With my beer in my hand, I let Tyson flip through the channels until he came across a Tigers' game and he set the remote down.

"Thought we were going to watch a movie."

"Movies suck, and there's a game on."

I took a quick drink from my beer, hiding my smile. "Of course. Because the Tigers could lose if you don't cheer for them when you're not there in person. They can tell, you know."

He took his beer, tapped our tops together, and put it to his lips. I could hear the smile in his voice. "Seems you do remember the important things."

So we sat like that for the next couple of hours, long after night had fallen and my eyes grew heavy, but I was enjoying this too much. This quiet peace between us where it felt like we'd gotten our past on the table, then silently decided to let it go and move on.

The question though, was move on to what?

It felt incredible to be around him again, like a part of me that had been missing had now been found. He helped me forget about the stuff with my mom. I hadn't once thought about the request from my parents earlier today. The man next to me consumed my thoughts as his thumb trailed slow, gentle circles along my shoulder, on and off for the last hour. We barely spoke, except during commercials, because I definitely remembered that one did not speak during a Tigers game. That teasing circling on my shoulder sent shocks of desire to everywhere else in my body. And even though I was fighting to stay awake, I didn't want Tyson to leave. I didn't want him to head to wherever he was going to go when he left here, without getting another taste of him.

I wanted to feel him.

Turning, I shifted into him so my hand wrapped around his waist and I looked up. His hand on my shoulder tightened and his head dipped. We looked into each other's eyes, and with each pa.s.sing moment, electricity sparked and zapped in the s.p.a.ce between us.

He still looked conflicted.

I was past caring. My hand tightened on his stomach, slowly drifted higher to brush over his hard chest, and I watched his pulse increase at the base of his throat.

"Blue," he said. It was a warning or a plea. I didn't know, and I didn't care.

Curling my legs beneath me, I sat up so I was on my knees and leaned forward. "Kiss me, Tyson," I said.

He swallowed thickly, making me think he was going to push me away, when one of his hands dropped to my waist and the other slid to the back of my neck just like before. Then he tugged me forward until I was almost draped over his lap. He shifted, and my thighs spread to the outside of his until I was straddling him.

My hands went to his cheeks.

His hands pulled me forward.

Then his lips fell to mine, and he stole my breath the moment he touched me. There was no slow, pa.s.sionate buildup; there was only fire and heat and intensity that I couldn't ever remember feeling before.

I pressed my chest against his and ran my hands down his neck to his shoulders. I held on while he devoured me, tasting every place he could find inside my mouth, holding me firmly against him so I couldn't move away.

Not that I wanted to.

I was exactly where I wanted to be.

My hips shifted, and I moaned into his mouth. He was hard beneath me. A bulge so thick it was noticeable through his denim and the lightweight cotton of my yoga pants. I didn't even care that I wasn't dressed s.e.xily. That my hair was in a disheveled ponytail that only got worse as Tyson's fingers dug into my scalp. As if he possessed mind reading capabilities, his fingers moved higher until he pulled the holder out of my hair and black strands fell to my cheeks, framing my face, and blocking out anything besides Tyson.

"Holy s.h.i.t," he murmured. His hips pressed into me, mine pressed down, and we rocked together, moving against each other while our hands explored each other's bodies through our clothes. But I know he could feel every touch of my hands on him like I was touching his bare skin because that was how my body responded to his touch.

It was instantaneous.

It was amazing.

And I still craved more.

Needed more.

"Tyson," I whimpered. Just his name. A needy plea for more. My hands dropped to his waist, and I began tugging his shirt out from his jeans. My fingers trembled as I began undoing the b.u.t.tons. His hands reached for the hem of my shirt and then he lifted. I paused my own pursuit of feeling the heat of his skin against mine only to lift my arms. The T-shirt went up and off and was thrown somewhere behind me. My fingers finished on his shirt and I pushed it open, revealing his chiseled chest and sculpted abs. And as my fingers first brushed against his skin, my fingertips felt singed from the heat rolling off him. He dropped his head to the back of the couch and sighed. His hands stilled at my ribcage as he continued rocking me against him. I watched the movement while my hands pushed his shirt off his shoulders, down his arms until I couldn't move it anymore.

"We should stop," Tyson said suddenly, reluctance thick in his voice. His hands pushed down on my hips, holding me against him so I couldn't move. But I needed relief. I was so close.

I shook my head.

