Chapter 25
Saffron
It felt odd to come back to his apartment again.
The instant reminder of five years ago came like a punch to the gut.
I didn’t expect to feel so weird about it.
We were just colleagues now, right? If you discount the sex today.
Or the way he was behaving now. This was not the same snarky Tyler I was used to.
The retorts were still there, but he was a little more—kind?
Even describing him as such made little sense.
It was the sex. It had thrown me for a loop.
I had not expected to do that with him. And then I had gone back to my office as though I hadn’t just had my back blown for lunch.
And when I signed off for the day and chose to visit a café, who did I bump into again?
That last one was my fault. I don’t know why I had forgotten that his sister owned it.
In truth, I hadn’t been thinking about it when I went there.
I was walking aimlessly and entered the café because I was craving coffee.
The same coffee that was now tainting my blouse.
“Let me get you something to wear,” he said and went upstairs.
I trudged into the living room and sat down on the maroon couch.
He had changed little except in updating the furniture and adding a few accolades.
There were awards and certificates he had decoratively placed on the wall.
There was now a forest-green bookshelf in the corner.
Most were books on architecture and design.
Tyler came back with a T-shirt and sweats. “I am not wearing your ex’s clothes.”
“These belong to me.” He threw the T-shirt over his arm and unrolled the pants. “The sweatpants are a bit old. I last wore them when I was a teenager, I think. But they’re clean.”
I got up from the couch and grabbed the clothes. “Thanks. Where can I—”
“There’s a guest bedroom; second door to the left.”
When I came back down again in his clothes, which were surprisingly comfy, fire lit his eyes when he saw me. “They fit. I’ll send your clothes to the dry cleaner.”
“You don’t have to. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m the one who suggested we walk.”
“That’s a flimsy reason. It’s not like I blame you or anything.”
He shrugged. He had put on casual clothes of his own, and the sweatshirt he wore made him a lot more disarming than he was. I preferred suit Tyler. Suit Tyler was a lot more straight-laced, but this laid-back version of him made my stomach wobble.
“Fine. Do what you want. Thanks for the clothes, but I think it’s time for me to go.”
I grabbed my purse from the couch and was on my way out of the living room when he held me back. “Stop. Please. Don’t you want dinner?”
What was he up to? “Yes. But not with you.” If I spent one more minute around him and in an enclosed space, I didn’t know if I could hold myself back. I was already thinking of a repeat, shameless as it was.
“You haven’t had my food. You’re missing out. And besides, we haven’t finished discussing your plans for the penthouse suites.”
I was sure we were done talking about the plans, but my mind was focused on one peculiar item. “Tyler fucking Hawthorne knows how to cook?” I laughed under my breath.
“Enough to brag about it.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“Oh. This I have to see.” I retreated back into the living room and threw my purse onto the couch.
Tyler flashed a small, mischievous smile. “Be prepared to be amazed.”
He went to the kitchen. I followed him there and watched as he took out utensils, pots, pans, and marinated meat from the fridge.
When he took out the vegetables, I offered to cut them so I could have something to do with my hands and not ogle him as he worked.
He was right. He knew his way around the kitchen and moved as though he had been cooking for years.
“So what do you think?” I said when I gave him the vegetables. He threw them in the pan and sautéed them like a seasoned chef.
Tyler glanced over his shoulder. “Huh?”
“About my plans? I thought we had talked about everything there is to talk about. You approved the last layout I sent to you.”
Flame flashed as he tossed the veggies in the air. “I did?”
“Come on.” I tilted my head to the side. “I knew you weren’t paying attention. Matt’s the one who approved them on your behalf, didn’t he?”
“No, I—there are a few things I have questions about, nothing major.”
I crossed my arms and went to stand beside him.
The pot on the plate next to the one he was using was emitting a pasta-like aroma that danced on my nostrils.
Casually, I opened the pot and was greeted with a giant gust of hot steam.
“Shit!” I threw the lid back on the pot, backing away from the stove.
“Fuck, Saff, are you okay?” Tyler rushed to my side and grabbed a towel next to me. He dabbed my face.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have.” I felt like a teenager caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing. “I just wanted to see the progress.”
