire in response--Tyree was more than happy with the way she filled out the shorts and tank.

  "Good Lord, woman. You're going to give a man a heart attack."

  "I think that's one of the best compliments anyone's ever given me."

  "I came over because I wanted to see you. To talk to you. But now..."

  He took a step closer.

  "What?" Her voice sounded breathless.

  "I think I'm going to just skip the talking part," he said, and before she even managed to follow the line of conversation, he had her caged in his arms. His kiss was hot. Deliciously wild. And there was something exciting about being trapped like that in his arms. In knowing that he could do anything he wanted to her in that moment. In hoping that he'd do just that.

  As if she'd voiced her fantasy, he took her arms and thrust them above her head. His palm was big enough that when he crossed her wrists, he was able to hold her there with just one hand. With the other, he pushed up her tank top, making her gasp when he lifted it above her breasts, exposing her nipples.

  He bent, taking one in his mouth, then sucking hard before grazing the tender flesh with his teeth. When he pulled his mouth away, he blew a thin stream of air, and she felt her areola tighten in response to the decadent, wonderful sensation.

  "You have such beautiful breasts," he murmured, closing his mouth over her again and then slowly kissing his way up, playing his lips along her collarbone with such slow and intimate detail she could feel the pull of his touch all the way down between her thighs. She was throbbing there. Her core clenching with desire, wanting him to fill her. Wanting to feel him inside her.

  And at the same time, she didn't want to move. Wanted to stay like this forever, at his mercy, as he teased and tormented her with his mouth and his hands.

  "God, Eva," he groaned. "What have you done to me."

  She laughed. "I don't know. But I'm really glad you came over."

  "I wanted to see you. Hell, I had to see you." He stroked her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Sometimes I think I shouldn't want you this much."

  The words were soft but heartfelt.

  "The distance," she said. "I know. I have a business in San Diego. You have a business here."

  He nodded. "That's part of it. It feels untenable."

  "Maybe it doesn't have to be." She hadn't meant to speak the words, but now that she had, she knew they were true. She craved him. Wanted him. And foolish or not, she believed they'd get over these barriers together.

  She didn't understand the shadow she saw in his eyes. And with a sudden flash of worry, she realized that he'd said their geographical incompatibility was only part of their problem. "Tyree?"

  "Hush," he said. "Let me kiss you." The shadow was gone now, and she wondered if it had only been her imagination. It hadn't been, though. Some part of her knew that. But at the moment, that part of her didn't much care.

  "Just kiss me?" Her body felt hyperaware, and her breath caught in her throat. "What if I want more?"

  "Oh, baby," he said, his voice thick with longing. And then he did kiss her. A long, hot kiss that felt like a promise. The kind of kiss that led places. And, in this case, it led right into the bedroom when he took her hand and drew her there with him.

  "Okay?"

  "Oh, yes," she said, then gasped when he moved closer and slowly, deliciously slowly, drew the tank over her head. He tossed it aside, then bent to take her breast fully in his mouth even as his hand slid down her belly and beneath the loose waistband of the cut-off sweats.

  She wasn't wearing underwear, and his fingers teased over her trimmed pubic hair before brushing over her clit and making her squeak with pleasure, her legs going so weak she wasn't sure if she could stay upright.

  "Please," she murmured, not entirely sure what she was asking for. It didn't matter. He had her well in hand, and after tugging the shorts down, he urged her to sit on the edge of the bed.

  "Lie back," he ordered, and she obeyed willingly, biting her lower lip when he pulled the shorts all the way off of her feet, then spread her legs wide, exposing her fully to him.

  "Tyree," she said, shifting a little, both aroused and shy. The shyness faded, however when she felt his lips brush her inner thigh as the pad of one thumb teased the back of her knee. It was as if she was a sensual instrument, and he was playing her to perfection. He moved slowly, his mouth and tongue tasting and exploring but never reaching her core.

  His fingers danced lightly on her other thigh, moving higher and higher until she arched up in surprise when his fingertip flicked lightly over her clit. "Please," she said, as his lips moved higher, the brush of his close-trimmed beard rubbing her inner thighs in a way that was making her seriously delirious.

  And then--oh, dear God--he closed his mouth over her, his tongue teasing her clit as his fingers slid into her. And she was wet--so incredibly wet--and the feel of him was almost more than she could handle. And yet at the same time she wanted more, and she shamelessly bucked her hips, squirming a bit as his mouth worked serious magic on her, taking her higher and higher until before she knew it a firestorm of electricity was crackling through her body, radiating out through her fingers and toes.

  It had been so long, so damn long, and she couldn't remember ever coming this hard. Her body shook and she cried out. And the cliche was true because-- oh, yes--she actually saw stars.