"Slow down a bit. There's no hurry, Blue."

He was probably right.

"I know."

We both paused, our harsh breath mingled together in the small s.p.a.ce between our lips. Our gazes stayed fixed, and I waited for Tyson to take his hands off my skin. Waited for him to push me away and apologize, or something.

None of that happened.

Instead, his eyes dropped to my chest and a low groan escaped his lips. His hands slid up and then over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I shifted into him, not taking my eyes off him. His eyes went hazy, and I whimpered when his hand brushed over my satin bra. Then his thumb tugged it down, revealing one breast and then the other.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his gaze moving to my eyes.

I smiled shyly, feeling slightly vulnerable, bared before him when he was the one who wanted to stop. He didn't want to now, though, and I wouldn't stop him from doing whatever he wanted to me.

I was still on edge. The area between my thighs still pulsed with need.

His thumb grazed my nipple and I gasped, my chest arching into his hands.

It was my non-silent approval, and apparently, all he needed to see and hear before his lips were back on mine and his hands were all over me. We touched each other, swallowed each other's cries and pleasured gasps, and my hips began to shamelessly rock against his erection again.

There was no turning back now.

I was fighting to undo his buckle when one of his hands left my breast and clamped down over my own.

"No." He shook his head, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. "Not tonight."

"But." I stopped and swallowed thickly. His hand on mine moved until his finger traced the edges of my black pants. My stomach shivered and it sent bursts of flames to my core.

"I just want to touch you tonight."

"What if I want to touch you?" I asked, and he flashed me a grin. Not amused, more that he was hiding a promise behind his smile.

"The next time I touch you, the first time I'm inside you, there will be nothing between us."

I frowned. I was on the pill. We didn't have to have anything between us now. Before I could explain, his mouth covered mine, and he made me his even if he didn't know it.

I knew in that moment, as his finger dipped below my waistband, seeking its target, I had already given him my heart all over again, even though I was terrified it would only end up shattered all over again.

I was powerless to stop it. Rational thought fled as soon as Tyson touched me.

His fingers found my center and I gasped into his mouth, pressing into him as he brushed my c.l.i.t, slid through my wetness, and then inside me. My body pulsed and quivered into his arm at my back, and he swallowed my cries as my o.r.g.a.s.m began rising. It rolled and crested until the waves grew higher and higher, closer together. It clawed at me, starting at my toes, spread up my legs until my thighs shook and trembled...and then everything shattered. I cried his name out loud, pulling apart from Tyson's lips as my climax overwhelmed me.

My head fell to his shoulder as his ministrations slowed and he slipped his fingers from inside me. Both of his hands wrapped around my lower back, and one hand slid up until he cupped my shoulder. He held me to him while I trembled from aftershocks and I reveled in the quick beating of our hearts against our chests.

"Beautiful," he whispered into my ear. "You've always been so beautiful."

A puff of breath escaped my lips. I nuzzled closer to him.

"Please stay," I said hesitantly. My hands wrapped around his back. "Stay the night with me."

Chapter 7.

There wasn't a brick wall at my back when I woke up the next morning. Instead, I was somehow lying on it. As I opened my eyes, the first thing I realized was that my head was resting on Tyson's shoulder and my arm was draped across his stomach, my hand low on his hip.

My leg was thrown over one of his. I was practically lying directly on top of the man, and based on the way his arm was curved around my back, resting on my waist, the sleeping man beneath me didn't seem to mind.

Not if the hardness pressed against my thigh was any indication.

As soon as I felt it, every muscle in my body tensed. With nerves or antic.i.p.ation, I didn't know, because I wasn't given the chance to find out. Tyson's hand on my waist tightened, and he flipped and rolled us and I quickly found myself on my back.

Beneath him.

My jaw dropped as he hovered over me keeping some of his weight off me by bracing his forearm next to the side of my head while his other arm still wrapped around my back.

"Good morning," he mumbled right before he dipped his head and his lips took mine.

And it was so good, I didn't think about morning breath, bed head, or leftover makeup smeared beneath my eyes before his tongue dipped into my mouth, swirled with mine, and he let loose a low groan that hit the deepest parts of me. My hands moved to his hips, holding him to me, and my knees widened until I could feel his hardness press against me.

Perfect.

