Page 36 of CurVy Forever

Tyler won’t like this…

Clearing my throat, I lift Ty’s heavy arm from over my shoulder and slide out, saying, “I think I might have to go to the bathroom, it might be that time now.”

I still haven’t got my period, but the infrequent cramps haven’t let up. It’s odd, but I did have my implant cut out unexpectedly, so my body is just in shock.

I go to leave Tyler with that lie, but then the weight of all the other’s I’ve told him glue me in place; he’s not a child.

I twist back and gaze at him. “Ty? Actually, I think someone should see if Dexter is okay. It’s the third day of his trial, baby. And you know— You know he didn’t hurt that girl.”

His eyes coast across my face. “You believe us now?”

“Yes.” His story is too real. “I do.”

A look of suspicion settles into his gaze. “Don’t get too comfortable with him, baby. I don’t want him to disappoint you. He might promise things now, but he’ll end up hurting you. I’ll hate that. I’ll hate him even more for upsetting you.” He shrugs. “He said he’s going to sort it out, anyway. Said he didn’t need us. Remember? He’ll get the right people on it.”

“I hope he has sorted it out.” I lean in and kiss Tyler on the cheek, freshly shaven skin meeting my lips and aftershave greeting my senses.

He grabs my arm to stop me from leaving, drawing my attention back to him and the deep concern in his expression.

I place my hand on top of his, touching the raised skin and grooves, sending him a message. They aren’t becoming him. He can be reasonable.

“I’ll be quick, baby.”

Without a second glance, I stand, my hand slipping from his, and walk in the direction Dexter went. I feel good about being honest with Ty now.

I find myself in the kitchen, watching Dexter open the fridge and stand in the opening, just staring at the contents.

He has a navy suit on, and the fabric is flawless and expertly tailored to the contours of his powerful physique.

“I’d usually grab a beer,” he announces coldly, sensing me or having heard my footsteps approach.

“How was the trial?”

He closes the fridge, frustrated, and turns to stare at me. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, his collar open at the top few buttons, offering a peek at chest hairs.

“We’re not doing this, Vallie. I told you so you wouldn’t hate me. I can’t spar with you tonight. I’m too tired.”

Deflated by his tone, I just nod. Does he really want me to leave? Or is this a defence mechanism?

I move to the kitchen island, a stunning stone top with vivid gold marbling. As he reaches for the bridge of his nose, rubbing tension away by massaging his eyes, I slide up to sit opposite him.

He lowers his hand, eyes meeting mine. “Vallie.”

“Yes.” I don’t move, overwhelmed by the need pouring from him in potent waves. “Do you want to talk about it? I’ll behave. No sparring.”

He sighs, a rough sound. “I’ve done time before.”

I slowly nod. “Okay.”

“Many times.”

“You don’t have to this time. You could tell the truth and try to get a suspended sentence.”

“No.” He pushes off from the kitchen countertop and walks towards me, stopping close. Too close. His sharp gaze roams my body, assessing the stretched fabric around my breasts before moving lower to where my thighs press together below the lower seam.

My breath catches as he is now close enough to touch, and smell, and feel. All of his energy. His eyes pierce holes wherever they slide. “I won’t do that to her, Vallie. I won’t take her from her mother,” he finally says.

Is this about Tyler? About not having parents? “You said the little girl was humming…” I reach to understand him better. “She isn’t Tyler, Dexter. The situation is different.”

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