no.
***
WHAT the hell was going through his head? Tyler winced. He knew the answer to that question, and it wasn’t G-rated. Damn it, Delaney flipped his switch in a way it hadn’t been turned on in forever. Why was it that one reluctant kiss from her had been better than any blow job he’d gotten from Alyssa’s girls? It was more than the addicting flavor of her kiss, more than the feel of her pussy against his denim-covered cock, getting hotter with each second.
As he watched Del’s sweet little ass sway down the hall while she sprinted back to safety, he started asking himself some hard questions. Why had he kissed a woman who’d said “no”? For the same reason her quick little breaths and hungry eyes got to him. He wanted her—bad. Beyond sense. Beyond scruples. After he’d gotten over the initial shock of seeing her at his door and knowing that he’d fathered a son on her, desire had settled in, vicious and unrelenting.
Why?
He didn’t want to delve too hard for the answer.
His dick couldn’t seem to think past the fact that he’d pinned her against his bedroom door and felt every inch of her soft body against him, her shy little tongue touching his before retreating, her pert nipples hardening against his chest. And Jesus, those little gasps and whimpers? He groaned and swiped a hand across his face.
If this had been strictly about desire, he’d be okay. He’d rip his jeans off, take himself in hand, and settle matters quick. He’d done it many times in his life. But right now, his own hand wasn’t going to do a damn thing to cool the throbbing settling deep in his cock. It wanted to fuck. Hard. Now. Until he was exhausted. And no one except Delaney would do.
Wasn’t that a bitch?
With a sigh, Tyler sat on the edge of his bed. It wasn’t wanting her that agitated him. Desire was easy. What he felt for her was far more complex.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, Tyler adjusted his hard dick in his jeans, willing his erection to subside. The last thing he wanted was a verbal ribbing from Deke.
Finally under some control, he stalked back to the den, TV blaring a Dallas Mavericks game. Feeling itchy, edgy, he plopped down on the dark leather sofa next to Deke.
“I saw Delaney race back to her room like her ass was on fire. I take it you kindled that?”
Was this his way of meddling? “Shut the fuck up.”
Deke barked out a superior laugh. “You got it bad, you poor bastard. And she’s trying hard to hate your guts right now.”
Tell me something I don’t know
. Tyler gave his buddy the finger.
It only made Deke laugh again. Then he slowly sobered and glanced at his cell phone. “I need to keep Kimber in the loop. How long do you think it’s going to take Delaney to run?”
“A couple of hours. She’s going to wait until she thinks I’m good and asleep before she makes a move.”
“Likely so.”
“I should pretend to hit the sack.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll crash on the couch. She’ll have no idea I’m here. But . . . can we wait just a few minutes? This game is getting good.”
“Yeah?” Tyler tried to get interested. Instead, he stared sightlessly at the TV, everything swimming before his eyes as he remembered another hot May evening . . .
Chapter Four
Los Angeles—two years earlier
“W HY’D you knock? It’ll take me two weeks to answer the door. I unlocked it a few minutes ago. Just come in.”
At the sound of his friend’s voice, Tyler entered the house with his key. Eric sat in his wheelchair as he had every day for the last three months, since the fucking suspect Tyler had been chasing sneaked up on Eric and capped a cheap shot in his back, grazing his spine and paralyzing him from the waist down. The doctors hoped the injury was temporary. But maybe not. The good news was, for the first time in forever, Eric looked clean, healthy, freshly shaved. Almost happy, given the grin stretching across his face.
“I’m here with beer, as
***
WHAT the hell was going through his head? Tyler winced. He knew the answer to that question, and it wasn’t G-rated. Damn it, Delaney flipped his switch in a way it hadn’t been turned on in forever. Why was it that one reluctant kiss from her had been better than any blow job he’d gotten from Alyssa’s girls? It was more than the addicting flavor of her kiss, more than the feel of her pussy against his denim-covered cock, getting hotter with each second.
As he watched Del’s sweet little ass sway down the hall while she sprinted back to safety, he started asking himself some hard questions. Why had he kissed a woman who’d said “no”? For the same reason her quick little breaths and hungry eyes got to him. He wanted her—bad. Beyond sense. Beyond scruples. After he’d gotten over the initial shock of seeing her at his door and knowing that he’d fathered a son on her, desire had settled in, vicious and unrelenting.
Why?
He didn’t want to delve too hard for the answer.
His dick couldn’t seem to think past the fact that he’d pinned her against his bedroom door and felt every inch of her soft body against him, her shy little tongue touching his before retreating, her pert nipples hardening against his chest. And Jesus, those little gasps and whimpers? He groaned and swiped a hand across his face.
If this had been strictly about desire, he’d be okay. He’d rip his jeans off, take himself in hand, and settle matters quick. He’d done it many times in his life. But right now, his own hand wasn’t going to do a damn thing to cool the throbbing settling deep in his cock. It wanted to fuck. Hard. Now. Until he was exhausted. And no one except Delaney would do.
Wasn’t that a bitch?
With a sigh, Tyler sat on the edge of his bed. It wasn’t wanting her that agitated him. Desire was easy. What he felt for her was far more complex.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, Tyler adjusted his hard dick in his jeans, willing his erection to subside. The last thing he wanted was a verbal ribbing from Deke.
Finally under some control, he stalked back to the den, TV blaring a Dallas Mavericks game. Feeling itchy, edgy, he plopped down on the dark leather sofa next to Deke.
“I saw Delaney race back to her room like her ass was on fire. I take it you kindled that?”
Was this his way of meddling? “Shut the fuck up.”
Deke barked out a superior laugh. “You got it bad, you poor bastard. And she’s trying hard to hate your guts right now.”
Tell me something I don’t know
. Tyler gave his buddy the finger.
It only made Deke laugh again. Then he slowly sobered and glanced at his cell phone. “I need to keep Kimber in the loop. How long do you think it’s going to take Delaney to run?”
“A couple of hours. She’s going to wait until she thinks I’m good and asleep before she makes a move.”
“Likely so.”
“I should pretend to hit the sack.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll crash on the couch. She’ll have no idea I’m here. But . . . can we wait just a few minutes? This game is getting good.”
“Yeah?” Tyler tried to get interested. Instead, he stared sightlessly at the TV, everything swimming before his eyes as he remembered another hot May evening . . .
Chapter Four
Los Angeles—two years earlier
“W HY’D you knock? It’ll take me two weeks to answer the door. I unlocked it a few minutes ago. Just come in.”
At the sound of his friend’s voice, Tyler entered the house with his key. Eric sat in his wheelchair as he had every day for the last three months, since the fucking suspect Tyler had been chasing sneaked up on Eric and capped a cheap shot in his back, grazing his spine and paralyzing him from the waist down. The doctors hoped the injury was temporary. But maybe not. The good news was, for the first time in forever, Eric looked clean, healthy, freshly shaved. Almost happy, given the grin stretching across his face.
“I’m here with beer, as
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