Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
TYLER
Tyler turned the key in the front door and listened to the lock catch.
The last of the crowd noise died outside, swallowed by the night, and the bookstore settled into its midnight hush.
Lantern light flickered against the shelves; the stage with its chaise and candelabra looked like it was waiting for the next act.
Robyn moved about the store, closing the front curtains, still in corset and red skirt, cheeks still flushed from the night’s events, eyes bright and a little stunned—as if she couldn’t quite believe she’d made it through it all without collapsing.
Tyler watched her breathe, watched her shoulders slowly drop, and thought: This is the part no one sees.
The part where the adrenaline fades and what’s left is her—brave, exhausted, brilliant.
She let out a small, unsteady laugh that cracked in the middle. “I was this close to just… keeling over. Right there on the velvet chaise. Dramatic faint, full Victorian swoon. They would’ve loved it.”
Tyler crossed the floor in three quiet steps, stopping just outside her personal space. “You didn’t.”
“I know.” Another shaky exhale. “But God, this thing—” She plucked at the black satin lacing over her ribs. “It’s sexy until you have to breathe for real.”
He smiled, soft and private. “I noticed the exact second your voice stopped shaking. Two seconds in. You looked up, found me, and then the whole room leaned toward you like you were pulling strings. I felt it from thirty feet away.”
Robyn’s eyes glistened; she blinked hard. “You’re making that up.”
“I’m really not.” He nodded toward the little gothic reading nook, the velvet chaise, the low table still scattered with event programs, the string of lanterns dripping warm light. “Come here. Look.”
They walked together. The charity table sat abandoned. The only thing left was Mrs. C.’s fountain pen and a sign that read: Sold Out. Pre-orders Only!
They stood together on the stage.
“This,” he said, gesturing at the book nook, “is where you did it.”
She shook her head once, small and fierce. “Where we did it,” she corrected, rising onto her toes. “Together.”
She kissed him then. Tyler held on, his hands settling at her waist, feeling the softness of the black velvet corset beneath his palms—the tight lacing warm where it pressed against her back.
When they broke apart, Robyn stayed close, her hands still fisted in the front of his coat like she needed the contact to keep herself brave. She looked up at him, eyes shining in the lantern light. She looked nervous and certain at the same time.
“Tyler,” she whispered, like saying his name was a decision.
He brushed his thumb over her cheek, a quiet question. “Yeah?”
Robyn swallowed, her throat working. “I love you.”
The words landed soft and heavy all at once. Tyler felt like she’d placed something precious between them and was trusting him not to drop it.
He didn’t hesitate. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.
“I love you too,” he said, voice rough with it. “I think I’ve been trying not to for weeks, and I’ve been failing miserably.”
Robyn’s laugh came out on a shaky breath, eyes filling. “That’s good.” She wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “Because I just bought a bookstore. Which means I’m staying. Which means”—she gestured vaguely between them—“I’m going to need your help.”
Tyler laughed. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”
“Well, for starters, you can help me take this thing off.” She reached behind herself for the corset laces, fingers fumbling at the top knot. The angle was impossible; she twisted, swore under her breath, then gave up with a huff.
Tyler’s gaze flicked to her hands, then back to her face. “It’s that complicated, huh?” He chuckled.
“You have no idea.”
He stepped behind her, close enough that he could feel the heat of their bodies mixing in the space between them.
One hand rested feather-light on her shoulder; the other found the top lace.
“Like this?” he murmured, tugging experimentally—slow, waiting for her yes.
“Yes.”
The first tug loosened the bow. He drew the silk cord through, each release accompanied by the soft rasp of fabric parting.
Between movements, he bent and pressed his lips to the newly bared nape of her neck—once, twice, three times—as though every loosened tie was another fear peeling away and falling to the floor.
When the corset finally gaped open, he didn’t rush to strip it away. Instead, he slid his palms up her ribs, steadying her as she drew her first deep, unrestricted breath in hours. She shuddered—pleasure and relief in equal measure.
Tyler reached up next, fingers finding the first hairpin at her crown. He eased it free. Another. Another. Dark waves spilled over her shoulders in heavy sections; her posture softened with every pin that dropped onto the rug.
She turned in his arms, and he kissed her like a vow. The movement was slow, unhurried, and thorough.
Robyn melted into it, hands sliding beneath the open edges of his waistcoat, fingertips tracing the heat of his skin through cotton.
When they broke for air, she was smiling against his mouth. “You’re still wearing half your costume.”
“So are you.” His thumb brushed the black lace choker still circling her throat, the tiny garnet drop resting in the hollow. “Keep that on,” he said, voice rough. “Just that.”
Her laugh was low. She tugged him down with her as they sank backward onto the velvet chaise.
Tyler braced one hand beside her head, the other sliding up the outside of her thigh beneath the skirt, asking for permission with every pause, every brush of knuckles against skin.
She arched toward him, whispering, “Yes… please—”
He pushed the silk higher, baring her to the candlelight.
The red skirt fanned across the deep burgundy velvet of the chaise.
Plush, tufted velvet caught every flicker from the lanterns overhead.
Built for dramatic reclining. Less ideal, Tyler discovered, for anything that required precision when urgency made patience difficult.
He paused with his lips at the inside of her thigh, already calculating the awkward angle he’d have to crane into if he stayed where he was. He lifted his head, meeting her eyes—dark, amused.
