Get It On

by J. Kenner

  All things being equal, he'd rather be in the audience. And for a moment, he wondered what the hell he'd been thinking. After all, the owner of the bar holding the contest didn't actually need to be in the contest. Surely that was some sort of horrible conflict of interest. Clearly, he'd been suffering from a particularly virulent form of insanity when he'd agreed.

  Which, he supposed, was somewhat true. Because Eva did make him crazy, in the best possible way. And she was the one who'd roped him into this.

  He fully intended to make her pay. In, of course, the best possible way. And detailed, sensual visions of the actual payment he planned to demand flitted through his mind in such vivid detail that he actually missed his cue to go on stage.

  "Go!" Mina gave him a shove, and he stumbled forward as the emcee, Beverly, called to the crowd for a shout-out.

  "Yes, folks, we finally did it! We finally convinced our very own Tyree Johnson to enter the contest. As you probably know, Tyree is your gracious host here at The Fix, and from what I understand, it took more than a little cajoling to get him on stage. But now it's time for the real test," she said, as a classic stripper tune started coming out of the speakers. "Come on, my friend, let's see those pecs."

  He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, run, or find Eva and drag her up on the stage beside him. But he did find her in the crowd with Elena at her side, both of them looking ridiculously amused. Oh, yeah. There would most definitely be payment tonight.

  The crowd started to urge him on, and what the hell, right? He could hardly ask dozens of men--including some of his own employees--to do what he didn't have the balls to do. Besides, he worked out. He might be forty-six, but he wasn't shabby.

  With one quick motion, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, then tossed the T-shirt into the crowd, to a chorus of whoops and claps.

  He struck a Mr. Universe-style pose, did a turn to show off his back, and then slid out of the spotlight to stand among the other tributes to the fires of insanity. Finally, he caught Eva's eye in the crowd, then chuckled when she fanned her face, as if to suggest that he was just too hot. Beside her, Elena had her hand over her mouth, obviously holding in laughter.

  He bit back his own grin, feeling a bit like a fool, but having a lot more fun than he'd anticipated.

  There was only one contestant after him, so he didn't have long to wait until all the men on the stage were released to mingle in the crowd. He searched for Eva, but realized that she'd disappeared in the crush. That was also the moment he realized that his spur of the moment decision to toss his shirt into the crowd had been a boneheaded move. Apparently, he was going to have to mingle half-naked with his customers.

  Great.

  "Hey there, stud." Eva's sultry voice teased him from behind. "I've got something for you."

  He turned to find her holding out a black The Fix on Sixth T-shirt for him.

  "Have I told you how very incredibly wonderful you are?"

  "Feel free to fill me in. Although this is more selfishness than awesomeness. It's in my interest to cover you up, after all. It's one thing on stage. Entirely another to be walking around in the wild where other women can ogle you."

  "Ogle? Hmm. Sounds kinky." He stepped closer and put his arms around her waist. "Maybe later we can do some ogling."

  "Okay, you two," Elena said as she approached. "Break it up."

  "Nothing doing," Tyree said. And then, because he was still on his celebrity high, he pulled Eva to him and kissed her long and hard, not releasing her until he heard he sounds of cheers and applause from all around them.

  When he did let her go, she laughed, a little breathless. "If that's your definition of ogling, I'm all for a little more. But what--"

  Her question was cut off by Beverly's return to the stage. "After this, I'm taking you to the Driskill," he whispered, causing Eva to turn in his arms.

  "You better not mean just for a drink," she said.

  "Third floor. A lovely room. I'm assured by the front desk that it even has a bed."

  "In other words, all the amenities we need."

  "In other words," he added, "no kids in second bedrooms."

  Beside them, one of the kids in question was jumping up and down, and it took Tyree a second to wrap is mind around what she was saying.

  "You won! You won! Dad! Hello? Daddy! You won!"

  And in that moment, he realized two things. First, that his chest was going to be plastered on the pages of his own damn calendar.

  And second, that for the first time, his daughter had called him Dad.

