"Thank Christ," he muttered.

"You didn't have to come," I reiterated when we were outside and in his black truck.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you. But next time I offer that, remind me of how I feel this very minute."

"And how's that?"

"Like I'd rather be put through a blender."

I laughed, shaking my head. I wasn't that bad. I thought three stores in two hours was pretty good. But all of the stores were filled with traditional or overly elegant furniture. I wanted something country. Chic. Simple lines with dashes of muted color to make my apartment feel warm and comfortable. I sighed and rested my head against the headrest as I realized why those things were so important to me.

"What is it?" Tyson asked, glancing at me before he pulled onto the freeway.

"I just realized that I've been trying to find furniture similar to what I used to have at my aunt's place."

"Miss her?"

"Yeah, although I don't think I realized how much until just now." My voice was wistful and a little sad. With all the work I'd been doing since I moved back home, I hadn't had time to really consider what I left behind. "I need to call her. She's probably worried about me."

Tyson turned to me again and arched a brow. "What will you tell her?"

"Everything," I said, closing my eyes. "I always tell Eleanor everything."

Something comforting pulsed between us, warming the air in the truck's cab. Turning my head, I opened my eyes and looked at Tyson. His eyes were warm and soft as he looked at me before he put them back on the road, navigating us down Main Street in Latham Hills.

"What?"

He shook his head, but he was grinning. "I was just wondering what you'd tell her about me."

A hint of doubt in his tone made his grin fade until I reached over and placed my hand on his.

"I'd tell her everything. Eleanor and I don't have secrets."

"Then what will you tell her about me?"

"That I found you again," I whispered, hesitating briefly as Tyson pulled into a parking spot. "And I never want to lose you."

The memory of Eleanor insisting I quit following Tyson's football career after his injury flashed through my mind. It wasn't that she didn't like him, she just saw how much it killed me every time I found a snippet of an article that mentioned his name. She saw how devastated I was when I realized his lifelong dream had just died. I had never felt more alone then. Had never missed him more. All I'd wanted to do was reach out and comfort him and tell him how sorry I was, but Eleanor-knowing what was best for me-talked me out of it.

My vulnerability was written plain on my face, and I jumped as his palm cupped the side of my cheek. He leaned forward, sliding his hand from my cheek to my neck and then tugged me to meet him. Our lips met in a slow, gentle kiss. Sparks of desire trickled through my body, and I moaned into his mouth.

"I don't want to lose you either," he said, his voice husky and deep. He pulled away and dipped his chin, resting his forehead on mine.

His fingers tightened on the back of my neck and I could feel him tense when he opened his mouth and snapped it close. I let him have his moment, my eyes looking at his closed lids.

Because a part of me wondered if he was not telling me the same thing I wasn't telling him.

I was in love with him all over again. Losing him would ruin me.

- "That was incredible," Tyson murmured.

I was draped all over him, and my heart pounded against our chests. My head was nestled into the curve of his shoulder and my lips continued pressing kisses along the column of his throat. His arms wrapped around me tightly as his hips arched into me slowly. He was still inside me after we'd just finished making love.

It wasn't just s.e.x that morning when I woke up and Tyson began trailing soft kisses down my ribcage and over my hips. It wasn't just s.e.x when he slowly slid inside of me and then rolled so I was straddling him. It wasn't s.e.x as our hips moved in a synced rhythm as if we'd been doing this for years.

It was making love.

It shined just as brightly in his dark blue eyes as I hoped it shined in my light blue ones.

I was still catching my breath, small tremors vibrating through my body as his hips continued to rock against me, teasing me and drawing out the aftershocks of an o.r.g.a.s.m that had left me crying out so hard I was thankful we didn't have the windows open. None of his neighbors needed to be awakened at six in the morning with that noise echoing through the neighborhood.

"I have to go get rid of the condom," he whispered, his lips brushing against my cheek.

I clung to him harder. "I like you here."

He chuckled, his laughter hitting my ears and making me quiver beneath him. "I like being here."

