A Love Song for Dreamers - Piper Lawson Page 0,29
shove them down.
He swipes my cup before I can protest, inspecting the label. “Double espresso. Someone didn’t sleep last night.”
I grab it back. “I was up late,” I grumble, turning and heading for his office.
Tyler follows. “Not that late.”
He closes the door behind me, his shoulder brushing my chest and giving me a hit of that cedar and sunshine scent.
“It was hard to sleep in an unfamiliar bed with an unfamiliar person next to me.”
“Bullshit. You know every inch of me.”
He looks even better today with messy hair, second-day stubble, a button-down rolled at the sleeves, and dark jeans that hug his hips and legs. Tyler’s every bit the rock star, gorgeous enough to send legions swooning, but he has the credibility to back it up.
All of it adds to the frustration from my morning so far.
“Apparently I don’t know anything,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “I’m young and naïve and can’t be trusted with my own feelings, not to mention to finish a musical.”
I brush past him to put my coffee cup on his desk before taking a seat on the piano bench, setting out my notebook.
“According to who?” his measured voice comes from right behind me.
I close my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I need to work on this song.” I set my fingers on the keys but don’t press them. He waits me out as I count my breaths, my mind still spinning, my chest tight with anger and something that I can’t name.
“Tyler...” I start before he can leave. “I need to ask you something. Promise you won’t read too much into it.”
He doesn’t answer, so I keep going.
“Tell me you’re still attracted to me.”
Tyler’s heavy exhale is the only response for a long time. His hands find my shoulders, the bare skin revealed by my tank top.
“I’ll be attracted to you when we’re dead.”
Our conversation last night comes back to me in a blur of emotions, past and present and through it all, a kind of need and regret and impatient arousal.
I can’t fix the first two, but maybe I can fix the third.
I turn on the bench to find his belt at eye-level. “You said you wished things were different between us at the end.” I think of the times we were together, when I was hoping the physicality would bring us closer and it only drove us further apart. “Before you left for tour, you said you owed me.”
He lifts my chin to stare into me, through me. “And?”
“And I want to collect.”
The inscrutable expression is gone, replaced by heat and arousal.
“You want sex.”
“Yes.”
He wants a chance to make amends, and I want to prove I can handle myself. That I’m not some child who loses my heart at every turn.
But the look on his face has me second-guessing my idea.
“Tyler! Your coffee’s here.” Shay bursts through the door, and Tyler steps back. “I’ll put it on your desk,” she decides, smiling our way.
“Thank you,” he answers. “And Shay?”
“Yes?”
“Knock next time.”
Her brows pull together. “I did.”
“Knock and wait, next time.”
“Oh. Sure. Sorry.”
With a wave of apology, she ducks out, the door clicking after her.
I exhale hard. “I shouldn’t have…”
My words trail off as Tyler steps back in front of me, his fingers threading in my hair.
He’s living this as much as I am, his eyes darkening to whiskey mixed with earth.
It’s an answer. Adrenaline surges through me as I reach for his jeans, my fingers working on the snap. It’s not until the zipper’s halfway down that his hand closes over mine.
“Those weren’t the terms.”
“What do you mean?” My head snaps up.
“I didn’t owe you my cock, Six. I owed you my mouth. Take it or leave it.”
His words startle me. They’re a rough piece of fabric stroking across my skin, making me resist and aware of every inch of him at once.
We’ve been intimate, sure, but there’s so much we haven’t done. I realize that now from the way he’s looking at me.
“I’ll take it.”
I may live to regret it, but it’s the only answer I have.
Triumph flashes in his eyes. “Good. Spread your legs.”
My brows shoot up but I do it, my knees bumping the corners of the bench.
His hand is right there between my thighs, rubbing the seam of denim.
“These shorts look familiar.”
I bite my cheek to keep from moaning under his touch. “They’re from high school. I stopped short of putting on the Oakwood skirt.”
“Too bad. Would’ve been even easier to do this.”
I never thought of him being