Page 5 of Top Shelf

“Sade, are you…”

“Tyson, don’t ask me that. Just…show me.”

He waits one more beat, and then he slides off the glider and onto his feet. He pulls me up onto mine, then bends down to pick me up. He kisses me again as he carries me inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

He walks down the hallway toward the large master suite, opening the door and effortlessly holding me with one arm as he does. He lays me on top of the bed and undoes his tie, unbuttoning his shirt as he stares down at me like a lion watching his prey’s every move.

Once he’s shirtless, he walks over to me. He reaches for my shirt, but as he takes a hold of it, he stares down at it, freezing in his tracks.

“I want this off of you,” he growls, “and I don’t ever want to see it again. You’re no one’s bride…”—he pauses, his eyes lifting to mine—“unless I’m the groom.”

Holyfuck. As turned on as I am right now, he still gives me butterflies.

I sit up, holding my arms above my head, and he practically rips it off, throwing it across the room to the floor.

His eyes run up and down my body, and I reach around, unclasping my bra. I suck in a sharp breath and blow it out as it slinks down off my arms.

Tyson Calway is about to see my boobs.

Here goes nothing.

As it falls, I watch as his tongue juts out to wet his lips.

CHAPTERTHREE

tyson

This is it.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for since I was fifteen, when I saw her for the first time. She walked in to AP Biology, and I felt like I’d been hit in the gut.

Or the dick.

Something.

I just know that my whole being awakened the second Sadie Blackwell walked in that room. And it’s been awake ever since.

Every time I thought it might be my moment with her, someone else came along. Brett Diehl, soccer captain. Cameron Scott, the running back.

And each time, I was the one she came running to. I was the one who listened, wondering how someone could be so fucking dense as to have her and fumble it—no pun intended.

But then we went away to college. Different ones.

And then she met Dallas.

The thought of it, the last five years of agony I’ve gone through, listening to her talk about him, shaking his hand, smiling at his jokes in forced awkward social scenarios…all for the sake of being near her.

I shake my head.

It’s my time now.

The bra slides down off her arms, and then I’m staring at my beautiful best friend—the goddamn love of my life—almost completely naked.

And suddenly, I can’t handle it anymore.

I need all of her.

And I will not share.

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