Chapter 11 Sawyer
Chapter eleven
Sawyer
Annoyance courses through me as I fish around my bag, searching for my keys.
They’re not in the inside pocket where I always keep them. As if I needed one more thing to go wrong on this godforsaken day.
Between the early start in the dean’s office, class, meeting with Mercer, and a group research project meeting that took far longer than necessary, I haven’t stopped all day.
All I want to do is to fall into bed and lock out the rest of the world. I need time to process everything that happened today before I can start to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about Ty.
I climb the last few stairs and round the corner, heading to 1D, still unable to locate the damn keys.
With a frustrated huff, I sling my bag off my shoulder and let it fall to my feet.
I’ve just crouched and tugged my bag open wide when I notice that my door is propped open.
Instant relief hits me, though it’s quickly followed by panic.
Is it possible that I left in such a rush earlier that I didn’t close or lock my door?
That’s not like me.
Whether it’s from trauma or an abundance of caution, a little pit of dread forms in my belly, telling me something isn’t right. I stand, my heart pounding in my ears, and shuffle to the ajar door.
Without stepping inside, I push it open.
“Hello?”
The room is mostly dark. The little lamp on my desk is still on. Nothing appears to be out of place.
“It’s me,” a low voice rumbles from inside.
A breath whooshes from my lungs. Good grief.
Why the hell is he here?
The last thing I want right now is to have to deal with Tytus.
I’m still livid with him. Even as I tried to justify his erratic behavior to Mercer, I had a hard time remembering what he’s been through and why he shuts down sometimes.
Ty cares about me. Deeply. That’s a fact. That doesn’t excuse anything he did to create and perpetuate this situation.
I’m committed to the plan I came up with in Mercer’s office. I’ll placate him, give him a chance to cool down. Then I’ll reason with him and convince him to delete the video.
But I don’t want to see him right now.
In this moment, I want nothing more than to be fucking done for the day.
Holding back a snarl, I snatch my bag off the ground and step inside the dimly lit room.
“What do you want now?” I ask.
He’s made himself comfortable on the love seat across from my desk, with his legs spread wide and his massive arms crossed in front of his body.
He’s quiet for a beat. Then another.
My irritation grows, but before I can demand an answer, he says, “Welcome home, Mrs. Tremblay.”
I stiffen.
There’s no one else around. No one to put on a show for.
This boy is out of his mind if he thinks his grand plan is going to extend into our private lives.
“Don’t call me that. How did you get in here?” I put my bag on my desk chair and pull my hair out of the ponytail I threw it into halfway through this garbage day.
I’m itching to strip off my clothes and change into sweats. Before this morning, I probably wouldn’t have hesitated to change with Ty in my room.
Now?
Not happening.
I step out of my shoes and tilt my neck from side to side, relishing the way it pops.
I need to be done for the day. As much as I’d like to put him in his place, he certainly hasn’t had enough time to cool down, and I’m out of fight and the patience necessary to navigate this without making a bigger mess.
Exhaling, I decide that I’ll do whatever it takes to get him out of here for the time being.
“Fine,” I relent, accepting temporary defeat. “Don’t answer me if you don’t want to, but I’d like to be alone now, so I need you to leave.”
He tsks. “Aw, come on, petit diable. That’s no way to greet your husband.”
I bite my tongue, literally, to keep from going off on him.
He’s being an ass, but I refuse to engage.
I move around the room silently, taking off my jewelry, making it clear that I’m getting comfy for the night.
His eyes follow me as I stumble through the mostly dark room.
His scent—warm vanilla and bitter lime—infiltrates my senses, causing me to shudder. It used to be a sign of safety for me.
Not now.
Now, I’m flustered and frustrated. Annoyed and acutely aware of his presence as all my senses spark to life.
I’m mindful of how my body folds forward when I bend to take off my socks. I’m conscious of each stroke as I brush out my hair, of the way my breasts rise and fall with every breath. I swear I can see him track the movement of my throat when I swallow.
He watches wordlessly, and yet the silence is roaringly loud.