  * * *

  He hadn't been lying when he told her it was a lovely room. It was stunning. Well-appointed. Comfortable. Altogether fabulous.

  And Tyree couldn't care less.

  All he wanted--all he needed--was Eva. She'd become the center of his world, the focal point of his days and his nights.

  She was the mother of his daughter. His friend. His lover.

  And, dammit, it was the last part that he intended to explore tonight. Had to. Because he'd been craving her all damn day. The simple, attractive T-shirt. The thin, summer skirt. The casual sandals. She looked like a picnic, and he wanted to devour her.

  "Bed," he said, the moment they entered the room.

  She lifted her brows. "Bossy."

  "Oh, yes," he said, then scooped her up and tossed her where he wanted her, making her squeal with laughter--a laughter he quickly turned into a sensual groan when he lifted her skirt and tugged down her panties, then dipped his head for a deliciously intimate taste.

  "Oh, God," she cried, her hands clutching his head, her hips bucking against his mouth. He'd planned on a soft, romantic night. Instead, this was hard and hot and wild--and he couldn't deny that he liked it. The taste of her, the need. The hot, shameless way she demanded his fingers and tongue.

  And, dear Lord, his cock liked it, too. He was hard. Painfully so. And he wanted so badly to sink inside of her.

  He knew better, though. He didn't want a repeat of the other night. All he wanted tonight was pleasure. All he wanted was to see her wild for him, to hear her cry his name. To make her shatter in his arms.

  He teased her clit and her pussy mercilessly, and he could feel the tension building inside her, making her climb higher and higher. And it was him taking her there. The power of that humbled him, knowing that he was bringing her such pleasure. Knowing that they could share such incredibly intimacy.

  And there it was.

  He wanted that. The sharing. He wanted to feel her tighten around his cock. He wanted her to milk him, to go over the edge with him.

  He wanted that--he did, dammit.

  And before he could talk himself out of trying, he stripped off his jeans, then slid on top of her. His mouth found hers as he straddled her, pushing her knees up to open her even more too him.

  "Tyree, are you sure?"

  But he didn't answer her with words. He just slid his fingers inside her, making sure she was wet enough for him, ready enough. And then he slowly thrust his cock into her. Just a little, just a test. But it was good--oh, Christ, it was good--then a little more and a little more until finally he was pistoning against her, their bodies slapping together, and she was crying out, telling him how good it felt, how deep he was, how she never wanted him to stop.

  And he was close, so damn close. So was she, her muscles clenching around him, taking him further and further until finally his entire body shattered, the force of his orgasm ripping him apart as intense waves of joy shook him. Joy. Pleasure. Passion.

  Eva.

  It was all Eva. Every thought. Every feeling. Every wild sensation.

  She filled him. Illuminated him. Made him whole.

  He wanted her. Needed her.

  For one short moment, he reveled in that simple truth. Then everything imploded, and reality hauled back and kicked him hard in the balls.

  A shudder cut through him, and he pulled out of her as a tidal wave of heavy, potent guilt cra
shed over him, sweeping him away. Sweeping everything away. Until he was lost. So damn lost.

  "Tyree?" She sat up, confusion flooding her voice. "Are you okay?"

  Christ, he probably looked like he'd had a stroke. He held up a hand to stave off her touch. "Fine," he said. "I'm--"

  Lost? Guilty? Confused? Pitiful?

  He didn't know. Dear Lord, he didn't know.

  "I'm sorry," he said as he slid off the bed. It was all he could say.

  It was the best he could do.

  And though she begged him to stop, to stay, to explain, he just moved faster, hurrying into his clothes and then out the door into the Driskill's abandoned hallway and the illusion that he'd gotten his shit under control.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "I don't know, Mom," Elena said, fidgeting with her phone as she perched on the bed Eva had been using. "I still think you're being a little hasty."

