Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
ROBYN
Robyn woke the next morning in semi-darkness, the sounds of the house waking up around her. The room was dim, the sheets warm. Tyler’s heavy duvet was pulled up snug over her shoulders like it had been tucked there on purpose.
For a few blissful seconds, she didn’t move. She just lay there, listening. The faint creak of the house settling. A cupboard closing somewhere down the hall. The low murmur of running water.
Then memory slid into place: Tyler’s arms around her waist, his mouth pressed to the top of her head, the steady warmth of him behind her. The way she’d finally fallen asleep feeling safe and cherished.
The bedroom door creaked open.
Tyler slipped inside wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt, a mug of coffee in each hand. Behind him, Emma’s voice carried down the hall—bright, insistent, full of that kid energy that only existed before 7:30 a.m.
“Dad, did you pack me any fruit snacks?” she was saying. “I told Chloe I’d bring fruit snacks for us to share today.”
Tyler leaned his head back out the door with the patience of a man who had heard a thousand versions of this question. “I put two packs in your lunch bag,” he called, then stepped back into the room and nudged the door mostly shut again.
“I thought you might be awake,” he murmured, crossing to the bed. “Emma’s loud enough in the morning to wake the neighbors.”
He handed Robyn one of the mugs.
“Sorry,” Robyn said automatically, sitting up and accepting it. A wave of guilt washed over her. “I didn’t mean to sleep in.”
“No, it’s fine,” Tyler said. His gaze held hers, steady and sure. “Emma knows you stayed over because you had a rough day and I didn’t want you alone. No pressure to be social—I just wanted you to know.”
The honesty of it made something in Robyn relax. It was probably the right way to handle it. Simple. Age-appropriate. No secrecy, no awkwardness.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “As long as she’s okay with it…”
“Okay with it?” Tyler’s mouth curved. “She wanted to make you pancakes in bed, but I told her she’d be late for school if she didn’t get a move on.”
“For the record,” Robyn said, blowing lightly over the rim of her coffee before taking a sip, “I’d take pancakes in bed any day.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tyler murmured.
As if on cue, the door creaked open again.
Emma appeared in the doorway with her hair in pigtails and wearing a bright blue hoodie with rainbow stripes, backpack already on. She looked between them without even a flicker of surprise, as if this was all perfectly normal.
“Morning,” she said, casual as anything.
Robyn’s stomach fluttered anyway. “Morning, Emma.”
Emma stepped one foot into the room, eyes bright. “Are you going to be here when I get home after school?”
Robyn shook her head gently. “Afraid not. I have to work at the bookstore.”
Emma’s face fell, then bounced back with quick determination. “Maybe you could come over after?”
“Maybe,” Robyn said, smiling, because it was easier than explaining adult schedules to an eight-year-old who ran on hope and snack packs. “But I promise I’ll see you really soon.”
Emma brightened at that like Robyn had handed her a signed contract. “Okay. Well, I gotta go. The bus is almost here.”
She crossed the room, gave Tyler a big hug that he returned without hesitation, then darted away again, already moving at the speed of a child on a mission.
“Love you, bye!” she called over her shoulder as she ran out.
Tyler watched her go with a soft look that made Robyn’s chest ache.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, setting his mug down and heading out to see Emma to the door.
Robyn sat in the quiet for a moment, both hands wrapped around the coffee like it could anchor her.
The house felt softer now, as if Emma’s bright, rushing energy had left a warm imprint in the hallway.
She could still hear the tail end of it: Tyler’s low voice, Emma’s quick footsteps, the front door opening and closing.
The bedroom door opened again a few minutes later, and Tyler stepped in with that same calm, settled presence he always carried, like he’d just put the world in its place and come back to her. His hair slightly mussed, his expression softened in a way that gave Robyn all the feels.
He crossed the room without hurry, sat on the edge of the bed, and brushed his knuckles along her cheek as if he was checking in without asking.
“You okay?” he murmured.
Robyn nodded, setting her coffee mug on the nightstand, though the truth was complicated. She was okay in this room. In this bed. With him. She was not okay in the rest of her life, which was still waiting to pounce the second she opened her email.
Tyler leaned in and kissed her. It was soft at first.
It didn’t stay that way.
Robyn kissed him back and let a small sound slip out when his hand tightened at her waist. She nipped gently at his bottom lip, testing. Tyler made a low, rough sound in his throat, like he’d been waiting for that exact permission. The kiss deepened, slow and hungry.
“We’ve got about two hours until you have to be at the store. Shower?” he murmured against her mouth.
Robyn nodded. A shower would be the perfect way to start the day that didn’t involve her brain sprinting ahead into catastrophe.
She nodded, smiling faintly against his lips. “Yeah.”
They moved together to the bathroom without hurry, undressing slowly as if there was nowhere else they needed to be right now except here.
