Page 93 of Severed Heart (The Ravenhood Legacy #2)
Chapter Forty-Nine
D ELPHINE
“T -TYLER, S-STOP !” I shout through my hysterical laugh as he pins me to the blanket, blowing on my stomach as I do my best to push him from me. And as usual, my efforts are futile because his strength is astounding.
“Non, stop, mercy, please!” I wail as he adds wiggling fingers to my sides, his villainous chuckle filling my ears as he increases the powerful vibration along my stomach.
“S-stop r-right now, you asshole!” I screech, pounding on his shoulders as agitated laughter erupts from me, and my head scrambles due to overstimulation. “Stop, p-please stop before I p-pee or fart! It’s ... is not sexy!”
Tyler instantly throws his head back, laughter bursting from his every pore as he peers down at me with twinkling eyes before it finally slows.
“So, it’s true? Women fart? I thought that was a myth ... and now I have to know!” He lowers and blows against my skin as I frantically slap his chest.
“Stop-p fruiting me right f-fucking n-now, or I swear to God, I will kick your balls so hard you can’t fuck for a month! ”
He pulls back, his face contorted as he chortles and snorts, barely getting his words through it. “F-f-fruiting you? Did you say stop fruiting you?” He runs his fingers up my sides as I slap his hands.
“O-o-oui, you d-damned imbecile,” I manage, “that’s w-what you called it, fruiting!”
Raucous laughter bursts from him, bellowing down the hillside we’re perched upon as tears form in the corners of his eyes. I scowl up at him where he hovers above me, his outburst taking several seconds to tame until he can finally speak.
“B-baby—” he barks out another laugh before continuing, “It’s called b-blowing raspberries , not fruiting .”
When his amusement temporarily has him loosening his firm hold, I use it to my advantage, wiggling out of his grip before rolling out of reach.
I’m nearly free of the blanket when he easily captures me by the ankle, pulling me back beneath him.
As he gazes down at me, I refuse to meet his eyes, going utterly limp as I speak in defeat.
“No matter what it’s called, I hate it now, and you will get nothing more from me today, Soldier. You are pissing me off!”
“Whoa,”—his eyes widen—“hey, hate is a strong word, General, but I’m sorry I went too far. No more fruiting today,” he jokes.
“Well, I don’t trust you,” I counter.
“It stops now, I promise... but I’ll get no more from you today, huh?
You sure about that? That’s a pretty strong declaration,” he muses, running his warm palm under my sweater, over my belly, and up to the lace covering each of my breasts.
Lace that I loaded my cart with on my last lady date with Layla.
Lace that Tyler made very clear he loved, by words and demonstration.
Unable to help myself as recent memories flit in, I stare back up at him, wrapping my hands around his neck.
“Fine, maybe I don’t hate it, but you’ve given me no choice. I need a word of safety with you, now .”
“A safe word, huh?” He grins.
“Oui,” I say, catching my breath, “because you are a brute with even less manners than me. I need to have a word that saves me . A word where you cease all raspberries assault and have mercy because it’s evident ‘no’ and ‘non’ do not work with you”—I narrow my eyes at him—“imbecile.”
“How about fruiting?” he suggests through a chuckle and an added dimple pop.
“Oh, fuck you .” I roll my eyes.
“Oof.” He frowns, his stinging eyes gripping mine as I sink at the sight of them.
“What, what is it?”
“I don’t know ... I guess ‘fuck you’ is pretty brutal even in jest,” he says, “how about we save that particular brash for really nasty fights?” He whispers his finger along my cheek. “Maybe so I’ll know just how badly I fucked up.”
“I’m sorry.” I palm his jaw. “I didn’t know it would bother you this way.”
“Me neither, and it’s okay, beautiful, really. I can handle any brash you toss my way, and you know it.” His grin returns. “But if I’ve aggravated you to the point of ‘ fuck you,’ I’ve obviously gone too far.” His expression turns so sincere that my heart melts at the sight of it.
“But just so you know,” he emits so softly it’s barely above a whisper, “your laughter ... does good things to me.”
“What does it do?” I ask, utterly captivated, as the world blurs around him like it so often does now.
“So, we’re fishin’ for compliments, are we?” He winks.
“Ah, finally, ” I draw out, “a metaphor so easily interpreted”—I roll my eyes—“it only took you eight plus years to deliver.”
“Yeah, maybe,” he says, his voice mournful, his expression dimming, “but it took us so long to get here.”