  Eva frowned as she turned a circle in the room, checking to make sure she'd tossed all her personal things into her duffel. Eva had returned to the apartment in the middle of the night, then waited up for Elena to come home. They'd talked on the couch for hours, and Eva had explained to her daughter that she needed to go back to San Diego. Not only because she had a business to run, but because Tyree needed space.

  "I'm not saying it's over." Please, don't let it be over. "But I am saying he has some things to work out."

  "Then work them out with him. I mean, come on, Mom. This is my dad."

  Eva sighed, and stopped packing, her attention focused entirely on her daughter. "I know. And I know that you'd thought you were getting the fairy tale. Honestly, I thought I was, too. But that's not the way the story's turning out. Your father loved his wife. Really loved her. And that's wonderful, but it's also confusing for him. And it only makes it harder for him when I'm here."

  "Sounds like a cop-out to me."

  Eva shook her head. "No. No, it's not like that. I don't want to leave. I love him. I love him more than I did before you were born, and there's not much I wouldn't give to stay here with him."

  "Then stay." Elena wasn't crying, but her voice sounded thick with coming tears.

  "I said there wasn't much. But I won't give myself. I won't settle. I did that before, and I'm not going to do it again."

  Elena licked her lips. "But it's Daddy."

  "Oh, baby," Eva said, as she lifted the duffel onto her shoulder. "Whatever Tyree Johnson is to me, I swear he will always be your daddy."

  A tear trickled from her daughter's eye, and Eva forced herself to stay strong. She leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I'm going now," she said, then hurried into the living room and toward the front door, intending to go down to the street and wait for her ride share.

  Instead, she opened the door and found Tyree.

  "You're leaving?"

  Eva turned, shooting a frustrated glance toward the bedroom. And toward the daughter inside who'd been fiddling--apparently texting--on her phone.

  "We both know it's best, Tyree. And it doesn't have to be goodbye. We can talk later. But you need space."

  He stepped into the apartment, forcing her to either hold her ground or take a step back. She stepped back. It was just too damn hard to think when he was that near.

  "Don't tell me what I need. Especially when what I need is you."

  "Do you?"

  "Eva..." His voice sounded ripped. Like by just asking the question she'd broken his heart.

  She drew in a breath, determined to remain firm. "Fine, maybe you don't need space, but I do. I need time. I think we both do."

  He took her hand, and she felt it swallowed up in the warmth of his strong grip. "Please, Eva. I don't want to lose you."

  "I don't want to lose you either," she said, then saw his shoulders sag with relief. "But I'm not going to settle anymore, either." She drew in a breath for courage. "I have a career I love back in California, and I want a man who loves me. Who isn't afraid to love me completely."

  She touched her fingertips to his face. "I don't know if that's you or not, Tiger. I'd like to believe it is. But you won't let yourself love me. Not fully. Because you think it's dishonoring Teiko. You're a big man, Ty, with a big heart. Did you ever think there's room in there for the both of us?"

  "Eva, please."

  But she just shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. I have to go home. Tell Jenna I'll call her. I can come out and do all the calendar shots right after Mr. December is chosen. I'll make it work. And Elena can do the publicity shots and I'll clean them up in Photoshop for her."

  He rubbed his eyebrow, his expression pained. "Don't go. Can't we--"

  "There's no we," she said gently. "There can't be a we until you figure some things out."

  She kissed him gently on the cheek. "I love you," she said. "For that matter, I never stopped loving you. And I never will. But right now, I have to go."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Over two million people lived in the Austin metropolitan area, but with each passing day without Eva, the town felt more and more empty. Hollow.

  Tyree sighed. It wasn't the town, he thought, as he stood at the front window of The Fix and looked out at the dense crowd of people out for a good time on a Saturday night. It was her. Because any place without Eva was a cold, empty space.

  Frustrated, he pulled out his phone, just as he'd done every few hours for the last three days. This time, though, he was finally going to call her.

  Except when he dialed, it was Elena's number.

  She answered on the first ring. "Hey, Daddy. You okay?"

  He bit back a sad smile. Already, the kid knew him too well. "Fine," he lied. "Listen, Eli's studying late at a friend's, and you and I both have the night off from The Fix. Want to grab dinner with me?"