He pushed me off him slowly until he could slide out of me, and then he gently shifted me to the side of the bed next to him. I rolled over, following his movements toward the bathroom.

"I'm on the pill," I said once he returned after he finished cleaning himself up. "And I trust you."

He blinked twice and nodded. His tongue came out and licked his bottom lip, but he didn't seem as pleased as I thought he would.

More like hesitant.

Coldness p.r.i.c.kled at the back of my neck and I sat up, pulling the covers over my chest.

"I'm clean," he said and took a step toward me. Then, as if he needed to think twice about coming to me, he turned and went to his dresser and quickly pulled on a simple gray T-shirt and boxers. "I think it'd be best to keep using them, though."

My head jolted back in shock. Looking at his back, I saw his shoulders fall as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Why?" I asked, and I hated the pain laced in the simple word. It wasn't a big deal. We had just started seeing each other again. Maybe I was mistaken about the emotion I felt rolling off him earlier.

He was quiet for several moments and continued looking at the dresser in front of him before he turned around. When he did, my spine stiffened at the uncertainty clouding his features.

"I just think that with whatever is happening between us, we should take it slow."

"Whatever is happening between us," I murmured, repeating his words out loud.

G.o.d. How could I have been so far off the mark earlier? I must have just seen what I wanted to see.

"Blue?"

I looked down at the floor to where my shirt had been discarded last night. And to where his T-shirt that I wore to bed last night had been discarded this morning when he woke me up, wanting me.

Or just wanting s.e.x.

"It's fine," I muttered. I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and reached down, bypa.s.sing his clothes and grabbing my own.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," he said, and I could tell by his voice that he was walking toward me.

In my head, I understood what he was saying. There was no sense in not being extra careful. We were still getting to know each other again. All the rationale in the world didn't stop pain from lacing through my heart as I climbed out of his bed, though.

"I said it's fine," I muttered again and walked past him to the bathroom.

I closed the door as I heard him let out a curse.

Through the door, I heard his phone ring and he picked it up immediately, barking out, "Blackwell."

I ignored the sound of his raised voice filtering through the closed door. I couldn't make out his words, but his voice was tight and clearly p.i.s.sed. I just didn't know if he was mad at me or the person on the other end of the phone.

Resisting the urge to look too closely at my reflection in the mirror, I used the toilet and brushed my teeth. I didn't want to see the pathetically sad girl staring back at me while I got ready to get out of there. I needed to head back to the hotel, shower, and get ready for work since I hadn't brought anything over with me the night before.

And I certainly didn't want to waste any time lingering.

The door opened just as I was rinsing my mouth, slamming against the wall behind it. Tyson walked in, and headed straight toward me. I barely managed to turn the water off before he reached for my biceps and spun me around.

"I don't want to hurt you."

I blinked rapidly, looking just over his shoulder. "I said it's fine. I get it."

"I don't think you do." He loosened his grip on my arm and slid his hand down to mine, interlacing our fingers together and then putting them over the left side of his chest. His heart thumped lightly against my fingertips. "I want to take this slow enough to make sure we're not s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g it up again. That's all."

It made sense. Perhaps I was overreacting.

But there was something in the words he spoke, something quiet and pleading in his eyes that I didn't fully understand. Regardless, it was difficult to push him away.

"Okay," I whispered, dropping my gaze to our connected hands on his chest. "I didn't mean to freak out."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

My lips twitched slightly and I finally dragged my eyes off his body to his face, our gazes locking. "Did we just survive our first fight?"

"I'm not sure it was a fight, more like a minor disagreement."

"Hm. Pity." I pulled my hand from his grasp and dropped it from his chest. "I suppose that means we don't need make-up s.e.x, then."

I smiled at the look of shock on his face and ducked around him, quickly hurrying into his bedroom to get my clothes. Just as I was reaching down to grab them from the floor, two large hands gripped my waist, lifting me.

"Hey!" I shouted, lacking any venom in my voice.

I was tossed onto the bed and quickly flipped to my back. I was given just enough time to catch my breath before Tyson removed his shirt, dropped his boxers, and climbed on top of me.