Tyler turned the water on first, adjusting the temperature until steam began to curl at the edges of the mirror.
While the room warmed, he came up behind her and gathered her close, arms crossing over her chest, the weight of him solid and steady.
He kissed the slope of her neck, open-mouthed and unhurried, and Robyn leaned back into him with a quiet exhale that felt like surrender in the best way.
When the water was ready, he guided her under the spray. It was almost too hot at first, then perfect—cascading over her shoulders, sliding down her spine, turning her thoughts into something slower and softer.
Tyler stepped in behind her, letting the stream hit his back so it sheeted forward over both of them. He reached for the body wash, poured it into his palm, and worked it between his hands until it foamed.
“Let me,” he said quietly.
And Robyn let him.
He started at her shoulders, thumbs circling in long, languid strokes that loosened the last of the morning tension from her muscles. Down her arms. Across her collarbones. Over her skin with a kind of attention that felt devotional.
Robyn closed her eyes and simply breathed, letting the warmth and the water and his hands remind her that her body was still hers, that pleasure could still be safe, that she didn’t have to brace for impact every time someone got close.
Robyn turned in his arms, facing him fully now. Water ran down his jaw, caught in his lashes. His gaze held hers like he had time.
The shower and the steam and the quiet house faded into the background and there was only the two of them, pressed together, moving in that slow, inevitable way that felt like a promise.
“Still okay?” he asked, voice low.
Robyn nodded, fingertips sliding up his chest. “More than okay.”
His hands tightened at her waist, his mouth finding hers again, and when she finally made a small, needy sound against his lips, Tyler smiled like it undid him.
Their tongues slid together in a rhythm that matched the steady fall of water. Robyn’s hands mapped his chest, his shoulders, the strong line of his back, learning him by feel as though she hadn’t already memorized every inch.
Tyler lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist, but he didn’t enter her yet.
Instead he pressed her back gently against the warm tile, holding her there while he kissed down her throat, across her chest, taking one nipple into his mouth with exquisite care.
Robyn tilted her head back, eyes fluttering closed as Tyler’s mouth closed over her nipple with the softest reverence.
The gentle suction pulled a slow, liquid heat through her chest; then came the warm swirl of his tongue, tracing lazy circles.
The sensation arrowed straight down her body, sharp and sweet, drawing an involuntary arch from her spine and a quiet, trembling sigh of his name into the steam.
She felt him shift then, his body aligning with hers beneath the steady cascade of water.
The blunt heat of him pressed against her entrance, and he paused.
Through the veil of mist, their eyes met—his dark and steady, asking.
Her heart gave a heavy, eager thud. She answered with the smallest nod, barely a movement, but enough.
He entered her with exquisite slowness. Inch by measured inch he filled her, letting her feel the thick glide of him, stretching and claiming her until their hips met. The sensation was overwhelming—complete, intimate. They exhaled together, a long, shared tremor of sound lost beneath the water.
He rocked—deep, languid rolls of his hips that dragged the length of him against every sensitive place inside her.
Each slow movement sent warm ripples of pleasure spreading outward from her core, building.
One of his hands cradled the back of her head, fingers threading protectively through her wet hair; the other slipped between their pressed bodies.
His fingertips found her clit with the same patient tenderness, stroking in soft, matching circles.
Her arms tightened around his neck, fingers curling into the damp strands at his nape as though she needed to anchor herself to him.
Her breath came in soft, uneven gasps against his mouth.
The pleasure gathered like a slow-rising tide, deep and steady, swelling with every gentle rock, every careful caress, until it crested without warning.
She came apart with a quiet, shuddering cry, her body clenching around him in long, luxurious pulses that seemed to go on and on.
Waves of warmth rolled through her limbs, leaving her trembling, weightless, utterly boneless in his hold.
Tyler never faltered; he rocked her through every aftershock, drawing the sensation out until she felt like liquid light held together only by his arms.
Only then did she feel him give in. His hips pressed deep one final time, and he spilled inside her with a low groan that vibrated against her neck.
They remained locked together under the water, hearts pounding in the same wild, perfect rhythm. His lips brushed her temple in a feather-light kiss, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth—each one lingering, soft.
When he finally eased out of her and lowered her feet to the tile, her legs trembled beneath her. His hands settled immediately at her waist, warm and sure.
“We don’t have to move yet,” he whispered, voice rough.
Robyn laughed softly—the sound swallowed as she kissed him again, slow and lingering, tasting water and him and the sweet afterglow still shimmering under her skin.
“I don’t know,” she murmured against his mouth. “We might have to try this outside of the bathroom sometime soon.”
Tyler’s hands tightened at her waist. “Is that so?” His voice was low, lazy, full of promise. “Luckily for you, I have a lot of ideas.”