The One Love Collection Read online

  My body goes up in flames as I rock against his tongue. As I glide against his lips. As I grind and dip against his face.

  He grips my hips tightly.

  I moan my pleasure as I let my head fall back, my hair sliding down my spine. This man drives me wild. This man adores me. This man knows how to take me higher and higher.

  I moan so loud I’m sure it’s criminal. I’m not ashamed, though, to be so vocal. I’m turned on, and I’m in love again. Love and sex and second chances have become the world to me. All those thoughts flood my brain, and then the pleasure takes over and I’m nothing but sheer bliss, riding him to the edge.

  “I’m so close.”

  And that drives him crazy. I feel him go faster, and then I’m aware of movement behind me. I turn my head, open my eyes, and find he’s only using one hand to hold me, because the other? Dear God. It’s between his legs. He’s got his fist curled around his cock, and he’s stroking. Rough, hard, needy strokes. The sight of him like that is a detonation.

  His need for relief, his need to touch himself while he gives me pleasure—it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.

  Another orgasm blasts through me, rocketing through my body, blotting out the world. Everything goes dark and black and wonderful.

  Intimacy was never my strong suit. It’s the bedfellow of trust, and that’s a tough one for me, too. That’s why oral sex was something I didn’t rush to try. To me, it’s even closer than intercourse. It’s the ultimate intimacy. To let go and give in.

  All that went against my instincts.

  But with Tyler, when we were younger, I was ready to try. Damn good thing, too, because I quickly learned I did not want to miss out on that special item on the menu. I took as much as I could get. I was voracious. Easily, it became a daily practice.

  Now, as I float down from the clouds, I’m ready to beg for it every day again.

  But I also want something else, right this second. I want another form of closeness. I want as much from this man as I can take. My appetite is endless.

  I want him bare.

  As I slide down his body, nearing his cock, I meet his eyes. They blaze with desire, heating up even more as I rub myself against the head of his dick. God, he feels so incredibly good that sparks fly across my whole body. “I’m on the pill,” I say, my breath coming fast as I move against him, wanting to take him into me right now. “Are you safe?”

  He swallows and rasps out a scratchy yes.

  I sink down on him.

  Trembles. Everywhere. Across my entire body.

  “Delaney,” he moans, and I can hear the sheer pleasure in every syllable of my name. His hands dart out to clasp around my hips. “You feel . . .”

  I nod as I breathe out, a long, lingering breath that shudders through me. “I know . . . It’s so good.”

  He pushes up into me, filling me. The waves crash over me once more. Every stroke, every second—it’s all my fantasies and more. Because it’s real, achingly real, as I ride this man.

  This man I loved madly once before.

  This man I’ve fallen in love with once again.

  “Look at you. Fucking me again. Your sweet little body taking me deep, my sexy angel,” he says, and I shiver from his dirty words. “This is where I want to be. Buried the fuck inside my woman. You’re mine, Delaney. You need to know that.”

  I nod, my breath coming faster as I rock up and down on him. “I do know that. I swear.”

  “Not letting you go. Not this time. Need you with me.”

  “Don’t let me go,” I say on a whimper.

  He pulses inside me, and he slides me up and down on his erection. “Love the way you move on me. Love how you want to fuck me so hard.”

  My body says thank you again and again, because this is the best high, the greatest buzz as I rise up, then slam back down. Tremors roll through me, and I swear I’m vibrating. Tyler’s eyes squeeze shut, and he grips me so hard, it nearly hurts. When he opens his eyes, they’re blazing. His voice is demanding. “On your back. Now.”

  In seconds, he’s flipped me flat, hiked up my legs, and draped them over his shoulders. I can barely move, so I surrender to him.

  “Fuck me,” I moan, as he begins to punch his hips. A bead of sweat drips down his hard chest.

  He shakes his head. “I’m not fucking you right now,” he says, as he slams into me.

