Page 7 of His to Love

I struggled to break free from his hold when he did the dumbest thing. His lips pressed against the side of my neck. It shot a spark of fire straight inside of me, hitting the best places, and I froze.

“What are you doing?” I asked, hating the breathlessness in my voice. Darn him! Ugh!

“Just wondering if that was where your button still is.”

He stepped back, let go of my waist, and I steadied myself before I fell forward.

“What are you talking about?” I glared at him over my shoulder. Big mistake. Huge. He was too damn sexy for his own good.

God must hate me.

He smirked and pointed to the spot on my neck, right above my collarbone where his lips just brushed. “Your ‘on’ button…the one that made you go all wild for me.”

Yes. Yes…that button. It still worked if the pulsing at the apex of my thighs was any indicator. Although, it might have just been him, too.

I scowled. “Leave me alone.”

“Not until you talk to me.” His eyes narrowed and darkened. “Ten years, Blue. I deserve an answer.”

I looked back at the carousel and spied my seafoam green luggage. It was pretty, light-colored, and made traveling more fun. I took a step forward and reached for it when his hand covered mine. Before I could protest, Tyson grabbed the largest bag, yanking it up easily. I went slack-jawed, watching how even through his suit coat, I could see his biceps flex before he set it down.

I was too stunned stupid to thank him.

“That the only one you have?”

I shook my head. “One more.” I wanted to kick my own ass. Why was I engaging him? Letting him help me? Nothing good would come from this, I knew it. I didn’t even understand why he was bothering.

He turned his back to me, and we waited among the throng of tired travelers. He quickly grabbed his own two bags before he nestled my last two suitcases quite nicely next to his.

“Thank you,” I finally muttered, my manners returning while I reached to stack my cases. “It was good seeing you.”

Another lie.

My Catholic guilt was building every moment around him. Lust. Lies. Jealousy. My mother’s priest would have been so proud.

Without giving me time to argue or get away, Tyson reached for the handle of my largest suitcase. He had a duffel bag thrown across his chest, my suitcase in one hand, and his in another. He started walking away from me, out toward the line of taxis, and by the time I realized what he was doing, I had to run to catch up to him, pulling the rest of my bags behind me.

“What are you doing?” I asked when I reached him.

He let go of his suitcase and lifted his hand.

“Tyson!” I snapped.

His eyes darted to me before he looked back at the line of taxis coming our way. He didn’t even look at me like he recognized me, and I couldn’t quite place why that stung so much.

It took thirty seconds of him ignoring me, while I stood there gaping at him, before a taxi stopped in front of us. As soon as the trunk popped open, Tyson moved to the back of the car, and tossed my luggage inside.

“Where are you going, Blue?” he asked, an arrogant grin on his face as he passed me on the curb and grabbed his own suitcase.

“Not anywhere with you.” I crossed my arms over my chest and tapped my foot repeatedly on the pavement. Had he always been a bossy asshole? I couldn’t remember. Maybe I was too young to know any different.

“Get in the cab.”

My nose twitched, my foot tapped harder. “No.”

His lips curved at the ends right as the taxi driver asked, “Where to?”

Horns honked in the background, the sounds of annoyed drivers who were pissed we were not getting in the car. We were holding up the line, but I didn’t care.

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