Page 48 of The Space Between
Tyler.
Fucking Tyler.
I sit on the edge of the bed, heart hammering, skin cold despite the heat.
Then, I pick up the phone.
And dial. The first call is short. The Sheriff says he’ll get a copy of the recording from the school and will be by after that to fill out the report.
Hanging up, I make another call. Gruene answers on the second ring.
“Yeah.”
“It’s me.”
A pause. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
Another pause. “What happened?”
“Tyler called the school.” His breath hitches, but he doesn’t interrupt. “He said he was my brother and tried to confirm I’d be there next week.”
“Did the school tell him anything?” He asks. I can hear him moving around. He’s at the shop.
“No. But it means he’s not done.”
“You’re safe here, Blakelyn.” He snaps.
“Am I?” I ask.
“You think I’d let anything touch you?”
You just told me you regretted touching me.
I close my eyes and breathe him in through the phone like it’s the only thing holding me together.
“No,” I whisper.
And I believe it. He might be all fucked up about me, but I think he’s serious about protecting me.
“Then, go to my cabin.” He says. “I’m going to tell Reece I’m leaving, and I’ll be right there.”
I walk through his front door, and sit on the couch, waiting for him. Four minutes later, he comes in. He braces his arms on the counter. His shirt is stuck to him because he clearly ran up here from the shop. And tension is rolling off him like heat off of pavement.
He watches me as he kicks his boots off and rips his drenched shirt over his head. He drops it into the hamper and reaches for a clean one.
Ifeelit… the shift… the weight… thechoice.
I called him and he left work and ran up here… for me.
“Don’t…” He freezes and I nod at the shirt. “I need you,” I say.
Dropping it to the floor, he crosses the room. I stand.
He doesn’t stop until my back hits the wall. His mouth is on mine. His hands are in my hair, holding my face still, as his kiss tears the silence away one breath at a time.
We don’t rush. His lips cling to mine, his tongue sliding over my lips, seeking entrance. I gasp, parting them and his tongue glides over mine. Our kiss is an intimate dance that we never break as we strip the clothing from each other’s body. His jeans pool on the floor, along with his boxer briefs and he kicks them off. He gently pushes my shorts and panties over my hips, allowing them to glide down my legs, I kick them off, too. He only breaks the kiss to lift the hem of my shirt. My arms rise as he removes it, dropping it to the floor, too. Every piece of clothing is a memory we’re shedding. I unsnap my bra, and he slides it down my arms, revealing my chest to his hungry gaze.