  Another roll of his hips. Another shuddering thrust that sends my world spinning. His palms press hard against the mattress, and he lowers himself against me. “I’m making love to you like this.”

  I untangle my hands, rope them around his neck, and tug him even closer. “You are.”

  And then words no longer matter. Only bodies. Only hearts. Only this connection that faded over the years but burned back brightly as soon as we came into each other’s lives again. Stronger, better, more certain the second time around.

  Another climax claims me, rushing through my body, lighting me up.

  My cries flip the switch in him because he fucks harder, relentlessly, taking me, owning me, then finally finding his release inside me.

  When he collapses onto me, sweaty and elated, and asks me to spend the night, I tell him there’s no place I’d rather be.

  Even though when the sun rises, all I want is to leave.

  25

  Tyler

  I’ve been good at keeping secrets.

  I have a great poker face. If I need to keep something to myself, I damn well keep that shit locked up tight. I don’t mean dangerous secrets that eat away at your soul. I simply mean that when I was a kid, I never gave up the goods on what my little brother was getting for Christmas even after I saw a receipt for a new bike sticking out of my mom’s purse. Likewise, I don’t ever let on in a negotiation that I’m one step away from signing a deal, not until I need to play those cards.

  Last night, I was a vault, too.

  This morning, the cat’s coming out of the bag.

  I rise before Delaney, toss a fresh, clean T-shirt on the bed for her to tug on when she wakes up, then head quietly to the bathroom to take a piss. I wash my hands and brush my teeth, then put on a pair of boxer briefs. I walk to the kitchen, pull open a utensil drawer, and take out a few items I’ll need. Then, I whip up breakfast for my girl.

  Eggs, toast, and fake bacon, as well as a steaming cup of green tea since I know she prefers that to coffee.

  Soft feet pad across the floor, and she wanders in, sleepy-eyed with matted hair, but a fantastic morning-after smile on her face. My white T-shirt lands at her upper thighs and looks hot as fuck on her. Especially since I know she’s bare under it. She rises on tiptoe and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Morning,” she whispers, as her minty fresh breath floats near my mouth.

  I turn away from the pot of tea and give her a full and proper kiss. When I break it, I arch an eyebrow. “If I were president, I’d abolish morning breath.”

  “You so have my vote.”

  I gesture to the stool at the counter. “Sit. Eat. I made you breakfast. Your favorite. And I got you free-range, farm-fresh, all-natural, one hundred percent organic eggs. Actually, come to think of it, I even hand-picked the eggs from a sustainable local farm, and I met the hen in advance. Nice gal. Her name was Cluckity-cluck.”

  She shoots me a look that says impressed. “And did you thank Cluckity-Cluck for her services?”

  “I told her I was most appreciative,” I say as I slide a plate to her then set one down for me.

  She peers over the counter at the clock on the microwave. “I have a massage at ten. But that give us time for breakfast, and . . .”

  “I’ll take both the meal and the and.” I join her at the counter, and we eat and talk. It all feels so natural and right. I’m more confident than ever that there’s so much more to us getting back together than just the sparks in bed. But I need her to know that, too. I want to give her all the security I can. I want her to know this time is for real. I drum my fingers on the counter
. “Remember in my office when you said you were worried this was just sex?”

  She nods. “Yeah? Why do you ask?”

  “It’s not, Delaney. It’s so much more than that.”

  She smiles and swipes a strand of hair off her cheek. “I know that, Tyler. I’m good on that front.”

  But I want her to know it in a bone-deep way. I reach over the counter, grab the box I removed from the utensil drawer, and take her hand in my free one. “Marry me.”

  She blinks.

  This is the secret I kept last night. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I want to do this right. I want us to be together. I’m not going anywhere this time, and I need you to know that.” I say it with certainty, with confidence. And yeah, with bravado. She’s going to say yes. She has to. This is what we both want.

  Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Her irises go wide. Then she closes her eyes, and when she opens them, she regards me as if she’s viewing a disaster scene, taking in rubble, broken homes, shards of glass. “I don’t . . .”