Tyler chuckled. “It’s fine.” He directed me to a stool and patted my face gently, wiping away the steam.
His other hand held my back so gently I felt like a fragile egg.
His face was so close to mine that if I leaned forward an inch, our lips would touch.
Our encounter from earlier in the day rushed back into my mind again.
He had been so passionate and punishing.
Two wolves inside him were fighting for control, and even after we were done, I wasn’t sure which one had won.
“Why did you do it?” I blurted it out without thinking.
“This afternoon? I don’t know; I wanted you, and I was tired of seeing you flirting with other men, and I wanted to claim what’s mine.”
He knew what I was referring to as though he had read my mind. “I wasn’t flirting with him. We were just talking.”
“He was looking at you as though he wanted to fuck you.”
“That’s not my fault!”
“I didn’t say it is.”
I sighed. “You shouldn’t assume every guy I am talking to is flirting with me. It makes you seem…”
“Jealous? What if I am?”
My heart skipped a beat.
He folded the towel and placed it on the counter, then caressed my face. “I am tired of pretending that I am not. I am tired of pretending that I don’t care about how other men look at you.”
“I can’t control that.”
“I know. But whenever I see some man stare at you, I want to punch them in the face.”
“Tyler.”
His lips went to mine, and he kissed me. “I want you. This. This is what I want.” He kissed me again, taking my breath away each time our mouths came into contact. “I can’t think of anything when I am around you. You drive me crazy, and… I enjoy the feeling.”
He lifted me from the stool and onto the counter. He pushed my thighs apart and drew me forward, my groin hitting his when he did so.
“And when you kissed me, I realized that I wanted to do nothing more than taste you all day, every day.” His lips caressed mine, making me think he was about to give me a soft kiss, only to plunge inside my mouth with passion and ardor that matched the frantic nature of the afternoon.
His hands were all over me as his tongue danced with mine.
His cock nudged at my center. The garments between us, an irritating fabric border, he quickly demolished.
My pants were the first to go, followed by his t-shirt, then my t-shirt, and then his pants.
My hands ran down his chest, raking my fingers through the hairs on his chest, watching him groan as his eyes went dark with desire.
But that was all the control he gave me before pushing my hands away from his body and claiming my lips again, doing away with my bra and slipping down to my center.
“Fuck. How long have you been wet?”
“Long enough to ruin your pants, probably.”
“Fuck,” he said against my lips as he replaced his fingers with his cock.
His thrusts were hard, fast, and frantic.
He drove into me as I held onto his neck.
The counter was so slippery I was sure I would fall, but his grip was sturdy enough that I held on for the ride.
And when I came apart, I locked my thighs around his waist, wanting to keep him inside me as I milked his cock. But he was pushing me away.
“I’m about to come,” he said in my ear as he continued to thrust. “I can’t come inside you.”
At the last moment, he pulled away and spilled onto the kitchen floor.
His groan was loud and guttural as he came.
He milked the cum out of his cock and smeared it on my stomach.
“Mine. You’re mine.” He collapsed on top of me.
I accepted his weight and ran my hand through his hair as we both caught our breaths.
Burned carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower filled my nostrils. “I don’t think you can prove your cooking skills anymore.”
A guttural laugh burst from him as he lazily palmed my breast. “We can order takeout. There are other things I want to prove to you.”
◆◆◆
Takeout came thirty minutes later. It was from one of his favorite restaurants that I had only dreamed of dining in. We ate while talking about work. He really was serious about the changes.
“Do you need any help? I thought you’d be working with your partner when we hired you,” he said as we ate side by side on his couch naked.
His request—he wanted to see me naked. It felt odd to discuss business with my boobs hanging out, but after getting comfortable, horniness took over me.
I no longer cared. Tyler was just as aroused.
His cock was slowly hardening even though we weren’t doing anything sexual.
“I’m okay. I’ve always worked alone. It’s much easier that way. It allows me to focus.”
“Well, it looks like you have it handled, anyway. Can’t wait to see the rooms when you’re done.”
“We’re done with one of them. I wanted to give you a tour so we could convince you of the changes, just in case the pitch didn’t move you.”