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12
Tyler’s kissing me.
He’s dark and warm and thrilling, and when his tongue presses against my lips, I welcome him inside. It feels as if all I’ve ever wanted is to have him inside me—though I often think I’m part of himinstead.
I’m the stars, burning and shifting, and Tyler’s my sky, the dark and velvet eternity I livefor.
If tonight hasn’t already changed me, I know now that itwill.
Tyler’s steel arms bring my hips againsthis.
He’s a brick wall, hard and unrelenting, and I want every inch ofhim.
Catcalls go up fromsomewhere.
Tyler pulls back, his breath rough, his gaze liquid desire. I thread my fingers in his hair,grinning.
“What’s that face?” hedemands.
“That night we danced together, I decided your hair wasn’t long enough to pull. I’m glad I waswrong.”
His growl sends heat pooling between my thighs. “Upstairs.Now.”
We stumble toward the stairwell, and the door closes afterus.
“Please tell me Rae and Elle aren’t home.” He takes the steps two at a time. I try to keep up, my fingers laced withhis.
“Don’t think so.” I hope to hell Elle’s still at the performance and Rae’s… wherever she disappearsto.
On six, we trip down the hall, passing only one other girl on the way to my room, who offers me a thumbs up as she takes usin.
I push open the door, relieved to find it empty, then I tug my hand from his and head for mycloset.
I take a ballet flat and hang it on the door handle. “It’s not a sock, but she’ll figure it out.” I shut the door afterus.
The laughter fades from his face, replaced by intensity as he realizes the same thing as Ido.
It’s been five years since I had a crush onTyler.
Two since I fell in love withhim.
A year and a half since he broke myheart.
And now we’re going to dothis.
Tyler backs me toward the bed until my calves hit theside.
I’m older now. Wiser. This doesn’t mean I’m losing my head or myheart.
But as he reaches behind his head and strips off his shirt, tossing it on the floor by the bed, I nearly swallow mytongue.
His shoulders are broader than I remember, his abs and pecs even more defined. Tyler’s so distractingly attractive with clothes on it should be illegal for him to take themoff.
“Holy… You’re like art,” I blurt, and his sudden smile cracks the mask of intensity on hisface.
He’s muscled and beautiful, and I want to trace my hand over every inch of him, especially when those muscles leap under my touch. But the ink swirling up his shoulder, across the left half of his chest, brings back a tiny portion of my brain power and has me questioning something beyond how it would feel to have his body over mine, driving intome.
“What are these?” I murmur, tracing the lines as he holds himself overme.