“This thing’s beautiful,” he murmured, “but it’s not exactly built for worship from this angle.”
Robyn’s laugh came out breathless, delighted. She propped herself on her elbows, the black lace choker shifting at her throat. “I don’t know. I think we can make it work.”
He considered the chaise for a moment, with its high armrest and the long cushion. Then a slow, wicked smile spread across his mouth.
“Turn over,” he said, voice rough with promise. “Face the arm.”
She didn’t hesitate.
Robyn rolled onto her stomach and pushed up onto her knees. She braced her forearms along the scrolled arm, cheek resting against the velvet, hips lifted—offering him everything, letting the furniture hold her so she didn’t have to.
Tyler exhaled sharply at the sight. Her dark hair had slipped over one shoulder. The garnet drop at her throat caught the light. Red fabric bunched at her waist, her skin glowing against the deep velvet like it belonged there.
He climbed onto the chaise behind her, then rolled smoothly onto his back, stretching out along the length. The chaise’s low profile put him exactly where he needed to be—face upturned, perfectly aligned beneath her without having to strain or navigate any awkward angling.
Robyn hovered just above his mouth at first—teasing, testing—then slowly lowered until she settled against his tongue.
Tyler groaned softly at the first taste, hands sliding up her thighs to grip her hips, guiding without forcing. She rocked gently, using the armrest for leverage as she found her rhythm. The chaise cradled them both, turning the antique piece into the perfect impromptu prop.
Robyn moaned, low and helpless, and the chaise creaked faintly under their weight. Every time she pushed back, the high arm cradled her chest and face, letting her melt into it instead of fighting for balance.
Tyler hummed against her, and the vibration pulled a sharp gasp from her throat.
He worked her patiently—thoroughly—until her thighs trembled and her breath came in broken, breathless sounds he felt in his bones.
When she finally came, it hit hard and fast, her body bowing over the armrest, velvet muffling the sound as she shuddered around his fingers and against his tongue.
Tyler didn’t pull away immediately, steadying her through the aftershocks while her breathing slowly found its way back.
She let out a soft, shaky laugh against the velvet armrest, forehead resting there as she caught her breath.
The red silk skirt was still bunched around her waist, the fabric warm and heavy where it draped over his chest and shoulders like a fallen curtain.
She shifted slightly, knees planted wider on either side of him, not quite ready to move away from the warmth of his mouth.
She pushed up just enough to glance back over her shoulder. Her dark hair spilled forward, framing her face in the lantern glow. “Your turn to breathe,” she teased.
Tyler rose behind her in one fluid motion, knees bracketing hers on the plush surface. The chaise creaked faintly under the shift in weight, velvet compressing beneath them. He kept one hand splayed on the small of her back while the other reached down.
“Still yes?” he murmured, thumb brushing a slow circle over her hip bone.
Robyn arched back toward him in answer. “Yes,” she breathed, voice breaking on the word. “Please… now.”
He sank in slowly, inch by deliberate inch, letting her adjust to the stretch and depth this new angle allowed. The chaise’s low height kept everything aligned perfectly.
For a moment, he held still, savoring the way she clenched around him, the heat of her, the way the red silk pooled and shifted with every tiny movement. Long, measured thrusts that rocked her forward against the velvet, the high arm cradling her upper body so she could melt into it completely.
His hands roamed: one sliding up under the corset remnants still loosely draped around her ribs, cupping her breast through the thin fabric; the other gripping her hip, guiding the rhythm.
Every time he drove deep, the chaise gave a soft, antique protest beneath them—and so did she, a broken little sound he was starting to crave.
Robyn pushed back to meet him, nails digging into the tufted velvet, the black lace choker at her throat rising and falling with each ragged breath.
He couldn’t stop watching the delicate line of lace against her flushed skin, the way her spine curved beneath him.
The angle was devastating, letting him feel every inch of her, tight and slick and still trembling from the first time.
He could tell she was close again already.
He could feel it in the way she clenched around him, the way her rhythm turned desperate.
“Tyler—” Her voice cracked.
He leaned over her, chest to her back, lips finding the nape of her neck. “I’ve got you,” he whispered against her skin. One hand slipped around to circle her clit again—light, teasing strokes at first, then firmer as her hips started to chase the touch.
The rhythm built; they moved faster, harder, the sounds of their bodies meeting echoing softly in the quiet bookstore. When she came again, it was sudden and shattering, body locking around him, a keening cry muffled into the velvet. The pulse of her pulled him over the edge right after.
They stayed like that for long seconds—him draped over her back, still buried deep, her braced over the armrest, skirt tangled around them both. The lanterns flickered overhead, casting warm shadows across the dark velvet and their joined bodies.
Finally, Tyler eased out slowly, pressing one last kiss to the curve of her spine. He helped her turn, guiding her down to lie against him on the chaise. Her head rested on his chest, legs tangled, the red silk settling over them like a blanket.
Robyn settled against him. “This chaise is officially ours now.”
Tyler chuckled, kissing the nape of her neck. “We’re going to have to buy a new one if we keep this up.”
“Worth it,” she murmured, already drifting in the warm afterglow.
The bookstore settled back into its hush around them, candles burning low. Tyler pressed his lips to her hair and closed his eyes.
He’d spent years making sure Emma had everything she needed. He’d forgotten, somewhere along the way, that he was allowed to need things too.
He pulled Robyn a little closer and thought, This, this is what I’ve been missing.