  When her body quit shaking, she realized that he'd maneuvered her all the way onto the bed, and his body was straddling her, his huge erection brushing her lower belly, and making her crave even more. She wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted the connection, the power, the submission of being claimed by this man who had been a part of her for decades, even when they'd been separated by miles and years.

  "Kiss me," she demanded, then tasted her own arousal on his lips when he complied. She clutched his back pulling him closer. Her nails scraping, her teeth nibbling. She wanted to be taken and she begged him to thrust inside her. "Please. I'm on birth control and I'm clean. Oh, God, pleas
e."

  She closed his eyes, arching up as she spread her legs, felt the weight of him on her, heard his moan of passion as his cock teased her entrance.

  And then she heard his low, anguished cry. "I can't." The words seemed torn from him, and the same force then launched him out of bed and had him pounding the wall with his fist, his erection gone. "Goddammit, Eva, I can't."

  "It's okay." She sat up, the sheet pulled up to her chin. She felt for him, and, yeah, she was disappointed, but it was hardly the end of the world. "Honestly, Tiger, it happens."

  He made a scoffing noise, then seemed to deflate. He reached down and tugged on his briefs, then sat on the edge of the bed. "I should have told you. But I thought--well, with you I thought it would be okay. But it's not. Hell, I think it may actually be worse."

  He met her eyes, and she couldn't find a single word. She was too confused. Too troubled by the way he seemed to be drowning in a pain that seemed bigger than the actual problem.

  "I'm sorry," he said. Then he got up and left the room.

  And since there was no way she was ending the conversation on that note, she slid out of bed, grabbed her robe from the hook on the closet door, and followed him into the living room.

  She found him on the couch and settled in beside him, then put her hand gently on his knee. He turned to her, managed a tiny smile, and then slid his arm around her shoulder.

  Relieved, she leaned against him, thankful that the huge gap that had filled the space between them in the bedroom seemed to have disappeared. But she couldn't let it go. She knew she ought to be hurt by his words--how did she make it worse?--but mostly she was worried about him.

  She needed to understand, and he was the only one who could explain it to her. And at the risk of bringing it all back to the surface, she dove back into the quagmire, and asked him very softly to tell her what was going on.

  For a moment, he said nothing, and she thought he was going to ignore her. Then, slowly, he began to speak. "I've dated three women in the seven years since Teiko died," he said, obviously considering each word. "Not so much because I wanted to, but friends thought I shouldn't be alone. And, honestly, dating isn't entirely accurate. We went out a few times. Played the get-to-know-you game."

  "And sex," she guessed.

  He nodded. "Sometimes it's just about the contact. The connection. Even if there's nothing real underneath."

  "I know. I get it."

  "I got it, too. So did they. We just wanted--release." He let out a frustrated breath. "Which they got, but I didn't. Since she died--since I lost Teiko--I haven't been able to really make love to a woman, and no pill, no toy, no special oil advertised on the internet makes any difference at all."

  "I'm sorry. I'm sure that's horribly frustrating. But if you're worried about the way I feel, you don't have to be. I just want you beside me. Don't get me wrong, it would be nice--I remember how nice it was--but mostly I just want to be with you. The intimacy of us."

  He bent and kissed her head. "Baby, I--I know. And I believe you. And honestly, I would have told you before except that I thought it would be better with you."

  "And instead it was worse."

  He nodded.

  "You loved her very much," she said. "It's hard to let go of someone you love."

  His eyes widened in surprise. "How did you--"

  She pressed a finger to his lips. "It's not exactly a secret that you loved her. That you still love her. And I guess it only makes sense that it's going to come out the most in the bedroom."

  "I'm sorry," he said again.

  "Please. Do not apologize for loving your wife. Never apologize for that."

  He bent over and gently kissed her forehead, his arm tight around her.

  "I do have one question," she admitted. "Why did you think it would be better with me? And then why was it worse?"

  "Don't you know?"

  She shook her head. "That's why I'm asking."

  "Same answer, both questions."

  She just looked at him, silently urging him to tell her.

  "It's because I love you."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eva wished she had some sort of magic pill to give Tyree that would cure his guilt. She understood him loving his wife, and she certainly didn't begrudge him those feelings. But she hated knowing that he was having such a hard time moving forward, especially after so much time.

  More than that, she hated the tiny insecurities that popped up inside herself. Because the truth was, she was falling back in love with him. Assuming she'd ever fallen out of love in the first place. And though he said he loved her, she feared that he really didn't. Or, more accurately, that he was holding back. That he wasn't willing to really be with her, because he feared that somehow taking a step toward her meant walking away from Teiko.

  And, she supposed, it did. But wasn't that okay? Wasn't that the nature of healing?