Then he set about making me lose my breath all over again.

Chapter 15.

"We good?" Tyson asked. I was sitting in my car, and he was leaning toward me with his arms slung over the door and the top of the car.

My cheeks flushed, remembering how he made us good just a little while ago. I was going to be late for work if I didn't hurry back to my hotel to change my clothes.

Although, I no longer needed to shower.

"We're good." I gave him a wide and genuine smile and closed my eyes when he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine.

"I've got a busy few days coming," he muttered when he pulled back. "I'll try to call you later, though."

"The phone call you got earlier?"

He nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. He let it go, and gritted his teeth for a moment. "There's a case I'm working on that's been...difficult. But we got new information this week that should help wrap it up quickly. I just might not be able to see you until after."

"Good luck, then." I twisted the key in the ignition and tried not to frown. I really couldn't afford to be late.

"I'll take it. I can't wait for this thing to be over with." He kissed me again and stood up from his crouched position. "I'll call you later."

"Bye," I said just before he closed the car door. I waited for him to take a step back before I put the car in reverse. He waved goodbye and I did the same before I turned to look back over my shoulder to make sure there weren't cars heading my way. When I shifted the car into drive, I took one last glance at Tyson only to see him on his front step, hands clasped behind his neck. His face was scrunched up and his head was tilted toward the sky.

It was not the picture of a man who had just had two great o.r.g.a.s.ms and was falling in love, again, with his high school sweetheart. It was the picture of a man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders and had no idea what in the h.e.l.l he was going to do. It certainly didn't make my heart feel warm and fuzzy as I drove down the street. I hated that it was the last vision I had of him.

As I sped through Latham Hills, hit the freeway, and rushed to my hotel to get changed for work, I tried to push that vision of Tyson out of my mind and focus on the day ahead. I really wanted the permanent position at DPA and I couldn't afford to screw it up.

Fortunately, the rush hour traffic was light enough that I was able to get to my hotel with just enough time to spare to throw on a decent amount of makeup, fix my messy, wet hair into a decent looking knot at the nape of my neck, and get dressed in a simple black skirt, red silk shirt, and black heels. I still managed to make it into work after a stop at a drive-thru Starbucks with one minute to spare.

Breathless, I hurried to my desk and was just sinking into the seat in front of the cubicle wall that separated my desk from Simone's office when she came rushing out of her office.

"I need help," she said, almost as breathless as I was.

"With what?" I dropped my purse and stood up so I could reach for the paper in her hand.

"The flower delivery for Sat.u.r.day is short ten centerpieces. And not only that, we're also short two hundred winegla.s.ses. I have no idea what happened, but there are other fires burning. Can I trust you take care of this? I can't screw up on this party."

"I'll take care of it." How...I had no clue, but she needed my a.s.surances, not my doubts.

"These are my distributors," Simone said, her eyes lined with worry. "I had everything delivered early to make sure Sat.u.r.day night will go off without a hitch. I get more business from this event than I do all year long. It's important this is perfect."

I had been to my parents' hosted events. Even as a teenager, I understood the importance of them. It was the one time a year my father stepped out of his underworld dealings and looked as if he was a respected member of society. Everyone who was anyone would be there, from politicians to professional athletes to the most lucrative businessmen in the Detroit area.

Forcing a confident smile onto my face, I met Simone's gaze and hoped like h.e.l.l she couldn't see me visibly shaking with worry at s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g this up. "I understand, Simone. I promise you, I'll fix it."

"Okay." She sighed heavily. She must have believed me. Thank goodness. "Let me know when you have it sorted. I've got more calls to make."

"Will do." I sat back in my chair, stared at the invoice in front of me along with an order form that clearly showed the incorrect amount being ordered in the first place, and then booted up my computer to find the original spreadsheet for the benefit. Simone had walked me through everything before and I had spent so much time checking and double-checking facts, it didn't take me long to figure out where the mistake was made, and unfortunately, it was not on the supplier's end.