The Wedding Favor (30 page)

“Pfft. I couldn’t care less.”

“Good. ’Cause I’ll be dropping into Starbucks every morning so you can whip me up a latte.”

Her jaw tightened. “Do you have any idea how many calories are in a latte? You can kiss your corrugated abs good-bye.”

“Honey,” he said, with a pause for effect, “I think we both know which one of us likes to kiss my abs.”

V
icky lost it. She didn’t care if his back hurt. She slapped both palms on his chest and shoved.

And the sneaky bastard pulled her down on top of him, laughing his fool head off! His back didn’t hurt! He’d suckered her in—
again
—but this time she’d make him pay for it.

He held her around the waist, but her hands were free. Shoving one down between them, she went for his balls. They were easy to find, since his cock was hard as a nail—
again
—pointing the way.

But he read her mind—
again
—and flipped her like a pancake, flattening her with his chest, pinning her to the bed, laughing so damn hard he could hardly speak.

Not suffering the same affliction herself, she rained F-bombs all over him, for all the good it did. She tried bucking him off. His weight held her down.

He framed her face with his hands, grinned his infuriating grin. “Say uncle, honey.”

She drummed her heels on the mattress.

“I can lie here all night,” he drawled out, “squashing your bladder.”

Suddenly she had to pee. He was devious beyond belief.

“Uncle,” she bit out. “And I need to use the bathroom.”

“Promise you’ll come back to bed?”

She set her jaw. Met his glittering gaze. “For five minutes. That’s my final offer.”

With a grin that reminded her she was in no position to make final offers, he rolled off.

In the bathroom, she dawdled, finger-combing her hair, splashing cool water on her overheated face, dragging her feet because she knew what would happen when she got on the bed with him. And she wanted it. She wanted him. He stirred her up, woke her up, made her laugh, at him, at herself, at life in general.

Josie was right, she was crazy about him.

Setting her palms on the sink, she met her own eyes, remembered the last time she’d stared into a mirror deciding whether to have sex with Tyrell Brown. He’d bruised her heart on that airplane, then broken it in Amboise, and stomped on the pieces in Texas. If he hurt her once more tonight, she’d have only herself to blame.

But she’d survive. It would be awful, but she was more resilient than she’d known, and she’d survive. Much worse would be feeling like a coward and living with regret, wondering what might have been if only she’d given it a try.

Ty lay on his side, head propped in his hand, unfairly gorgeous with his jumbled hair and stubbly jaw. His tiger eyes squinted against the bedside light, his lips curved invitingly. He patted the bed in front of him and she climbed on like an obedient cat, stretching out, mirroring his position. Less than a foot of bedspread divided them.

“Did your back hurt at all?”

“Not even a little.” He stroked a hand down her bare arm, all the way to her fingertips. His drawl flowed like honey. “I had to improvise, ’cause none of this is going the way I planned.”

“You figured I’d just fall into bed with you?”

“I figured if you wanted me even a tiny little fraction of how much I want you, you’d fuck me anywhere, anytime.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I guess you were right, since we just did it in the stairwell.”

His fingers trailed up her arm again, slipped under her bra strap. His knuckle skimmed the swell of her breast, the lightest touch, but it set her skin on fire. She wanted him again. Wanted him still. The desire never really went away.

“Sweetheart, before we go any further—and I aim to go
a lot
further—I have to admit that a few minutes ago I told you a little white lie.”

Her chest tightened, but she kept her tone light. “You mean, besides the whole I-hurt-my-back white lie?”

“Yeah, this is a different one.” His thumb stroked her nipple to a peak. “You shouldn’t hold it against me, though, because the thing is, I told it to myself first. And for a long time, I believed it. I only figured out the truth yesterday, when I saw you.” He caught her eyes and held them. “I didn’t come to New York to teach. I came for you.”

Her heart thump-thumped. “For me?”

He nodded slowly. “When I got home from France, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t fuck. I couldn’t think about anything but you. And believe you me, I tried.”

His hand drifted up. One fingertip traced her collarbone. “That’s why I started hanging out with Molly. Not for sex, you understand. That didn’t happen. But to try and forget about you. Because, honey, you made me feel all kinds of things I didn’t want to feel.”