  A seed of doubt roots around in my chest, but I shove it aside. This is my bailiwick. This is what I do well. I go big. And there’s no better reason to do it than to win her heart forever.

  Fuck doubt.

  I flip open the box, and the glint from the diamond ring shines brightly. So brightly, she looks away, like she needs sunglasses.

  But I won’t lose this one.

  I make my case to the jury. “I’m in love with you, and nothing is going to change that. I need you to know I’ll be here for you always. I want to prove that I’ve changed. Prove that I’m worthy.”

  She crinkles her brow, and her lips pull down. That looks distinctly like a frown, and my chest pinches.

  “Tyler,” she says, her voice soft but full of warning.

  “Yeah?”

  She gets off the stool and stands up. She shakes her head. “This is certifiably insane.”

  “Why?”

  She grabs her head, digging her fingers against her temple like she’s trying to process what’s happening. “We just had sex. And you’re trying to prove this isn’t about the sex. We just got back together. And you’re trying to tell me you’re going to love me forever. That’s insane,” she says, her words falling out in a mad rush.

  “It’s not insane. It’s right.” But my voice is the wobbly one now.

  “I’m not your next business deal. I’m not your next risk. I’m not your next chance to prove you can roll the dice and win. I’m a person. A woman. And I’m not ready to marry you. I’m not even ready to be engaged.”

  “Why not? Sounds brilliant to me.”

  She parks one hand on her hip then gets going, and I remember what a powerhouse debater she was in college. “Maybe if you’d suggested we get a cat, that might feel a little more normal. But this is twenty steps ahead of where we are. We need time. We need to keep getting to know each other.”

  “But I thought you wanted—”

  “Wait. Let me guess. You thought I wanted you to fix the past? You thought I wanted you to slap a Band-Aid on ‘It’s too hard to juggle classes and you’?”

  “But you said ‘don’t let me go’ when we were having sex.” My voice rises, too, as we’re firing back and forth at each other. Because I also have a fucking point to make.

  She holds out her hands like she’s making an impassioned plea. “I meant ‘don’t let me go’ as in ‘keep me around. Be with me.’ I didn’t mean ask me to marry you after barely one week of dating.”

  I raise an eyebrow, trying to get to the bottom of where I went so wrong. “Is this because of your intimacy challenges? Because it’s hard for you to trust?”

  Her eyes brim with fire. “No,” she hisses. “It’s because you’re doing it for the wrong reasons.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “What the hell? I thought this was what you wanted.”

  Her tone softens as she speaks. “What I wanted was a new chance to do this right with you. Not to blindly jump off a cliff to prove getting back together makes sense. It already made sense to me an hour ago.” She drags a hand through her hair and sighs heavily.

  “And now?” I ask, my stomach plummeting like an airplane that’s shot down.

  “I don’t honestly know what makes sense.” She peers at the clock. “I should go.”

  I suppose what seems to make the most sense to her is leaving. Since that’s what she does next.

  26

  Delaney

  #$@&%*!

  $@&%*! #

  @&%*! #$

  &%*! #$@

  %*! #$@&

  *! #$@&%

  ! #$@&%*

  I curse silently once more, alone in the restroom at Nirvana. I clench my fists, stomp my feet, and shake my head. I’ve got to get this morning out of my system. I have work to do. Massages to give. Clients to take care of.

  I take a deep, calming breath, then I bring my palms together in front of my chest and ask the universe to grant me peace right now.

  Or at least for the next sixty minutes, since my client Violet waits for me in the Rainfall Room.

  As I exit the bathroom, I tell myself I’m leaving Tyler in a trail of dust behind me. I won’t think about his absolutely absurd proposal. I won’t devote a moment’s thought to the utter insanity of him thinking we should get married so freaking soon. And I won’t let my mind get caught up in second- and third-guessing our fight.