  Or was she being selfish, wishing that he'd heal faster and feel differently because that was what she wanted, not necessarily what he needed?

  Honestly? She didn't know what to think.

  And so she told herself that she wasn't going to think at all. She was in Austin for the time being, and she was going to do her work, spend time with her daughter, and enjoy as much time and intimacy with Tyree as he and their schedules would allow.

  After that, she'd see where they stood. Maybe not the best plan, but her only other option was to put on the brakes and revert to simply co-parenting Elena.

  Frankly, she'd moved way past that option.

  Last night, he'd left the apartment before Elena had gotten home. They hadn't returned to the bedroom, but had instead snuggled on the couch, talking and making out as if they were teenagers. It had been sweet, and even a little refreshing, and the only downside was that she hadn't woken up in his arms.

  They had, however, planned to meet for coffee, a walk around the lake, and then a leisurely breakfast. Which was why she was currently hanging out on the corner of Cesar Chavez and Congress, taking random pictures of the scenery just to pass the time.

  Then her camera caught him walking up the trail holding two to-go cups and a white paper bag. She took a series of shots, him closer in each one, until finally only the coffee filled the frame. "It'll be great art," she said, when she lowered the camera to face his amused expression. "Or just something silly for me to look at when I'm alone."

  "I vote the latter," he said, then passed her a coffee. "And I know we talked about getting breakfast, but it's such a gorgeous morning, I thought we might walk longer and have Kolaches." He held up the bag, and she peered in to find a selection of cheese, fruit, and sausage pastries.

  Already hungry, she took out a sausage-filled one and took a bite, enjoying the sharp tang of the pastry-wrapped sausage. "This is great," she said. "Thanks."

  "I also thought that if you wanted, we could spend the day together. Maybe head over to my house after our walk. Talk a bit. Fix some lunch. I have a covered patio and a great selection of wine. We could get a little drunk in the afternoon, see where it leads."

  She shot him a sideways glance, wondering how far he intended it to lead. Another try after last night? Or did he want to back off the bedroom for a bit? Either way, though, it sounded tempting. And she could talk to him about her fears about his wifely guilt later. No sense ruining a perfectly lovely day with serious relationship talk.

  "That sounds great. But are you sure it's a good idea? I've been usurping a lot of your time lately. What are your partners at The Fix going to think?"

  "Probably that I'm ridiculously fond of you. And that I haven't given myself a vacation in a long, long time."

  "Is that what I am? A vacation?"

  He popped the last bite of his pastry in his mouth, then took her hand. "You're a hell of a lot more than that," he said, with such sincerity it made her heart swell. "But speaking of vacations," he continued, "are you regretting not going to Vancouver?"

  "Only as far as the temperature an
d humidity goes," she admitted. "It's brutal here. But the other amenities in Austin make up for it."

  "Yeah?" he teased. "Like what?"

  "Oh, you know. Great local bars. Cute guys on the jogging trails. Lots of places that serve breakfast tacos. General Austin stuff."

  He tugged her to a stop, then kissed her, his mouth tasting like sausage. "That's all?"

  "Oh, wait. There's this man I'm fond of..."

  He laughed, and they continued along the walking path, chatting about the bar, the kids, the weather. Pretty much everything until she circled back to their original conversation. "I just want to be sure that I'm not a distraction. I know the idea is for you to up the revenue at the bar. I don't want to feel like I'm hindering that."

  "You're not. And I like the distraction. It feels good, actually. Like I'm finding my center again."

  She paused on the trail. "Do you mean that?"

  He nodded. "Yeah. I do."

  A smile tugged at her mouth. "In that case, good."

  "Come on. Let's head back to my car."

  They turned around, then headed back the way they came, foregoing the longer path that circled the downtown section of the river. "Can I ask you something else?" she asked after they'd walked about a quarter of a mile. "Why didn't you ever look for me? I mean, I know you sent letters, and since my father hid them, I never answered you. But why didn't you come looking for me to ask why?"

  It wasn't until the words were out that she realized how much his answer mattered to her. And when he spoke, the words hit her with the force of a brick.

  "I did," he said. "I saw you with David. And with Elena. I assumed she was his."

  She stopped on the track, staring at him. "But that would mean I would have had to have hooked up with David about fifteen seconds after you shipped out."

  "I know," he said, and she froze, stopped cold by the pain in his voice.

  "Oh, Tiger," she said. "All these years, you'd thought--"

  He shook his head, his finger on her lips gently silencing her. "You're here now. And none of that matters anymore."

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was, Tyree thought, an entirely different vibe to be in the back bar waiting for his cue to strut than it was to be standing near the stage waiting for the contestants to start strutting.