His To Love Part 29

"It would have helped to have heard that before."

"While I was still lying to you?" he pressed. "Would you have believed me then?"

"You're a.s.suming I believe you at all," I snapped, glaring at him.

He pushed off the dresser and stalked toward me, not stopping until he reached my bed and sat down on the edge.

I wanted him gone.

I wanted to pull him down to me and see if his full lips were as soft as I remembered. As if he knew what I was thinking, his tongue slid out and licked his bottom lip.

"Blue, I can't begin to describe how difficult this was for me." He leaned forward as I tried to scramble away, but he held me in place with one hand on each side of my hips. I looked away from him even as a blush hit my cheeks. He was too close and smelled too good. Even beneath his white dress s.h.i.+rt, I could see the muscles of his biceps flex.

"Do you think I care right now how difficult it was for you?" I asked, feeling my emotions begin to bubble. "I was nothing but a p.a.w.n, and you took away my family."

"I helped incarcerate a man who belonged in jail." A muscle ticked in his jaw, showing his tension. I looked past it.

"And do you feel your own father's death has been avenged now that you finally put mine away?"

He dipped his chin, locking his eyes on mine. "Yes. In part. I'm not going to lie about that."

"How n.o.ble of you." I pushed on his arms, needing to get away from him. "Let me go. I'm not discussing this while we're in my bed."

With one quick move, he had my wrists clamped together and he pushed me backward on the bed, my head flopping on my pillow. He s.h.i.+fted when my hips thrust against him and pinned me down by straddling my thighs with his.

"Look at me," he practically growled. I pulled my eyes to his, his face inches from mine. If I leaned forward the smallest amount, I could have had his lips on mine. I shouldn't want it so badly when I was so mad at him, yet I couldn't deny my reaction to him, either.

I hated it and loved it in equal measure.

"What?" I snapped.

"You stopped being a job to me the moment I saw your picture."

"What picture?"

"My supervising agent showed me a picture when they pulled me in to the job," he said and dropped his head. I s.h.i.+vered beneath him as his nose slid against mine and across my cheek. "I need you to believe this. What we have, what we started growing together wasn't false, and if you think back to the time we spent together, you'll know it. You were caught in the middle, I know. Yes, I was sent here from DC to look into you and your family. The FBI heard you'd been called home and they wanted to know why, because a three-year investigation on your father's business was tightening and coming to a close. When they learned that you were returning home, they thought you were going to be part of it. There were a few small missing pieces of a puzzle they were trying to put together and they figured you were the answer, somehow. We didn't know your mom was sick. So, yes, they put me in place to get that information from you. But I need you to think back to all the time we spent together, the things we talked about, the things we did..." He paused and dropped his hips against mine. I could feel him, every inch. We were thigh to thigh, chest to chest, and even though there were blankets, bedding, and clothes between us, I still had to fight my reaction to him.

My hands went lax in his hold.

"You're the only woman I want," he murmured, his lips brus.h.i.+ng against my ear. Gooseb.u.mps p.r.i.c.kled on my skin. "You're the only woman I've ever loved. I just didn't want to tell you that with my job and your family between us."

I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent, soaking in his touch. I was losing my fight against him.

"I hate you," I whispered, even as my hips pressed into his. "I hate that I love you. I hate that you used me. I hate that when I needed you to be there for me when my mom was buried, I had just learned that you betrayed me."

"I know." His forehead dropped to mine as a ripple of pleasure rolled through me. "And I hate that I couldn't be there for you. I wanted to hold you, to comfort you. I wanted to show you how much I love you."

Love.

I didn't know if I could trust him.

So I told him that and he flinched, pulling back from me until he sat up. Swinging a leg off of mine, he pulled me with him until we were both sitting and facing each other.

"I'll have to work to earn your trust back, I know this. I just want the chance." He leaned forward, his hand curled around my neck and then moved to the back of my head, cupping it in his large palm. His gaze softened, roaming my face. "I can't stop touching you."

I didn't want him to.

"Tyson." I breathed out his name on a sigh.

"You feel this. I know you do."

The connection between us was electric. Undeniable. I was fooling myself if I thought I could stay away from him.

Still, with a self-control I didn't know I possessed until that moment, I tugged away from his grip.

"I've loved you since I was just a teenager," I said. I couldn't help myself. I reached out and brushed a finger along his jawline, feeling the light scruff on his unshaven cheeks. I smiled, but it was sad and tears clouded my vision. "I don't know if I can forgive you for this, or if I can understand all that you've done."

"Blue." His voice was pained, his expression anguished as he called my name.

I dropped my hand and shook my head. Sliding out from beneath the covers, I stood in front of him. He reached for me, but I stepped out of his reach.

"I'll try though," I finally admitted when the silence in the room became heavy and weighted.

His eyes snapped to mine and something sparked in them.

"You will?"

He stood and took another step toward me.

I moved back again.

I wanted to trust him. I wanted him to earn it, but if he touched me, I'd fall into his arms and his touch and his kisses, and I wanted to be smart, too. "I will. But not now. I have to get ready for work, and I need more time to think about this."

He reached for me again, this time moving too quickly for me. His arm wrapped around my lower back, and he pulled me closer until I collapsed against him. My hands flew up to brace myself against his chest.

"Tyson." It was a tortured whisper, filled with despair. "I need to get ready for work."

"And I'll let you, as soon as you do something for me."

"What?"

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he lowered his head to mine and at the same time he tilted it. One of his hands slid up my side until he cupped my cheek. Then his lips met mine.