"Good morning," I whispered when he pulled back and began trailing his lips across my jaw. My fingers gripped his waist and then slowly began running up his back, feeling all of his muscles flex and bunch. His warm breath skated across my skin, eliciting a delicious shiver that danced down my spine. I shifted into him, my fingernails dug into his shoulders, and just as Tyson began pushing up the tank top I had on to reach my skin, his phone rang.

"Ignore it," I muttered against his mouth. My voice was breathy, panting.

His was just as erratic when he groaned into my neck. "I can't. s.h.i.t."

With another kiss to my throat, he slowly let me go, and rolled off me until he was sitting up at the far edge of the bed. I rolled over to face him and watched him dig his cellphone out of his back jeans pocket.

"Blackwell," he said and glanced over his shoulder at me. Whatever softness had been in his eyes when he was on top of me evaporated and his face and voice grew tight. "It's Sunday."

I took my cue from the sudden coolness in his expression, rolled to my side of the bed, and rushed to the bathroom. My cheeks were flushed, my pupils dilated, and thank goodness I didn't have time to think about morning breath, or bed head, or smeared mascara earlier, because as I took stock of myself while I reached for my toothbrush, I learned I had all of the above.

I looked like a hungover racc.o.o.n and cringed at my reflection.

But Tyson didn't seem to mind, so I thought about that while I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and used the toilet. Then I snagged the robe hanging on the bathroom door on my way out and paused when I saw Tyson sitting in almost the exact same position he was in when I left the room. Legs spread wide on the edge of the bed, one elbow to his knee, his forehead in his palm and the other hand still held the phone. In order to avoid interrupting him, I quietly moved toward the living room and barely caught what he was saying into the receiver.

"I'm working on it...well, I tried to warn you...Yes, I told you, it'll be fine."

Due to the nature of my father's business, I understood that all sorts of things happened at all hours of the day and that phone calls that didn't involve me, or any conversations for that matter, were best left alone. So I stopped listening, closed the bedroom door behind me, and went to make coffee.

I was lost in dreams of caramel-flavored coffee and memories of the way Tyson's body felt against mine, so I didn't hear him enter the room. I jumped when his warm arm wrapped around my waist and his hand rested on my stomach, pulling me toward him.

"Wasn't how I wanted to start the morning," he whispered huskily into my ear. I relaxed further, and let him pull me up against his chest. I could now feel he'd gotten fully dressed. "But I need to get to work."

I frowned, felt my lips push into a pout.

"Okay," I muttered and reached for the carafe. "Can I get you coffee before you leave?"

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against my cheek. "Sorry, Blue, but I can't."

I shifted in his arms until he let me go and took a step back. Sipping my first hit of daily-recommended caffeine, I closed my eyes and relished the taste.

"On a Sunday?" I asked and held the mug in both hands close to my chest.

He looked at me for a moment before answering with a wry grin. "Law doesn't wait for anyone or any day."

"Okay then, I guess...have a good day?" His eyes looked blank, making nerves begin to build inside me.

We hadn't had s.e.x.

Even if we had, I had no reason to be embarra.s.sed, but while he was doing all the right things, saying all the right things, something had put distance between us since we had rolled out of bed. Tyson stepped toward me, and my throat tightened.

"Give me your phone." He held out his hand. My eyes dropped to his palm and then raised back up to meet his. I stared at him, dumbly, until a small smile spread into a wide grin that flashed amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes. "I want your number, Blue. I want to put my number in your phone, but I can't do that without your phone."

"Oh. Right." I caught his quiet laugh while I moved back to the bedroom, grabbed my phone from the nightstand next to the bed, and headed back to the living room.

When I reached the kitchen, I saw Tyson set my mug on the counter. "I thought you didn't have time for coffee," I said, teasing him.

"Just wanted a taste."

I unlocked my phone and handed it to him, watched while he added his number, and then caught another smile stretching his cheeks.

"What's funny?" I asked and he handed me my phone. Looking down at the screen, I chuckled when I saw that he entered his name into my contacts as "Blackbird." I lifted my eyes to his and matched his smile. "You remember."

Blackbird was the nickname given to him by a bunch of his football buddies once everyone found out the reason Tyson called me Blue was because my full middle name is Bluejay. They got a kick out of teasing us mercilessly but good-naturedly.

"Told you I remember everything."

I sent him a quick text, just a quick h.e.l.lo, and set my phone on the counter after his phone pinged with a notification in his rear pocket.

"Now you have mine," I said, my voice quiet, and for some reason, my cheeks began to heat.