  "You're not working tonight?"

  "Nope." He justified the lie by reminding himself that he'd tell Reece to take over and walk out that door the minute she agreed to meet him.

  "Um, Daddy?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Turn around."

  Shit. He did, then found himself facing his daughter, who sat having a drink at one of the tables in the far corner of the main room, with Amanda, Nolan, and Shelby sitting beside her.

  "Well, what do you know," he said. "Looks like we both hang out at the same place on our day off."

  Even across the room, he could see her roll her eyes. Then she said something to the others, stood up, and very deliberately walked over to him, ending the call in the process.

  "So, I'm guessing this is a yes for dinner?"

  She crossed her arms and cocked her head. "You know I'm not the one you want to be having dinner with. Call her."

  He shook his head, then sighed. "She has her life out there."

  "Yeah. But she doesn't have you."

  "Have you talked to her?"

  "Well, duh. She's my mom."

  "And?"

  "And you already know. She loves you. She's not the problem here. I thought she was before she took off, but we've talked some more and I've thought a lot about it. And she's right. You're the one who needs to kick his own ass."

  He fought back a bitter laugh. Wasn't that the truth?

  She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry, Daddy, but I've already got dinner plans. And honestly? I think you need to sit down and do some serious thinking. You're throwing away happiness and thinking it makes you a martyr. It doesn't. It just makes you stupid."

  "That's harsh," he said.

  She lifted a shoulder. "Maybe. But it sure looks like truth from where I'm standing."

  * * *

  Tyree was dozing on the couch when Eli walked in. He did a lot of that lately. Either slept or buried himself in work. There really wasn't much of a middle ground.

  "You're home," Eli said as Tyree scrubbed his face with his palms, trying to wake up. His beard, which he usually kept trimmed, had grown wild. Right at the moment, he really didn't care.

  Eli plunked down on the coffee table right in front of h
im. "You look like crap."

  "And a warm welcome to you, too, son."

  "At least you've got your sense of humor."

  Tyree didn't answer. He wasn't sure he had any sense of humor left, actually.

  "Elena picked me up after school today," he said. "We went to Starbucks."

  "How is she?"

  "Better than you, that's for damn sure."

  "Language, Eli."

  "Damn, fuck, shit, piss."

  Tyree opened his eyes wide. "What the devil's wrong with you?"

  "There." Eli pointed a finger at him. "That's the question. What's wrong with you?"

  Tyree drew in one long breath, then let it out slowly. "I'm in a funk. I know it, but I'll get out of it. I just need a little time. A little space. Everyone needs a little space sometimes."

  "Elena says you need a kick in the balls."

  The words almost made him smile. Instead, he said, "Let's temporarily remove your sister from the role-model list, okay?"

  "Do you remember the last time we went to Mom's grave?"

  Tyree's head whipped up, both at the mention of Teiko and at the complete non sequitur. "Of course. That was the seventh anniversary of her death."

  "No," Eli said. "No more of that shit."

  The words stung. More than that, they confused. "What are you talking about?"

  "Anniversaries are for celebrating. I'm not gonna celebrate losing my mom. Not anymore."

  "Eli--"

  "No. Listen to me. I'm not going there anymore. Not like that, anyway. Not like it's a ritual."

  "Be careful, son." Tyree's whole body felt cold. Tense. "You're treading on very thin ice."

  "I've been thinking about it. I don't think she'd like it. I remember her every day, Dad," he said, his eyes shining now. "I don't have to go to a grave to do that. And you know what? She wouldn't want me to."

  A tear trickled down the side of his nose. "She'd tell me I was rearranging my life for a life that didn't exist anymore. She'd want me to stop. Like with my jeans."

  He'd been about to explode. Now he felt deflated and confused. "Jeans?"

  "Yeah." Eli nodded. "You said she wouldn't care what I wore that day, remember? And you were right. She doesn't care what we wear, Dad. She just wants us to be happy."