Page 8 of Unbearable

“So dirty.” I laugh, backing up one step, and he finally follows me.

SINCE I RODE to the bar with Rawley, I didn’t have to worry about leaving my car there. The drive back to his apartment only takes minutes, but it gives my drunk mind enough time to worry that he’s going to change his mind about wanting to be with me.

Fortunately, those worries are dispelled quickly by Tyler placing his hand on my thigh and slowly working his way up my thighs before we even get to the first stop light.

As soon as we manage to make it to his apartment above the shop, he has my back pressed against the door and his hands are under my shirt, palming my breasts and already pawing at my clothes.

Oh yeah, he wants it all right.

Just as quickly as his hands make their way to my breasts, they are gone and before I can voice my protest, he grabs my waist and twists me around so that my chest is up against his front door. Part of me thinks we need to take this inside but the truth is I really can’t focus on anything but how good he feels against me.

Damn, why couldn’t this door open on its own?

Drawing in a deep breath, I arch my ass against his hips. He answers me by slamming his hips into me and pushing me against the door, pressing firmly into the cool metal. One hand twists into my hair, tangling my locks around his fingers as he sweeps the hair aside. Hot wet lips take over, and his other hand grips my hip as he rubs his erection against my ass.

I made Tyler Hemming hard!

It’s the first time I’ve ever felt him like that and I know tonight will be anything but disappointing.

“I knew you were a hair puller,” I tell him, smiling.

He doesn’t say anything, only tugs harder.

Shuddering in anticipation, I remember he still hasn’t opened the damn door. Just as I attempt to back up so he can, he offers no room and instead pushes himself deeper, my face now pressed to the door.

I glance back at him and he smiles, heavily hooded eyes prying open. “We’d better get that fucking door open,orI’m fucking you against it. Your choice.”

I arch my brow at him, maybe challenging, maybe not. A wave of pleasure shudders through me when he shifts his stance, like he’s going to do it.

Letting go of me he reaches for his belt, unbuckling it, a wicked grin in place.

“You have the keys, Tyler. It’s your apartment.”

“Oh, right.”

There is a moment where neither one of us say anything. We stare at one another, waiting, because once that door opens, we both know where this leads. Reaching around me with his keys in his hand, he crushes me between the closed door and his body as he unlocks it, his lips on my shoulder. “Goddamn….”

Something in his urgency tells me maybe it’s been awhile for him. I know for certain it has for me, which may explain the butterflies in my stomach just anticipating what we’re about to do.

Bringing his hand up, his thumb traces over my bottom lip, his eyes dark and needy. His body shifts into mine as the door clicks open, his hips and chest touching me now.

Once inside his apartment, he picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, slamming us against the wall. We explode into a frenzy of kisses, neither one of us able to break apart for air, let alone stop kissing. His body shifts as if he can’t keep still. With a noise of impatience, he growls into my mouth, deepening the kiss again.

When he finally puts me down, we attempt to move toward the bedroom, but things get sidetracked when I start slowly stripping at the door.

Tyler obviously thinking I’m taking too long as he immediately goes to take off my shirt and actually rips it down the side, just trying to get it out of the way. He attempts to slow down, obviously trying to restrain himself, but fails miserably when he comes back with even more intensity.

I look at the shirt, laughing, even as his lips attack me with a desperation I understand.

With my hands on his shoulders, I try to catch his eyes. “Dude, you ripped my shirt….”

“Who fuckin’ cares?” he mumbles, going in for another kiss.

He’s right. I actually don’t care at all. I manage to push him back again, wiggling out of my jeans and tossing them aside. It’s getting hot in here and my clothes need to go.

His large hands are at my waist, guiding me inside the bedroom. From the look in his eyes and the way he touches me, I get the impression he understands how badly I need this.

As we stumble around, the back of my knees find the bed, and we fall back against the mattress. Every line of his body tenses, as if he’s trying to slow down but can’t.

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