He kissed me like I was meant for him. Like I was the only woman he ever wanted to kiss. His lips teased mine and he nipped at my lower lip, eliciting sensations from me that had been gone for too long without his touch. I melted into him, forgetting all the difficulties we still faced, all the pain I still bore in my heart because of him.

He growled low before he pulled back and set me away from him with his hands on my shoulders. "I want to see you tonight. Explain everything I can."

"Okay." I nodded, my fingertips rising to brush against my lips. I could still taste him. Mint and coffee.

It was my new favorite flavor.

"I'll let you get ready for work, then."

He took a step away. I longed to reach out to him, to pull him back to me. To finish what he'd just started. My emotions rioted inside of me. Physical need burst, needing his touch, needing him. But I held back. I still had questions, and I still deserved answers.

"Tyson," I called, when he was almost at the door to my bedroom. His eyes flickered with concern before he grinned.

"Yes?"

"I want my key back."

He smirked and shook his head. "Not on your life."

He turned and was gone. A laugh barreled out of me as I shook my head and turned toward my bathroom.

"See you tonight, Blue! Six o'clock!"

I didn't have time to answer before I heard my front door open and then close behind him.

And as I walked to the bathroom, I was still smiling, still thinking of him, but most of all...

I was still wanting him.

- My jaw dropped as soon as I entered my apartment. The lights were off but I could still see clearly. On every available surface, candlelight swayed from cream candles, casting a romantic glow all over my living room.

"Tyson?" I called out when I was met with complete silence.

He appeared in the kitchen doorway, in jeans slung low on his hips and a simple T-s.h.i.+rt that stretched over him perfectly.

My mouth practically drooled in antic.i.p.ation.

"What is this?" I asked, dropping my purse on a table, careful to avoid the candle flame. I kicked off my heels and walked toward him.

"How was your day?" he asked, avoiding my own question.

"Good." I grinned, recalling my day. "The best, actually."

One side of his lips kicked up at the outer edge. "Want to tell me about it?"

I glanced around my apartment that he had completely taken over. The smells of something cooking in the kitchen almost stole my attention before I looked back at him. "I thought we agreed on six o'clock."

It was only five. I snuck out a few minutes early so I could have plenty of time to get ready for wherever Tyson was planning on taking me.

"We did. I wanted to get here early and get everything ready."

"This?" I waved a hand in the air. "What is this?"

He pushed off the doorframe and headed toward me, not stopping until he was just a foot away. I had to tilt my head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "We still have things to talk about," he said. "I thought it'd be best done in private."

"And breaking into my apartment was the only way?"

He shrugged, unashamed. "It seemed the easiest way."

"And you cooked?"

He laughed quietly and held out his hand. "No. I had my grandma make dinner, I'm just reheating it." I placed my hand in his and followed him into my own kitchen, not unaware of the fact that he seemed just as familiar in my s.p.a.ce as he did in his own. "I brought the wine and Grandma made some lasagna. It should be done soon if you want a gla.s.s of wine while we wait."

I wanted a bottle. I figured I'd need it. My mind overflowed with questions and thoughts.

"A gla.s.s would be nice," I said instead.

I took a seat on one of my barstools while Tyson headed to the fridge, saying as he opened the door, "So tell me about your day. What made it so good?"

I debated for a moment before answering. I wanted to get right to the questions I had, but I liked the feel of this. Tyson waiting for me when I got home, him serving me, him wanting to be with me.

I wanted this to play out for as long as possible.

"Simone promoted me to a.s.sociate Planner yesterday."

He arched a brow and looked at me while he uncorked the wine. "That the reason for the celebrating last night?"

"Part of it." I shrugged. "The rest was trying to drown my sorrows."

Sadness flickered in his gaze and the air stalled between us before he popped the cork and poured a gla.s.s of pinot grigio. He slid me a gla.s.s and I took it, thankful for the distraction.

"Should we talk now or after dinner?" he asked, placing his palms on the counter. He was braced like he was ready for an argument.

My earlier decision to let this fantasy play out changed.

"It's probably better to talk."

"Right." He nodded and turned toward the oven, flicking a switch at the back. "Let's go to the living room."

He gestured for me to go first and I waited as he reached back into the fridge and pulled out a beer for himself. A sarcastic comment about him helping himself in my own home was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back.

"I joined the FBI soon after college," he said, stating it plainly as soon as he sat down. "I can't lie and say that after my football injury I knew what I was going to do with my life because I struggled for a long time. But I could never stop thinking about my father's death and the men who caused it." He paused for a moment, arched a brow, and waited for me to respond.

I had nothing to say. All loyalty to my own father had evaporated when I learned he had been selling girls to line his pockets.

When I stayed silent, he continued. "My mom took my father's death hard and she's never fully recovered. I was away at college, rarely coming home, and she was in the house I grew up in with only her memories. Eventually, after she moved to Florida, she started coming back to herself, but I'm going to be honest and say the rage I still felt simmered inside me for a long time. Perhaps it always will."

"I get all that, Tyson," I said softly. "I'm not going to sit here and say I don't understand why you took a job with the FBI, or why you even wanted to go after my father. What hurts is that you lied to me and that I trusted you." I blinked and took a large gulp of my wine. "All those days you talked about your work, all the times you stopped us from going too far at the beginning...everything makes sense now."

"Then you know I tried to wait. That I didn't want this s.h.i.+t between us, but d.a.m.n it, Blue. It's you and it's me, we're inevitable."

He was right. I not only knew it, I had spent all day deciding I no longer wanted to stay away from him.

"What happened?"