Free Between the Sheets by Julie Prestsater Page A

say even
though he’s standing before me in some soccer shorts and a Hurley
t-shirt. My imagination is wild enough that it doesn’t
matter.
    “ What’s going on in that
head of yours?” He cups my chin in his palm, and tilts my head
up.
    A smile spreads over my face. “I’m not
tired anymore.”
    “ No?”
    “ No.” I reach out, grasping
the back of his knee and dragging my fingernails under his shorts
and up the back of his thigh. “I’m wide awake. You?” My hands
travel around his legs to his rock hard quads. My breath quickens
when the length of his shaft pulses against the thin piece of
material that covers his flesh. I allow myself to explore and
discover this man is not wearing any boxers. “Free
ballin’?”
    “ Commando’s the way to go
at home,” he says, smoothing his hand over my hair. “Let’s get
ready for bed. Then, I can help you get tired out
again.”
    “ Sounds good.” I rise to my
feet and circle my arms around his waist. “You go first. I’m gonna
grab my bag and unpack some stuff first.”
    “ I already brought it in.”
He gestures toward the door and sure enough, my things are sitting
there waiting for me. “I cleared some space for you in my dresser
so you wouldn’t have to live out of a suitcase. The whole top row
is free. I also moved all my stuff from the counter in the bathroom
so you can take up as much space as you need there.”
    “ Thank you, Ty. I
appreciate it.”
    “ Are you surprised?” He
smiles.
    “ No.”
    “ Yeah right. I bet you
thought it was going to look like a frat house in here.”
    The thought had crossed my mind. He’s
a bachelor. And he lives alone. After Nick left, I didn’t feel the
need to keep my house as tidy as I did before. Granted, the extent
of my messiness is leaving a glass of wine in the sink or a pair of
heels next to the couch in the living room. But Tyler’s a guy and
he’s an artist. I’m surprised paint, clay, and whatever else he
uses isn’t splattered all over the place.
    “ See.” He points a finger
at me. “I knew you thought I’d be living like a slob.”
    “ I did not.”
    He folds his arms over his
chest.
    “ Okay. Maybe a
little.”
    “ I have a confession to
make.” A grin forms on his lips. “I did have to do a little spring
cleaning. But nothing too drastic.”
    “ You know what I haven’t
seen and I’m surprised?”
    He raises a brow. “What’s
that?”
    “ Your artwork? Your
supplies? I noticed a couple of your pieces in the living room, and
the painting in the hall, but where’s the rest of your
stuff?”
    A full blown smile lights up his eyes.
“How do you know those pieces are mine?”
    I place my hands on my hips.
“Really?”
    “ Yeah.” He chuckles. “How
do you know?”
    He knows the answer to his own
question but I’ll play along. “I don’t know. Just looks a little
amateur. Like something you’d do,” I tease.
    He clicks his tongue at me. “I’m not
an amateur.”
    I smack his arm. “I’m kidding with
you,” I say, placing my palms flat against his chest. “I’d never
forget that tug of war painting.” He smiles down at me and then
presses a kiss to my forehead. “That’s when you first started your
infatuation with hands. And I loved it. It still amazes me that you
were able to capture such high school angst at such as young age.
It’s something I’d expect you to do now as a teacher, not when you
were a teenager yourself.”
    His smile fades and his expression
turns serious. The intensity worries me. “What, Ty?”
    There’s silence for another breath
before he cups my face in the palms of his big hands and bends down
to kiss me. His lips brush softly against mine, and then he
murmurs, “I love you, Melissa. I always have.”
    His words linger in the air as I close
my eyes, trying to determine if he really said what I thought I
heard, or if I just imagined it. “Say it again.”
    “ I love you.” His mouth
covers my own and desire spreads through my body