Free Tyler by C H Admirand

thinking. There seemed to be a dangerous edge to him tonight. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time to test her theory right now; she had to get back downstairs and had to make sure Tyler did too. They were expecting a full house. She backed away from him, right into the broken corner of the vanity cabinet with her hipbone.
    She muffled her moan of agony; her hip hadn’t been right since she’d landed on it tussling with the Stalter brothers defending Jolene all those years ago.
    “Hey, are you all right?”
    His concern wrapped around her like a warm hug.
    She drew in a breath and ignored the ache. It’d go away sooner or later. It always did. “I’m good.”
    All at once, his demeanor changed until he was the man she remembered from last night. She smiled, knowing she was going to enjoy getting to know this complex cowboy.
    “Look, I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I can go back downstairs and use the sink in the men’s room to wash up.” He started to back up, but she scooted past him.
    Their bodies brushed against each other and her nipples saluted his amazing pectorals.
    Gazes locked, need clamoring for attention, neither one spoke. Words weren’t necessary. The tingles morphed into sparks that threatened to ignite the air around them. Emily wondered, was he the tinder or the flint?
    “Well,” she said when he continued to stare at her like she was a frosted cake and he was just dying to start licking from the top down until he could bite the sweet confection at the center.
    Lord, where did that fantasy come from? She shivered, looked up, and got distracted by the heat in his dark brown eyes. She was going to have to remember that one and see if she could convince him to act it out later. “I’ll, um… let me just get you a towel.”
    Shifting her burden to the crook of her left arm, she stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the linen closet. Fumbling with the cabinet door, she was finally able to open it, reach in, and grab a fluffy white towel. She dropped her underwear and tampon box on the shelf before bringing Tyler the towel. But when she tried to hand it to him, he frowned down at her.
    “Don’t you have a dark blue or brown one?”
    Now why on earth would he care what color the towel was? “You’re kidding right?”
    He shook his head. “I’ve pretty much stopped the bleeding, but I don’t want to ruin your towel.”
    Emily sighed. It would be a bit longer before she’d get back downstairs at this rate, but he seemed to need reassurance right now. “You won’t. Why don’t you show me where you’ve cut yourself?”
    “I didn’t.”
    “But you’ve got blood on your shirt.”
    He shrugged. “Widowmaker pushed me into the fence and scraped me up some, but that doesn’t qualify as a real cut.”
    “Please don’t tell me that’s the name of the bull you mentioned downstairs.”
    He grinned, and his crooked smile went right to the soft spot in her heart reserved for rascals and rogues. At least that’s what her grandmother had told her all those years ago. Granny should know—she’d married a rogue of her own. Emily watched the way Tyler relaxed once they were alone together and that niggle of worry eased—for the moment. Funny, when other people were around, he was more reserved and treated her as if they hadn’t shared the tender moment that kept her awake most of the night. But alone together, he let his guard down.
    “Emily!”
    Jolene’s voice had her looking over her shoulder. “Be right there.” Turning back to Tyler she said, “If there’s anything else—” Her voice trailed off as she got caught up in the desire plain as day in his velvet dark eyes. The desire called to her now, as it had last night, but was more insistent. She drew in a breath, felt her breasts pushing the bustier to the limit, and had the feminine satisfaction of watching his eyes glaze over. A definite mood lifter.
    She shivered. She couldn’t help it. She’d never been so