Page 70 of Resurrection
"I beg to differ." There's something genuine in his voice, a warmth that feels out of place in this dusty little room. "You’ll see."
"I'm a jilted single female entrepreneur who recently lost her father to a terrible illness. I don't believe in fairy tales."
"I’ll change your mind." He speaks with such conviction, it scares me.
"Isn’t it too late?" I’m more flustered than I'd like to admit because of his proximity. I feel his gaze pressing in on me just like it used to.
"No." The way he says it makes my chest tighten, but I play it off, pretending I need to organize one more pile of paper.
"I'm just a guy from the desert, Naomi," he murmurs, reaching out for my wrist. The skin to skin contact has my knees weakening. "You remember what that's like, right?" The way he leans forward, relaxed and confident, makes it impossible to escape his question.
"What if I don’t want to?" I finally meet his eyes, and every nerve in my body lights up. The moment stretches, neither of us sure who's going to be the first to break. And the distance feels razor thin.
"Give me a chance," he pleads suddenly in that bedroom voice of his, and I don’t know if he’s actually asking me or seducing me. It was always confusing with him then, and it’s even more confusing now.
I look down, then back at him. "So you can screw it all up again?" It's the closest thing to an olive branch I've got, and I half expect him to toss it right back at me.
Instead, he smiles that familiar lopsided grin, and I’m a teenager again, thinking the world belongs to us. He looks at me with an intensity that's impossible to ignore. His fingers are still wrapped around my wrist, and the dusty shelves fade away. We're inches apart, and every second drags like a slow, sweet note.
"Trial run," he whispers, so close I can taste the words. "No promises for now."
Sonia’s revenge advice flashes through my mind. If we’ve already started this game, then why not continue?
This time, I'm the one leaning in, and the first touch of his lips sends shockwaves through my entire body. It's gentle at first, a question and an answer all wrapped in one. His breath blends with mine as he carefully slips his tongue into my mouth, exploring. It’s not the tame parking lot kiss. It’s a real kiss between lovers, and it doesn't take long for need to take over.
His strong hands grip my hips. Then I feel them wander lower as they travel over the curve of my ass before settling on the back of my thighs.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
My body’s given up as he nudges me against the creaky desk.
Appearing to operating on pure instinct and need, Ty lifts me up onto it. I yank at his T-shirt to draw him closer. We don’t really speak. We just kiss madly like two starved people.
I feel everything—the heat of his skin, the urgency of his breath, the solidity of his body.
The desire to have him is overwhelming, the sweetest betrayal. It's as if we've never been apart, even though we're both different. We've changed.
We kiss until there's no space left between us and until all air is gone from our lungs.
That's why I've been staying away. Once Tyler Brady gets a hold of you, there's no getting away.
Revenge, Naomi. Remember?
My common sense snaps back in. "Ty?" I mutter, gently shoving him away as if someone’s doused me with cold water.
"What’s wrong?" He cups my cheeks and looks into my eyes.
I pull away so fast, the room spins, my heartbeat out of control.
"This can't happen," I say, even though every part of me is screaming for the opposite. I slide off the desk and straighten my clothes, trying to look composed when I’m anything but.
He's left standing there, his swollen lips slightly parted and his eyes searching for an answer I don't have.
"I’m sorry," he starts, but I cut him off, shaking my head and backing toward the door.
I bolt, leaving him alone in the cluttered room. The door closes with a loud bang, but that's nothing compared to the pounding inside my chest.
This plan for revenge will fail unless I manage to handle my emotions.