His knuckles brushed the curve of her neck, so softly she barely felt it. “Then you came out to the ranch, and everything fell into place. All I could think of was that I wanted to keep you there with me. And when you left”—he paused—“honey, when you left, I realized I don’t want to be there without you anymore.”

He heaved a sigh. “I’d rather not be in love with you. But I am.”

She cocked her head, not sure she’d heard right. “You’re . . . in love with me?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Her lips curved. “Really?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You don’t seem very happy about it.”

“Well, honey, like I told you before, you’re trouble with a capital T.”

Her hackles went up. “
I’m
trouble? Tyrell Brown—”

He knocked her onto her back and his lips came down on hers, tongue pushing past her teeth. His hand dove under her top, under her bra. She lifted into his palm, clawed his shirt up with her fingers.

“See what I mean?” His lips dragged over her jaw. “We have a little disagreement, and right away you distract me with sex.” He unzipped her jeans.

“You shouldn’t let me get away with it,” she gasped out, wriggling them off, then digging into his, pushing them down, reaching for his hard-on.

“I know. But you’re a good lay.” He lifted her hips, buried himself in her.

She arched her back, taking him deep. Her legs locked around him. “And you love me,” she gasped out.

“And I love you.” He rocked in and out, in and out. “I fucking love you, Victoria Westin.”

Warmth spread through her like a shot of whiskey. She locked her eyes on his, raked her nails down his arms. And said the words that sang in her heart.

“I love you too, Tyrell Brown.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

J
osie scowled across the counter at Ty. “What in the name of the sweet baby Jesus did you do to Vicky?”

Before he could answer, she held up a hand. “No details, please. The real question is, how is she supposed to give another brilliant performance tonight when she’s so tired she can’t tell a grande from a venti?”

His smile was smug. “Trust me, honey, she knows a venti when she sees one.”

Josie laughed. “Good one, cowboy. Perverted Starbucks humor. I like it.” She called into the back. “Hey Vicky, Sundance is here, and he looks fresh as a daisy.”

The same couldn’t be said for Vicky. She brightened when she saw him, though, which lifted his heart even higher than it already flew. He needed to get his hands on her
right away
.

“Sweetheart, you need to untie that apron and come with me this minute.”

She glanced at the clock. “I’ve got another half hour.”

“I’ll cover for you,” Josie said, “as long as you
promise
you’ll take a nap before tonight.” She cut a speaking look at Ty.

He raised his right hand. “I swear I’ll put her straight to bed.”

She rolled her eyes.

Out on the street, Vicky squinted against the midday sun. Ty wrapped an arm around her, steered her toward his place. “Josie’s right, honey, you’re peaked. We’ll get those clothes off and I’ll tuck you straight into bed.” He gave her a squeeze. “I could use a nap myself, so I’ll slide on in there with you.”

She smirked. “You’ll slide on in, huh?”

He looked offended. “Only a dirty mind would twist such an innocent comment into something X-rated.”

That made her laugh. She snuggled against his side, and the butterflies—yes, butterflies—in his stomach fluttered drunkenly.

“Don’t you have to teach this afternoon?”

“Not till three. I canceled my office hours this afternoon, so I’m all yours till then.”

She looked up at him. “I really do need sleep.”

“I know you do, honey, and I promise to keep my hands to myself. You, on the other hand, can do whatever you want with yours.”

H
ow was a woman supposed to keep her hands off Tyrell Brown when everything from his long, lean legs to his sun-kissed mop of hair cried out to be stroked and squeezed and made love to?

It couldn’t be done.

In the end, it was Ty who drew the line. “Sugar, I never thought I’d hear these words come out of my mouth, but you need to quit fucking me and go to sleep.”

He was right, but she pouted anyway.

Laughing at her mulish expression, he tucked her in close to his side. “Don’t worry, honey, we can do it all night. In fact, my place is closer to Starbucks. You should probably just move in.”

Her head shot up. “Move in? I just stopped hating you a few hours ago!”

“And look how far we’ve come already. Why, by this time tomorrow, you’ll want to get married.”

“
Married?
”

“It seems sudden to me too. But if you play your cards right, and by that I mean you keep wearing these”—he dangled tiger-striped panties from his pinky—“I’m open to discussing it.”

“
Discussing it?
” She sputtered. The man was impossible!

