I might have been better off not knowing what this kind of connection and love felt like, but even as I ponder that, it feels wrong. It’s a lie. How could anyone experience such love, passion, and connection, and hate it simply because it’s over? It’s like never experiencing the sun or the rain. Without seeing it, feeling it, you have nothing else to compare it to, and you are missing a vital experience.
You have to love and be heartbroken to truly live, otherwise you’re just drifting through life, not experiencing everything it has to offer.
I’m in the bathroom cleaning up my face when the door opens. At first, I don’t even glance up, but when I don’t hear it shut again…when I feel eyes on me, something spins me around. My mouth opens and closes as I meet those dark, familiar eyes. They are determined tonight, even if they are shadowed, and those lips I know better than my own are tipped up slightly as he stares at me.
His black hair is slicked back, his beard is trimmed and groomed again, and his body is encased in grey slacks and a white shirt. He looks incredible, and my heart instantly twinges, even as my pussy clenches, uncaring that he hurt me because it wants him. Always does, no matter what, because I belong to him, now and forever, my daddy.
We stare silently, just drinking each other in. It’s been a week, a week, that’s it. A week that felt like years, but now looking at him, it’s like no time has passed at all, as if we could just fall back into each other’s arms like nothing happened.
But I remind myself it did, it happened, and I can’t just drop to my knees before him and return to worshiping him. It’s awkward now. I don’t know what to say, what to do.
He steps forward, and the door shuts behind him, those dark eyes locking me in place. “Angel,” he murmurs, his voice dark and deep, that sensual tone that speaks of satin sheets, bodies coming together, and so much pleasure that I remember how good it was.
One word, and I’m his.
I’m weak.
“Tyler,” I reply, my voice hoarse and mouth dry. I wet my lips, and his dark gaze follows the movement, flaring for a moment with familiarity and need. I step back, wrapping my arms around my waist, trying to protect myself from him.
He can so easily break me, so effortlessly ruin me, and I would let him with a smile on my face.
“Are you okay?” he asks, looking me over. Even now, even after everything that has gone down, he’s worried about me. Always trying to protect me, to ensure my happiness and safety. I know he wounded me in a moment of weakness, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
It just means it’s confusing.
I hate this distance between us, this awkwardness, and in his eyes, I see the same feelings. Everything is usually so easy for us, right and perfect. For so long, we have been drawn together, pulled together by fate—or the universe or simply desire—but now that thread is fraying, ready to snap. One of us just has to be strong enough to cut it, because all that’s holding it together right now is pain and grief and what could have been.
“I could ask you that. Have you slept?” I inquire, genuinely worried.
He shrugs, rubbing at his face. “Some. It’s hard,” he admits.
“I know. I’m sorry, Ty,” I murmur, and he drops his hands. His eyes are glassy and shining with unshed tears.
“I miss you, Angel. I know I shouldn’t be here after what I did, but-but I couldn’t help myself. I’m weak when it comes to you.”
“You’re not the only one,” I mutter.
He steps forward, and I can’t step back, I just can’t. He moves closer again, almost pressing against me, and for a moment, I lean into him. I forget everything but the way he smells, the heat of his body, and the feel of his hand stroking along my cheek.
But Tyler’s love never just made me weak, it made me strong too. It made me think more deeply, made me look at myself in a different light, and right now, I don’t like the person I am.
“Ty, don’t,” I beg in almost the same tone I used when I asked him not to break my heart…but now I’m asking for him to not try and fix