my bag, unsure what it would be like to spend the night with a man like Tyler, but now that I was here, it felt so much more natural than I’d thought it would. He was as kind and gentle as he was gorgeous and sexy, and I was going to enjoy every second I had with him.
I’d undoubtedly wind up with a broken heart because I didn’t see a way for us to be together, but at least I’d feel something. At least I wouldn’t be the emotionless drone I’d become since learning about my diagnosis. The worst thing of all was that I tended to feel all the negative emotions, like hurt, anger, and frustration. The good stuff, like joy and excitement, were rare, which made no sense because that wasn’t how bipolar was supposed to work.
According to all the research I’d done—and there had been a lot—bipolar was defined as an illness that caused dramatic mood swings and periods of mania followed by periods of depression. Mania was when people were essentially high on life, happy and excited and into everything. Depression, of course, was the opposite of that.
For me, personally, I hadn’t experienced much of that since I’d been medicated. I’d read that some medications made you a bit zombie-like, which was why so many people with the disorder went off them, but that hadn’t been the case for me either. I enjoyed a few simple things without being manic, like writing new songs or reading a good book. And I’d certainly been enjoying every moment I’d spent with Tyler. So I wasn’t sure if I had a mild case or if my meds were simply perfect for my body chemistry or something else. Because there was nothing in the research I’d done that accurately described my condition. If my bathroom quickie with Tyler counted as mania, it was certainly short-lived because that had been the extent of it. Which confused me even more.
For the most part, I struggled with not feeling much of anything, but I’d learned to do that on my own, purely for self-preservation and to protect myself from my father. I got angry and frustrated sometimes, just like anyone else, so none of it made much sense to me. My therapist told me it was because of the structure in my life, and how well my father took care of me, but her thoughts on the situation were a double-edged sword because I hadn’t liked any of my therapists over the years, especially not the current one. My father always chose them, so there was a lack of trust, and I longed to secretly find someone on my own.
The last few days had shown me that I could, indeed, experience joy and happiness without going crazy. There was no drinking, drugs, or any other telling behavior. I was simply relaxed and happy. For the first time in years. If this was what it was like to experience mania, I never wanted it to stop. Maybe that was a problem, but I didn’t see how what I was currently feeling could be a bad thing.
“You are by far the most beautiful thing in my bedroom,” Tyler whispered, walking up behind me and sliding his arms around my waist.
God, even his voice made me a little weak-kneed.
“Do you want me, Tyler?” I whispered, leaning into him.
“You have to ask?” He turned me to face him, cupping my cheek with his hand and leaning in to kiss me.
I could have kissed him for days, he was that intoxicating, but he took his time, allowing me to savor how it felt to be together like this. His rock-hard body molded to mine, and he slid one hand down my back to cup my ass, drawing me even closer. His dick was hard against my stomach, and he groaned when I slid my hand between us and cupped his erection through his shorts.
“You don’t have to be a gentleman,” I whispered against his mouth. “We only have a short time to enjoy each other—and whatever this is—so I want all of you.”
He kissed me like a man on a mission after that, his mouth capturing mine so completely I couldn’t do anything but kiss him back. He was all hard angles and expert hands, his beard lightly scratching my face as we kissed. I’d assumed kissing a guy with a beard would be uncomfortable, but I was so wrong. This was sexy and sensual and so damn