  I shudder.

  That word.

  Fight.

  We fought like two bitter people. Like my parents. The thought sickens me. I hate fighting. I detest it. It’s not who I want to be. I should have done better this morning. Should have been calmer.

  With my chin up, I head into the massage room. Violet is in position, her raven hair spilling over her left shoulder, freeing her right one for some serious deep tissue work.

  “Hey, Vi. How’s it going?”

  She raises her face from the face rest and smiles. “I was a good girl. No iPad in bed for the last two weeks.”

  I pat her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. That’s great news.”

  “I broke the habit,” she says, as she resumes her position. “Like you told me to.”

  I drizzle some lavender massage oil on my palm and begin working on her shoulder. “Vi,” I whisper, astonished.

  “What is it?”

  “I can tell. You aren’t as knotted and tight.”

  “See? I’ve behaved.”

  I beam, and this is how I get Tyler out of my head. I focus on work, clients, and healing. This is the antidote to my morning. But even though we fought, my reaction was totally reasonable, wasn’t it? A proposal the morning after we sleep together is crazypants.

  Oh shit.

  I’m lingering on him again.

  I shoo him from my brain once more as Violet says, “What about you?”

  “What about me?” I ask as I dig my thumbs around her shoulder blade.

  “Last time I saw you, you said that you’d been trying to break the habit of thinking about your ex-boyfriend,” she says, reminding me of my own words. I cringe.

  “Right,” I say, guilty as charged.

  “So . . .?”

  I swallow and fess up. “Well, we wound up getting back together, actually.”

  Violet flips up on her side. “You did?”

  I tap the headrest, gently reminding her. “I can’t work my magic if you’re on your side.”

  “I know, but tell me stuff. How did that happen?”

  “I’ll tell you, but let me do it as I rub, okay?”

  She returns to her front, wriggling around till she’s back in the position.

  “Here’s how it started . . .”

  I rub and talk. Violet asks questions as I go. “So what happened after the wig party?”

  “We had earth-shattering, toe-curling sex.”

  “Yum.”

  “And I spent the night.”

  “So what’s the problem, then?”

 
“In the morning, things started to go downhill,” I say, and then I tell her about the proposal. “It’s crazy, right?” I ask as I knead my hands over her lower back.

  “Yes, it’s too soon to propose. He jumped the gun. He was pretty impulsive.” She breathes out heavily as I dig my thumbs along her spine. “But what if there’s a middle ground? Something in between you leaving and him proposing?”

  “But I didn’t leave,” I insist. “I had to come here and work.”

  “Sure,” Violet says, her tone understanding. “But to him, it might have felt like leaving.”

  Leaving.

  My chest hurts, a fresh, sharp pain.

  I know how that feels. To be left.

  27

  Tyler

  Carly pretends to toss a bone to the skeleton of the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

  “Good boy,” she says, clapping. “Look, Tyler. He’s chasing after it.”

  I point to the bone-retrieving dinosaur. “He’s almost got it. You can do it, boy,” I say as we weave through the lobby of the Museum of Natural History, one of her favorite places in the city.

  She also happens to be a huge fan of Night at the Museum, so this trip is a total win-win.

  The only problem is I’m not feeling like such a winner today.

  I’m feeling like one helluva loser. As we stroll over to the bison exhibit, I try to pinpoint where I went wrong this morning. Asking her to marry me felt so goddamn smart, so fucking strategic when I walked into Katherine’s jewelry store on Fifth Avenue after my drinks with Simon the other night. With one grand gesture indeed, I was rewriting the past. Repairing all the damage that had been done. A clean sweep.

  And I’d be keeping her forever.

  Or so I thought.

  I heave a harsh sigh as I rub a hand over the back of my neck. So much for my plans. I failed abysmally at assessing Delaney’s wants and needs. Proposing to her seemed brilliant. The best way to let her know I’ve changed. I’m not the man who walked away. I’m the man who’ll stay.