Just as he relays that, a rush of wind carries a flurry of foliage from the trees atop the hill along its wake, which rains briefly down on us.
Cool leaves start to land on our faces and hands, covering some of our blanket.
Taking our cue to take notice, we both scan the orchard, inhaling the crisp air and soaking in the deep green hillsides.
Temporarily mute, we gaze upon the enchanted land as peace settles over us both.
“For me,” he says after a few long minutes, pulling my focus back to him. “The wait has been worth it, Delphine,” he adds before biting his lip thoughtfully.
“For me, too,” I whisper. “So worth it ... I just wish it wasn’t so painful.”
“If you want more honesty,” he relays, tearing at some grass at the edge of the thick blue quilt he bought just for today, the low sun glinting off his lengthening brown hair.
Hair which is long enough now to wrap around my fingers.
The slight curl I love back. One I beg him not to cut, which he doesn’t, just for me.
“I always want honest,” I tell him, soaking in his every feature and expression.
He brings his eyes to mine. “Your laughter heals me.”
“Tyler,” I croak, tears threatening as I palm his jaw. “Then I don’t hate it at all . You can fruit me anytime you want.”
“You would endure that for me?” he jokes, but I don’t smile as I speak from my heart.
“I would do absolutely anything for you, Soldier.”
His return stare intensifies as he absorbs my words before he speaks again.
“You know I saw this for us years ago, before we ever touched each other, got intimate,” he rasps out, eyes briefly losing focus.
“I saw this in my mind. Days exactly like today, on this hillside, talking to you, making love to you on a blanket just like this one. Over the years, I’ve imagined dozens of similar moments, in every kind of weather”—he swallows—“the two of us together and happy.”
“I did, too,” I whisper. “I swear I did, too . Especially when you were gone,” I admit. “I dreamed of this every day after you left.”
“The mind is a powerful thing,” he relays softly.
“Such a fucking powerful thing. Our thoughts are so convincing that if we focus on one of them often enough, we eventually start gravitating to act on it. Taking actions consciously and subconsciously to make whatever that focus is and make it a reality. Manifesting is what most people call it, but it’s not all magical.
” He tosses the grass. “It seems so simple, but in sorting and deciphering an average of fifty thousand thoughts a day , it can get dangerous and complicated. Fixating on the wrong thoughts can make it the opposite of simple,” he relays with an ache in his voice.
“No, it’s not simple”—I take his hand—“and I need you to realize I do know how hard I made it for us to get here. I don’t expect you to, Soldier, but I do hope that one day you forgive me for that.”
He stares back at me again for a long moment as he strokes my skin, always touching me, forever affectionate, and I can’t get enough. Pulling back slightly, he lets out a long exhale before he speaks.
“As much as I’ve fucking fought it those years ago—insisting and practically demanding that you believe our age difference didn’t mean shit—the truth is, it’s the very thing that kept us apart, isn’t it?”
“Not the only thing, but oui.”
“I was a kid, a fucking teenager making promises to you that probably seemed over the top, but I swear I didn’t feel that way. I didn’t feel like a kid. I meant them. I wanted to mean them, keep them.”
“I know, Soldier.”
“But that’s not why I’m at peace with it.”
“You have made peace?” My heart lifts with hope.
“Yeah, baby ... I think I just did in this moment, with you, and here’s why in all its fucking painfully simple splendor—I was eighteen .”
My eyes water, and I nod.
“And now that I’m around the age you were when we got started—I can see why you would doubt my words and fear for my future, thinking you would hold me back from whatever path you hoped and help to pave for me.
As much as it pains me to admit that.” He gently shakes his head.
“Jesus, the distance in perspective from then to now. Of what’s happened, of the amount of life I’ve lived during all those fucking blinks, Delphine. ”
“So, you forgive me?”
“For what? I’m the one who didn’t keep my promise. I let you go without any real fight. You were right, you did reach out, and I didn’t. Honestly, I should be seeking your forgiveness.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” I relay adamantly.
“That’s not true though, is it?” He rakes his lower lip again as he stares over at me, trepidation littering his expression. “I don’t know if I can handle this answer, but I have to fucking ask it.”
“Please don’t,” I utter, knowing his question.
“So, it’s true?” He swallows. “You gave up the night I didn’t cross that fucking street.”
“That is not so simple either, Tyler. Please—”
“Jesus.” He shakes his head, his expression one of devastation. “If I would have come back that night. Or the next fucking day. Or any fucking day after, I would have found you waiting for me, wouldn’t I?”
I bite my lip, refusing to answer but he sees it.