“I know you’re nervous about bringing it up, but you don’t need to repeat everything I say. I can already see how it makes sense from your point of view.”

“
My
point of view?” She repeated him again, but honestly, he’d rattled her down to her DNA.

“Sure. You’re crazy in love with me.” He said it like it was obvious. “It probably started when I strolled into court in my suit and tie. I noticed how you couldn’t keep your eyes off me. Then that sexathon in Amboise really fanned the flames. Hell, if I hadn’t been such a dick at the end, we’d probably be married already. So I get it. You figure we’ve wasted too much time, and you’re ready to jump right in.”

She’d recovered enough to arch a brow. “I am, am I?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Stands to reason, what with your biological clock ticking like a time bomb.” He rolled right over her snort of disbelief. “I have to warn you, though, I’m looking for a houseful of kids. Four or five at a minimum.” He patted her flank. “You’re a little skinny through the hips, but you’ll widen out after the first two or three.”

She sat up straight. “I’m in bed with Cro-Magnon Cowboy! What’s wrong with me?”

“Don’t blame yourself. I’m hard to resist.”

She flopped back on the pillow. “You really are. I don’t know why, but you really are.”

He rolled on top of her, laughing easily, and caged her head with his arms. His hair flopped forward, his tiger eyes crinkled. But as he looked down into her face, his huge grin faded until he looked so solemn that her breath caught in her throat. “Ty, what’s wrong?”

“Not a single thing.” His drawl wrapped her like velvet. “For the first time in forever, everything’s good.”

He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m real glad you’re finally doing what makes you happy. And I’m okay with living here in the city, just as long as we go back to the ranch every now and then.”

Her heart melted. “But the ranch is your home.”

“It’ll be your home too—after all, every movie star needs a ranch out West. But when you’re working, we’ll live wherever you need to live.”

Her hands stroked lightly over his strong back. “You really want to get married? To me?”

“Call me crazy.”

She laughed. It
was
crazy. But it was exactly right. Nobody made her laugh like Ty did. Nobody drove her as nuts. Nobody sent her body into orbit or her heart into overdrive like he did.

But what did he see in her?

“I don’t know anything about cows.”

“Steers, honey. I’ll teach you all about them. We’ll go out on a roundup, make love under the stars.”

“But I’m not much of a rider.”

“I disagree. You ride like a pro.”

She pinched him. “I meant horses.”

“Oh, horses. That’s okay, I’ll teach you.”

It sounded too good to be true.

“You don’t hate city living?”

“It’s got its moments, but mostly I like it. And I’ll like it a hell of a lot better when you’re sleeping in my bed every night.”

That sounded good too.

She chewed her lip. “Before you commit, I have a confession to make. It’s about the whole cowboy thing.”

His brow creased.

“You know I tease you about it a lot.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“The boots and the shirts and the drawl and everything?”

He looked worried. “Uh-huh.”

“The thing is.” She cupped his stubbly cheeks in her palms. “I hate to say this because it makes me feel like an idiot. But all that cowboy stuff really turns me on.”

His eyes rolled back in relief. “You had me going, honey. I tried picturing myself in a black turtleneck and it just about choked me.”

That made her grin. But they weren’t in the clear yet. There was still the elephant waiting at the foot of the bed, poised to crush out their happiness.

Lifting her chin, she met it head on. “What about Lissa?”

“What about her?”

“I know how much you loved her.”

“I still love her. I always will.”

Her eyes fell. Her heart too.

Then Ty slid a finger under her jaw, lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Nice try, sweetheart, but you’re not getting out of it that easy.” His eyes were unshadowed. A small smile quirked his lips. “I’m not gonna run out of the room this time. You’re stuck with me. And if I know Lissa, she’s laughing her ass off right now, thinking about all the trouble you’re gonna give me for the rest of my life.”

He dropped his head, kissed the corner of her mouth. “I love you, honey. Now you need to get some sleep, so quit rubbing your tits on me, I’m not falling for it again.”

Rolling onto his back, he snugged her down onto his shoulder. His heart thump-thumped a steady rhythm in her ear. She drew a deep breath, sighed it out. Her leg draped over his thigh, her palm rested on the cobblestones.

The elephant had left the room. She closed her eyes and slept.