Page 8 of The Stranger

“On what?”

“Whether you’re a good teacher.”

He tilts his head to the side, a crease forming between his brows. “I don’t get it.”

“Teach me how to ride your bike. Maybe then, you can rot in bed … with me.”

Tyler’s eyes flare for a moment before they darken, and his lips curl into a devilish grin. He steps forward until only a few inches separate us.

Is he about to kiss me? And am I about to let him?

My heart slams against my chest, and I clench my fists on my sides, holding my breath and trying my damnedest not to whimper. His nearness, the sexual tension rolling off him, the undeniable magnetic draw between us.

“Your number.”

At first, I don’t know what he’s talking about. All I know is my mind’s about to explode with every minute he hasn’t closed the gap between us. Then, it hits me.

He’s not doing anything except asking for my number.

The disappointment must be evident on my face because he chuckles and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, making goosebumps pepper my skin.

“Don’t worry, little fairy. Your wish is my command. Just not tonight.”

Embarrassment and disappointment don’t mix well together, and I now have an unhealthy amount of both. Without a word, I yank his phone, type my number furiously, and hand it back to him.

Unable to think of anything to save face, I spin on my heel and power walk to the doors.

“Goodnight, Maura. See you tomorrow.”

My rioting emotions make me feel like an absolute mess, and I don’t trust myself not to say something scandalous again.

My steps feel wobbly, like I’m not sure how solid the ground I’m walking on is. The night began weirdly enough, but now this.

Once I step inside the massive glass doors, the concierge greets me, and I mumble a response. My head feels like it’s full of cotton, and there’s a sense of unreality settling over me.

Wet heat blooms between my thighs when I recall the dark promise in his voice.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

4

TYLER

Iam not a good liar.

When Erika asked why I was taking a day off for the first time since opening the studio eight years ago, I couldn’t not tell her that the reason was the girl she met last night. Erika didn’t say anything. She didn’t tease me or drop sarcastic comments like she usually did.

She did worse.

Erika smiled softly at me and said, “About damn time.”

I don’t even know what the hell that means. All I know is I have never looked forward to mornings like this.

I didn’t get much sleep last night. I tossed and turned and thought about why I didn’t find it unpleasant when Maura touched me—from the handshake to the accidental touches to the way she wrapped her arms around me.

It felt good, and touching never felt good to me. Touching reminded me not only of my father’s beatings but of all the times I was bullied in school and came home bloody and bruised. Backthen, I was the smallest boy in class and an easy target at that. I did have a growth spurt in high school and learned how to fight, but those early years stayed with me.

I still instinctively flinch when someone touches me—intentionally or accidentally. It’s the kind of prison I can’t get away from, no matter how hard I try.

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