Finally, with a sigh, I turn to him. “I don’t know what you think this is going to accomplish, Ty. I’m not interested in hanging out right now. I just want to wind down and go to bed.”
“Come over here,” he says, his voice even but stern.
My instinct is to hold my ground, but if it means getting him out of here faster, I’ll do it.
On bare feet, I pad over to the love seat.
“Sit down,” he tells me.
Lips pressed together, I shake my head. “You need to go.”
He cocks one brow playfully, those dark eyes gleaming as one side of his mouth tips up on a smirk. “You need to sit.”
Before I can register what’s happening, he loops his fingers through my belt loops and tugs until I fall squarely into his lap.
As if I weigh nothing, he arranges my legs on either side of him.
“Ty,” I warn, my body going rigid.
“Shh.” He grips the back of my neck with one hand and guides my head down until our noses almost brush.
I fight his hold, arching back.
He only squeezes tighter.
Scowling, I relent, forcing my shoulders to relax to ease the strain.
“Ty,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
“I love the way you say my name,” he whispers, inching closer.
I war with myself, wanting to pull back just as badly as I want to lean in.
“I love all the little noises you make.” His breath ghosts over my cheek. “I’ve spent years dreaming about the way you’d sound when I made you orgasm for the first time.”
I freeze, anticipating the blow.
“Imagine how it felt to have to watch another man pull those little noises out of you as you came on his cock instead of mine.”
He presses my hips down, then squeezes the globes of my ass.
My body is rigid, my blood whooshing through my ears as my heart hammers against my chest. My options are to resist or relent.
Before I can choose, Ty decides for me. He presses down harder, forcing me lower.
My thighs spread without my permission, accommodating the pressure. I brace myself, hovering to keep from making contact with his groin.
He isn’t having it. Arching up, he propels me down with both hands.
The insides of my thighs burn from the stretch, and when I register the feel of him—the long, hard, prominent bulge through his athletic shorts—a gasp escapes me.
“There it is,” he praises.
Good grief.
Heat licks up my spine and a moan works its way up my throat. I zip my mouth shut, determined not to let it out. Not to make another sound.
I can’t move.
I don’t want to move.
I want to stay right here, with my body pressed against his length. With his arms wrapped around me, locking me in place.
No.
Fuck.
I close my eyes, willing that thought to flee.
But then Ty brushes my hair to the side and lowers his head, and I lean into him.
Allowing.
Existing in this screwed-up place where I’m straddling him and he’s holding me and we’re both exactly where we’ve wanted to be for the first time in years.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited to have you?” He nuzzles into my neck and plants a featherlight kiss below my ear.
I do.
Too long.
He waited too fucking long.
An image of Mercer materializes in my mind. Followed quickly by one of Noah.
They dissipate as Ty runs his hands up my back on either side of my spine.
When he reaches the top, he captures me by the shoulders, locking me in place.
I shift, gauging my chances of escaping, but go nowhere.
He’s holding me so tightly I can’t move up, down, or to either side.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited to touch you? To taste you? To fucking have you, Sawyer?”
Warmth spreads through me.
His lips land on my neck, and he guides them painfully slowly down to my collarbone, leaving goose bumps in his wake.
He releases his hold on my shoulders and caresses my sides, dragging them around until he’s cupping my breasts over my shirt.
I lean in on instinct.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited to feel these?” He squeezes my breasts, his massive hands almost big enough to eclipse them.
Tongue darting out, he drops his gaze, kneading them with deft fingers. His breathing picks up, his pupils dilating further as he homes in on my piercings, as if he knows they’re there, despite the padding of my bra hiding the outline of them.
He twists just enough to send sparks through my pussy.
A barely there whimper escapes me.
Fuck.
What am I doing?
Shuddering, I close my eyes, horrified by my body’s betrayal.
“You were always supposed to be mine,” he murmurs into the crook of my neck.
He hooks a finger over the collar of my shirt and drags it down, fixating on the tops of my breasts when they come into view.
My heart pounds and my chest heaves as I fight like hell to keep my wits about me.
“But you let another man have you first. Now I have to catch up. Are you ready to play, petit diable?”