Tyler (Inked Brotherhood 2)

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

Shocked into silence, I stare at him. His gaze is moving over my body, a hot, silky glide that steals my breath. His pupils are dilated, making his eyes look black.

I try again. “After all this time, I just want to know—”

His hand hooks around my back, pressing me to his body, and he bends his head toward me, dark hair falling in his eyes. His mouth descends on mine, sealing the words inside.

The world falls away with a murmur as he kisses me. I gasp and his tongue pushes inside, tangling with mine. He licks at my mouth, and he tastes so good—like dark chocolate and pepper. Familiar. Thrilling. Sexy.

I want more. I slide my arms around his hips and kiss him back. His chest vibrates against me as he moans, and then he drags me closer, until my breasts are crushed against his firm abs.

A tiny voice at the back of my mind is screeching in protest—this shouldn’t be happening, we should be talking, explaining, finishing this off—but it’s drowned in the rushing of blood in my ears, the thundering beat of my heart. His smell, his taste, the feel of his muscular body, it sends waves of scalding heat over my skin, through me, tightening the tips of my breasts, starting a pulse between my legs. I cling to him as I burn from the inside out; I desperately need him—need to feel him around me, against me, inside me. Everywhere where he’s been missing for so long.

His hands move down to the small of my back, then lower, lifting my skirt. He swallows my moan of protest and slips a hand round the front, inside my panties. I gasp as his callused fingers touch me, slide inside me.

Oh God, oh crap. It feels so good. He strokes me, rough and tender, soft and hard, until my body starts to shake. Pleasure rips through me, tearing me apart.

“No,” I whisper, panting harshly.

“Erin?” Tyler’s soft voice focuses me.

I open my eyes—can’t remember closing them. And the voice of reason that I ignored while he was touching me is suddenly screeching in my ears.

Big mistake. Huge. What am I doing? Am I mad? What about Jax? What about my decision?

He’s breathing hard, saying nothing. The bulge in his jeans is a blatant proof of how much this has affected him. Just seeing the evidence of his arousal, so long and thick, outlined in the fabric of his pants, make me throb again and sends heat up to my face.

No. Enough. I adjust my panties. I bite my lip as I catch his gaze following my every move, and as his hand reaches down to cup his erection.

I wonder when things got so much out of control. I’m wet; I want him inside me. If this is what he can do to me with just his fingers, I can’t even imagine…

God, stop it. I know exactly how he feels inside of me. And, Christ, I thought I remembered how good it was, but this… This is much stronger than I remembered. In every way. I don’t think I can handle it.

My lungs labor and my eyes sting. “Tyler… Talk to me.”

“I said I don’t wanna talk.”

I suck a deep breath. With shaking hands, I pull my skirt down. “Well, guess what? I need an explanation.”

He shakes his head. The pain in his eyes intensifies, radiates outward, and brings out lines between his brows and around his mouth. “It’s a time I don’t want to remember.”

“Why? What happened? Was it your dad?”

“Dammit, I don’t want to fucking talk about it!” His eyes flash.

I take a step back, startled, moving up against the counter.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He scrubs a hand over his face, and it hurts to see him so distraught. He’s so devastatingly handsome. So closed off and distant.

Which tells me how stupid this is, setting up my heart to be broken all over again. I can’t stay a moment longer, not after this.

I move to the door and unlock it.

“Erin, wait.”

There’s pain in his voice, and I glance back at him over my shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck.