Page 71
Story: Tied
I take a step backward and wait for him to laugh or tell me he’s kidding, but he just stands there.
“Oh,” I say, blinking. “That’s unexpected.”
“You have no fucking idea. Last night was the first time I’ve seen her in years.”
I close my mouth when I realize it’s hanging open. “I’m a lot confused.”
He touches my cheek with his thumb and then quickly pulls his hand away. “Join the club, sugar. I’m a lot fucked up.” I love it when he calls me sugar, but my insides are all sorts of twisted up over him and his sister and how strange he’s acting. Maybe he really is sick mentally, and it’s taken this long for it to come to light.
“This is coming out all wrong,” he says, reaching up to tie his hair back.
“I hope so.”
“Let’s go sit.” He grabs my hand and leads me outside to the garden bench. Boomer and Poppy trail after us and look at us expectantly, waiting—just as I am—while he lights up another cigarette.
“Everything about you is driving me crazy. Your perfume, your voice, the shape of your lips, how you make me smile, how you look cute and innocent one minute, and all sexy as hell the next.” He swallows and coughs. “I can’t deal with this shit.”
“Oh.” I push my hair out of my face. I had no idea he felt this way. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I like it.” He takes a long drag on his cigarette. “Too much.”
I hang on to that space between himliking itandtoo much.The contradiction confuses me. Boomer nudges my hand with his black leathery nose, and I pet his head while I try to make sense of what Ty is saying.
“Is it possible to like something too much?” I ask.
“Fuck yeah.”
“I didn’t know that.”
He flicks the flame of his lighter on, then off, then on, then off.
“So last night… I met up with an escort.”
I narrow my eyes at him, my confusion mounting. “An escort?” Have I seen those on TV? I can’t remember.
“Upscale fuck-for-hire, basically. Like a high-class hooker.”
“Oh.” My vocabulary has greatly dwindled during this conversation.
“So I went to the hotel room, and the girl came in. And as soon as she started to talk, I recognized her voice.”
The puzzle pieces instantly form a vivid picture in my mind, and my stomach turns. “The escort girl was your sister?”
Nodding, he leans back against the bench and stares up at the clouds. “Yup. Seriously fucking embarrassing. Just my luck, though.”
Tears threaten to burst from my eyes, and my stomach roils. Intense jealousy, shock, fear, and sadness all clash inside me. Processing so many feelings at once is completely rattling. I swallow hard and let out a shaky breath. “Have you… been with an escort before?” If he says yes, my heart will shatter right here on this garden bench. The prince shouldn’t be doing things like that.
“No,” he replies. “Never.”
My relief only lasts a few seconds. “Why this time?”
“You don’t want to know, Holly.”
“Yes, I do.”Do I?
He smashes his cigarette out with his boot. “Because ever since I kissed you, I’m out of my friggin’ head thinking about what yourskin feels like. What you taste like, and how it would feel to have your thighs wrapped around my fucked-up head. Because I don’t want you to move five fucking hours away from me. That’s why.”
My heart catapults up into my throat, and a tingly sensation spreads from my chest down to my toes. His admission creates a battle inside me, and I have no idea which side will win. The fear of a man touching me and hurting me again? Or the desire to be touched, loved, and wanted? “Oh,” I breathe.
“Oh,” I say, blinking. “That’s unexpected.”
“You have no fucking idea. Last night was the first time I’ve seen her in years.”
I close my mouth when I realize it’s hanging open. “I’m a lot confused.”
He touches my cheek with his thumb and then quickly pulls his hand away. “Join the club, sugar. I’m a lot fucked up.” I love it when he calls me sugar, but my insides are all sorts of twisted up over him and his sister and how strange he’s acting. Maybe he really is sick mentally, and it’s taken this long for it to come to light.
“This is coming out all wrong,” he says, reaching up to tie his hair back.
“I hope so.”
“Let’s go sit.” He grabs my hand and leads me outside to the garden bench. Boomer and Poppy trail after us and look at us expectantly, waiting—just as I am—while he lights up another cigarette.
“Everything about you is driving me crazy. Your perfume, your voice, the shape of your lips, how you make me smile, how you look cute and innocent one minute, and all sexy as hell the next.” He swallows and coughs. “I can’t deal with this shit.”
“Oh.” I push my hair out of my face. I had no idea he felt this way. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I like it.” He takes a long drag on his cigarette. “Too much.”
I hang on to that space between himliking itandtoo much.The contradiction confuses me. Boomer nudges my hand with his black leathery nose, and I pet his head while I try to make sense of what Ty is saying.
“Is it possible to like something too much?” I ask.
“Fuck yeah.”
“I didn’t know that.”
He flicks the flame of his lighter on, then off, then on, then off.
“So last night… I met up with an escort.”
I narrow my eyes at him, my confusion mounting. “An escort?” Have I seen those on TV? I can’t remember.
“Upscale fuck-for-hire, basically. Like a high-class hooker.”
“Oh.” My vocabulary has greatly dwindled during this conversation.
“So I went to the hotel room, and the girl came in. And as soon as she started to talk, I recognized her voice.”
The puzzle pieces instantly form a vivid picture in my mind, and my stomach turns. “The escort girl was your sister?”
Nodding, he leans back against the bench and stares up at the clouds. “Yup. Seriously fucking embarrassing. Just my luck, though.”
Tears threaten to burst from my eyes, and my stomach roils. Intense jealousy, shock, fear, and sadness all clash inside me. Processing so many feelings at once is completely rattling. I swallow hard and let out a shaky breath. “Have you… been with an escort before?” If he says yes, my heart will shatter right here on this garden bench. The prince shouldn’t be doing things like that.
“No,” he replies. “Never.”
My relief only lasts a few seconds. “Why this time?”
“You don’t want to know, Holly.”
“Yes, I do.”Do I?
He smashes his cigarette out with his boot. “Because ever since I kissed you, I’m out of my friggin’ head thinking about what yourskin feels like. What you taste like, and how it would feel to have your thighs wrapped around my fucked-up head. Because I don’t want you to move five fucking hours away from me. That’s why.”
My heart catapults up into my throat, and a tingly sensation spreads from my chest down to my toes. His admission creates a battle inside me, and I have no idea which side will win. The fear of a man touching me and hurting me again? Or the desire to be touched, loved, and wanted? “Oh,” I breathe.
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