Page 97 of Severed Heart
“Mom,” I croak, the fissure in my heart widening as her eyes do in alarm.
“Normally, I’d tap into my patience here,” she says, raking my expression, “but I’m terrified, so spit it out.”
“I need your help,” I whisper, hearing the mournful timbre in my voice.
“Anything,” she says, “anything. Talk to me.”
“If I do, not a breath of this conversation is to make it an inch outside of the garage or to anyone else, and I meananyone. Not ever.”
“You have my word, please,” she assures, the concern in her voice increasing tenfold. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
“This isn’t about me,” I assure her, choking on the ache in my chest as my eyes start to burn, “this is about the woman I’m in love with.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
DELPHINE
“MON DIEU!”My God, I exclaim as Tyler stalks into my bedroom with a toolbox and stepladder as water pours from my bathroom ceiling. “I’m sorry, Dom is at the library,” I add hastily. “I maybe should have called a plumber—”
“No need to insult me.” He gives me the wink I love. “I’mtheproblem solver and have been known to be pretty good with my hands,” he emits in a low rumble, waggling his brows.
“Imbecile,” I roll my eyes, unable to help my smile.
“Well, good afternoon toyou too, General,” he says, surveying the leak. “Hate to say I told you so—”
“You love telling me so,” I scoff, “and a new roof is very expensive.”
“Nothing a simple call to France couldn’t remedy, but we can argue about thatlater,” he says before setting his toolbox on the sink and opening his stepladder, his hair and T-shirt damp from the ongoing storm. After placing the ladder in the tub, he reaches the top just as the sagging ceiling gives way, instantly soaking him. Laughter bursts out of both of us as he comically steps right back down, his mirth-filled, warm brown eyes meeting mine. Dark brown hair drenched, water drips from his long lashes. At the sight of it, a stirring hits me as my eyes continue to trace the droplets trailing down his jaw and Adam’s apple.
When did it become this pronounced? And his lips...so full.
I’ve noticed the smaller changes in him in our time together, but they’ve started to add up dramatically in recent months. The beautiful boy who approached me years ago with shadows in his eyes is starting to look more and more like a beautifulman.
“Well, shit,” Tyler says, jerking me from my thoughts while surveying his soaked clothes. Grinning, he shakes off the excess water like a wet dog as I scold him, jumping back.
“Real hand man,” I joke, shaking my head. “I’ll grab you a shirt from Dom’s room.”
“That’shandyman... don’t scowl at me. You told me to start correcting you,” he chuckles. “And I never proclaimed to be aprofessional,” he taunts as I turn and hurry across the hall, opening a few of Dom’s drawers before pulling out a black T-shirt. When I return to the bathroom, I’m stopped short by the sight of a shirtless Tyler, his head now in the gaping hole in my bathroom ceiling. The view from my vantage point utterly paralyzing.
My eyes sweep him from his boots to the powerful thighs straining against the denim—which hangs threateningly low on his hips. He’s utterly etched in muscle, with deep lines on either side of his abdomen. His trim waist creating a small gap at the button of his jeans. The ridges in his stomach are heavily defined, with pebbled sinew on either side, leading up to a broad chest that looks cut from stone.
So muchdifference in him.
Should I feel this much guilt to appreciate the beauty of my best friend? Shame provides the answer as quickly as it did when I began asking.
“Definitely a roof leak,” Tyler shouts, jerking me out of my appreciation for his efforts as he calls out to me, thinking I’m out of the room. With that knowledge, I continue to allow myself to feast. Ancient stirrings fuel my thirsty eyes, reminding me of the days I felt such desire.
My thirst only grows as I imagine gaining access to explore his body, tracing every inch of his etched skin with my—
Delphine!
Briefly, I entertain retreating to Dom’s room to scrub my eyes—my mind—of such thoughts of him. Instead, I’m slammed back into the moment as I become aware of a return stare. A very, very intent return stare. And in the eyes peering back at me ...
Molten brown flames roar, blazing a path straight into me. The hellfire of desire inside them consuming and cleansing my insides with overwhelming ferocity as I inhale a sharp breath.
Mon Dieu!
Unsure of my own expression, I stumble forward, holding Dom’s shirt out and shaking it for Tyler to take so I can release myself from our paralyzing connection. But it’s Tyler’s fire that refuses to free me, the look in them all too familiar—the predatory hunger inside naming me prey. And I feel it, weakening me as I begin to shake with the force of it, willing myself to speak, to snap his debilitating hold even as my body responds.
