Page 11 of Unbearable

I’m not really sure how to wrap my head around the fact that I’m lying here, in the soft bluish lit room, resting my head on the chest of the last person I ever dreamed I would be. Tyler Hemming.

As his lips kiss my bare shoulder, I ask, “Should we talk about what happened last night?”

“We don’t have to.” I find myself watching his lips when he speaks, remembering how they ghosted across my skin last night. It’s morning and the sun’s peeking in through his slate-gray curtains as we lay in his bed.

It’s weird being in Tyler’s room and it’s not lost on me the implications this could cause. He’s one, my brother’s best friend, and two, we’re above the shop that my brother now owns. I hope to hell he doesn’t come up here.

Given the pounding in my head, I’m not sure I want to remember every vivid detail of last night. And then again, I’m certain I do because there’s a spark of emotion in his eyes when I watch him that most would miss. I can’t tell you what it is but I know I put it there.

His gaze drops from mine when he rolls out of bed and pulls on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, motioning to the kitchen. “You hungry?”

Reaching for one of his shirts he has folded on the chair beside his bed, I nod and follow him after putting the shirt on. We sit in silence mostly, the occasional few words uttered as he makes me pancakes.

“Are you regretting it?” he finally asks, setting the pancakes in front of me. Tyler’s known me a long time so it makes sense that he can tell my mood is off.

“No, definitelynot.” I try to take even breaths. “I just… well, thanks for being there for me last night.”

Leaning back on the couch he’s sitting at now, he pulls up his shirt, revealing his chest. “I think you thanked me pretty well,” he teases, gesturing at the scratch marks from my nails on his chest. My mouth gapes open as I stare at him. “You could thank me again though. I’m all for that.”

My insides do an excited dip, like I’m thrilled with the possibility. “I don’t know….”

“I bet I could convince you,” he goads, his eyes twinkling with a boyish mischief.

He stands up from the couch and walks over to where I’m sitting at the table and takes the chair next to me.

“How so?”

He leans forward and pulls my face to his, smothering my words. This kiss is nothing like the ones I experienced last night. This one is full of intent, passion, and promise. I’m burning, dying, and wanting to spread my legs for him again. Damn, he’s good.

And then, just as I want more, he draws back, smiling. “Convinced?” Keeping his eyes on mine, he draws his bottom lip in slowly, letting it drag through his teeth.

“Maybe.” Maybe, my ass, but I have to recover some of my dignity after that soul scorching kiss!

He makes quick movements and has me back in the bedroom immediately. Within a minute, he’s filling me, his kisses and touches eagerly worshiping me in all the ways I need him to.

“Promise me you won’t regret asking me back here last night.” My fingernails digging into the skin of his back as he buries his face against my neck. I have to know. Normally I’m not much for small talk during sex.

His mouth is fierce and needy, kissing my neck, my shoulders, anywhere he finds bare skin. “Raven, I can guarantee you I have no regrets about bringing you home with me last night. Believe me when I say if I didn’t want you here last night, you wouldn’t have been here. Now shut up. I’m busy.”

My head snaps back against the headboard, his hips bucking forward. His lips mix with his hot breath fanning over me, killing me slowly, sweetly, before he fills me again and again. The force of his powerful hips drive me harder into the headboard.

His left hand clamps down on the headboard, his knuckles turning white with his grip. Seconds later, his head falls forward, resting against my forehead. “Jesus, Raven, you feel amazing.” His sweaty chest slides across my own, and the moan that leaves my lips shakes the both of us.

Both of us make frantic movements, moaning and grunting, and I fist the sheets between my fingers.

Riding out my high, adrenaline flows through my veins. I can already tell just being with him once, or even twice won’t be enough.

His legs tense, his stomach muscles flexing as he pulses into me. Steady, panting breaths capture my own broken breaths. Just as I’m staring at him, a grunt forces its way from his lips, and then a groan. “So good.”

When his body finally collapses on mine, I hear wood splinter from the headboard, and laugh. “Um… I think we broke your headboard.”

Rolling off me, he lays sideways so that he can drape his arm across my body, his eyes hesitantly meet mine, and then he shakes his head. “Fuck the headboard,” he says, panting against my neck, his heavy arm over my stomach. “I think you fucking broke me.”

Less than ten minutes later, I smile when he kisses my neck again and moves me so I’m on top of him. His eyes are hooded, and I know he wants more already. Raising his hands to cup my cheeks, he breathes in deep. “Round two?”

“You mean round three?”

He drops his face so his lips are at my ear. “That too.”

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