Just Surrender.... Kathleen O'Reilly
hated the maturity there, the practical wisdom that saw past her words.
“Why are you here?”
Edie rolled to her side of the bed, her hands knotted in the ruby spread. “I wanted to feel better. That’s all. Sue me.”
The room was so quiet that she could hear the exhale of his lungs, the shifting against the covers, away from her. Rejecting her.
Slowly she opened her eyes, watching them in the mirrored ceiling above the bed, her eyes a little too bright, her smile a little too flip and her hair a little too casually messed. There were so many differences between them, so why did it hurt? Consistency wasn’t a fixture in Edie’s life—unless someone needed her for something. Everything in her life was part of the universal economy of bartering. Something given, something taken in return. Now Tyler wanted to disrupt her system. Tyler, the scrupulous keeper of scruples. Even without the trench coat and tie, he was who he was. Not the sort who traded favors easily. His chest was broad, strong. His legs reliable, the kind that changed tires in the rain. Legs that didn’t collapse no matter how much shit she piled upon him.
“I don’t want you to owe me.” His words were spoken quietly, but they were a lot better than what she had imagined. Edie rolled a few inches closer. “Why are you here?” she asked, curious what had finally broken him down. Wounded pride? Exhaustion?
Or Edie?
“It’s my room,” he answered, which was no answer at all. Gingerly he lifted himself on his elbows, scanned the velvety bordello furnishings and then collapsed back into the pillows. “I’d hoped it was my room. Is this my room?”
“For now,” she hedged, not wanting to say more, waiting for him to say more, which he didn’t.
“Why are you here?” she asked again, needing to know. People were simple, motivated by basic pursuits. They didn’t forgo pleasure easily. They didn’t forgo happiness—usually. Before she laid down her cards, he was going to have to have a little more skin in the game. The important kind, not the naked kind.
Tyler moved closer and touched her, skimming one gentle finger down her arm. It was a nice touch, but a careful touch. “I want this. I want you. For most of this night, I’ve willingly followed you through hell, panting like a dog. I imagined you above me, below me, surrounding me. I’m pretty much at the end of my rope.”
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