Page 34 of Filthy Lovin Heroes

He raised his head and squinted at me. “You have never met my manager.”

“I meant you could use the rest. You look pretty exhausted.”

“If I could get to sleep that would help.”

“That’s the worst.” I shifted my position so that I was floating on my stomach just keeping my cast propped on the tub edge. “I usually do my sketches at night when I can’t sleep. Just one of the many ways I’m done with this thing.” I motioned to my cast. “Counting sheep is highly overrated.”

Tyler nodded then he stood up, water streaming off him. I tried not to stare and failed.

“I’ll be gone for most of today. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Don’t let Hercules tell you I haven’t fed him. I’ll be bringing us back some dinner.”

He was out of the tub and gone, leaving a trail of wet footprints rapidly drying in the morning sun.

“Was it something I said?” I asked aloud, but there was no one but Hercules and me left to answer. He thumped his tail but remained in the shade.

For someone who made his living from communicating, Tyler was not much into conversation.

I was disappointed he didn’t ask if I wanted to come along. I wouldn’t have minded having a look around LA while he had his business meetings. But he didn’t offer, and it felt rude to ask when he was already going to the trouble of having me here. There were worse things than spending the day in a Hollywood Hills mansion.

Unfortunately, even in an amazing house, time dragged for the rest of the day. It was evident that Tyler didn’t spend much time here. A dog walker showed up twice to take Hercules out. From him, I learned that when Tyler was away touring the dog lived with West.

By the time Tyler returned, I had hoped he would be in a better mood. He had seemed so at ease at the wedding five years ago. All I could remember was his gentle nature and my abject misery. This broody man was familiar to me from his music but sharing a physical space with him was tenser than I imagined. Though to be honest, I’d not had any realistic idea of what the visit might really entail. Judging from the last twelve hours, my hopes were dying a painful death.

When Tyler did arrive back home, it was with a delicious take-out dinner. But he was his usual subdued self while I tried to draw him out. After dinner, he excused himself to practice piano. Though he was a vocalist with The Kings, I’d discovered two other music rooms today on my further exploration of the house. He had a whole room of guitars and one room held a baby grand piano.

I retreated to my room to organize my portfolio and make a list of agents to contact. I wasn’t going to use Tyler’s name to get me in the door anywhere. I would make it on my own talent. The sooner I could get this damn cast off, the better.

I’d started designing dresses for friends during college to make extra money. I learned to sew one summer when I was in high school. As a result, I’d become pretty good at creating party dresses. I could start that up again out here. LA had a reputation for endless socializing though you wouldn’t know it from Tyler’s solitary lifestyle.

I paused in my organizing, hoping to hear the sounds of Tyler’s music but this place was like a tomb. It figured in a mansion like this, his music rooms were soundproof. I refused to listen to his music with my headphones. I was living in the same house with the man!

That night, I turned in without seeing him again though Hercules showed up later. He flopped down next to my bed and soon was snoring away. It was comforting, though when I finally fell asleep my last thoughts were of searching for Tyler in a mansion full of empty rooms.

I woke up when I hit the floor. Or rather when I banged my arm on the thick rug. A cry escaped me before I was awake enough to realize what happened. The floor was so lushly carpeted, so I didn’t really hurt myself. I startled easily these days, and that was what made me cry out. Hercules’s solution was to lick my face.

“What’s the matter?” Tyler rushed into my room, flicking on my overhead light. He was wearing pajama pants but no shirt. My sore arm was temporarily forgotten when I got a good look at him. It was the same amount of clothing as he’d worn in the hot tub this morning but knowing he had been wearing it in bed made me swallow back a moan.

How had he heard me way down in his room?

“You ok?” He crouched down to me.

Before I had a chance to reply he scooped me up, careful of my cast. He held me in his lap on the side of the bed.

I winced. My whole arm felt like it was full of pins and needles now. I must’ve whacked my elbow when I fell out of bed. “How could you hear me down in your room?”

He waited a moment before replying. “I left the intercom on.”

He was listening to me in my room. Holy fuck. I tried to unscramble my thoughts enough to figure out if I’d used my vibrator and panted his name.

That was pretty much my usual nighttime routine back in Vermont.

I remembered I’d not unpacked the vibrator yet. Thank God.

Why had he been listening to me?

With just my panties and a tank top on, I wasn’t wearing much as I perched on his lap. Under my ass, I felt his dick harden. I tested that theory out by shifting slightly. And it twitched.

“I should let you get back to sleep.” Tyler didn’t move.

---