Orla #2
“I’ve never pictured it with anyone else. Never wanted to,” he said, giving a small, almost disbelieving laugh. “Just because my own family fucked me up doesn't mean I can’t build something better with someone else. I know it’s kind of a deal-breaker for you, but...”
My chest caved in a little.
Part of me wanted to believe him, to soak up every word.
The other part remembered sitting across from Josh while he told me the exact opposite, that kids weren’t in his future, that I deserved someone who wanted that.
That wound had scarred over, but it still ached when pressed.
And now here was reckless, swaggering Tyler, saying the words I’d once begged to hear.
I didn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or bolt from the table.
I didn’t trust my voice, so I smiled instead. A small, unstable one that gave me away completely.
He saw it. I knew he did, because something softened in his eyes like he knew exactly what he’d just done to me.
Then he leant forward, voice dropping to that low rasp I was addicted to. “You’re dangerous in that dress, O. And not just because I want to fuck you senseless.”
“Oh?” I managed, the word a tiny, breathless challenge.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “It’s because you make me think about things I’ve never let myself want before. Permanent things. Future-type shit, Orla.”
My heart did a clumsy, violent tumble in my chest. I forced myself to sit back, gripping the edge of the velvet chair to stop from melting right into the floorboards.
I could feel the heat prickling my eyes, a sudden, glassy vulnerability that I fought to swallow down.
I wasn't ready to cry into the Pinot. Not yet.
“So,” I said, my voice sounding a little too light, a little too desperate to change the subject before I completely combusted under the weight of his stare. “What’s for dessert, Reed? Since you’re being so... forward.”
He grinned, the candlelight dancing in the golden-brown depths of his gaze. “You... obviously. But I’ll buy you a crème br?lée first, just to keep things classy.
I laughed, but my heart was pounding so hard it hurt. There was no use pretending anymore; this man had worked his way under my skin and I didn’t ever want him gone.
The rest of dinner passed in a haze, the heat and electricity thick between us until the waiter set down the cheque and shattered the tension like glass.
The second we stepped into the night, Tyler’s hand slid to the small of my back. The careful and testing kind of touch I’d felt before had been replaced by something more determined and possessive. Like he was claiming me and every nerve in my body lit up in answer.
Heads turned. I wasn’t imagining it. A few glances lingered too long. One guy walking past did a double take, and half-lifted his phone—just checking directions, maybe.
Or maybe not.
“Shit,” I murmured, pulse quickening. Tyler glanced at me.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, though my stomach flipped. “I think a guy just took a photo of us.”
He didn’t even look back. Just leaned in close, lips brushing my ear. “Then let ‘em.”
The driver opened the car door for me and I slid in first. Tyler followed and barely waited for the door to close before his hand was on my thigh.
“Jesus,” he muttered, eyes on my legs. “I can’t wait to get you out of this dress.”
“I warned you.” I smirked.
“You didn’t warn me you’d smell like this,” he said, dragging his nose along my neck. “Like some expensive fucking fantasy.”
“Thought you were going to behave,” I whispered, my voice already breathless.
“I think I said I was behaving until dessert,” he rasped. “I’m just getting what I deserve.”
He dragged his hand deliberately higher, until his fingers pressed between my legs through the lace. I was already soaked. Of course I was.
“Tyler…”
“Shh,” he murmured, hovering his lips an inch away from mine. “We’ve got tinted windows, baby. The driver is paid to mind his business.”
I bit my lip, trying not to arch into him as he dragged his fingers over me in the most languid and lethal way.
“God, you’re wet,” he whispered, mouth by my ear.
“You sit through dinner like that? While I’m over here trying to make conversation and pretend I’m not imagining you under the table with your mouth on me? ”
I squeezed my thighs around his hand, my breath catching. “You’re so full…of yourself.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But this?” He pushed the fabric aside and dipped one finger inside. “This says I’m right.”
My head fell back against the leather headrest. I could barely breathe, let alone argue. And just when I thought I was going to fall apart in the backseat of a Toronto cab, he pumped his fingers in and out once more before pulling his hand away completely.
I let out a strangled sound. “You’re evil.”
He leaned back against the seat, licking his finger slowly like the absolute menace he was.
“Relax, baby. I get to taste all of you upstairs.”
The cab slowed outside the hotel, and Tyler’s hand slid from my thigh to my knee like he wasn’t ready to surrender even an inch of me.
My skin burned from the imprint of him, heat lingering long after he pulled back.
By the time we crossed the lobby I could barely remember how to walk straight, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the floor, my legs feeling like they were made of jelly.
The wait for the lift was the longest ten seconds of my life,
The moment the doors slid shut, the ‘gentleman’ who had just accompanied me to dinner vanished.
Before I could even catch my breath, my back hit the cool steel panel with a heavy thud.
Tyler was on me, his mouth finding mine in a collision of teeth and heat.
His hands tangled in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat as his tongue pushed deeper, desperate for the taste of me.
Instinct took over. My leg wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against me, and I groaned into his mouth as the solid, heavy pressure of his arousal pressed into my center. He was already thick and hard through his trousers, a promise of exactly how the rest of this night was going to go.
“Fuck, Orla,” he rasped, dragging his mouth along my jaw. “The things I’m going to do to you tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” I smirked. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Fucking both, baby.”
The lift pinged on our floor just as the strap of my dress slipped off my shoulder. In the mirrored panel behind him, I caught the image of us. My mouth swollen from him, hair wild, eyes blown wide with want. I already looked like I’d been thoroughly ruined.
He grabbed my hand, laced our fingers, and hauled me out into the corridor like a man walking into battle.
His pace was brutal and blistering. The keycard shook in his hand when he tried to swipe it once, twice, he cursed under his breath, and when it finally swung open, he all but shoved us inside.
The door slammed. I barely had a second to breathe before he pinned me against it with a frantic urgency. His mouth claimed mine hungrily, his hands sliding over every inch of bare skin like he couldn’t choose what to worship first.
What he didn’t expect was for me to fist his shirt and shove him back. I kissed him with such desperation he didn’t have a chance to react. My heart was pounding. Something inside me had been unleashed and I needed him. God, I needed him.
““Fuck, O,” he groaned against my mouth, voice shredded. “You’re…Jesus.”