Page 73 of Tyler's Rule
It was a test.
He passed it by not moving.
My lips touched his. A barely there whisper of contact, soft and questioning. I pulled back immediately, watching for any sign that he’d chase me.
He didn’t. His hands stayed braced on his thighs, fingers curled, his restraint tightening his muscles in his forearms and at his neck.
So I tried again.
This time, I let the kiss linger. Let my mouth settle against his for a slow count of three. Felt the warmth of him, the quiet hunger in the way his lips responded without taking over.
A breath shuddered out of him, rough and helpless.
“Okay,” I whispered, more to myself than him.
I kissed him again.
Longer. Deeper. Still slow, but now deliberate. I let myself sink into the sensation of it, the firmness of his mouth, the way he met me with reverence instead of urgency.
His lips parted under mine.
That’s when I lost my footing.
The kiss deepened naturally, not because he pushed, but because I fell. Into him. His steadiness. Into the safety of being wanted without being taken.
Time blurred.
I kissed him until my knees pressed between his, until my hands grazed up his shoulders and into his hair, until the world narrowed to breath and heat and the soft, helpless sound he made when I kissed him just right.
He kissed me back like he was memorising me. Still controlled and holding the line, but fully there.
When I finally stopped, and it took effort, I rested my forehead on his.
We stayed like that. Breathing. Trembling.
“We don’t need to do more.” His voice was wrecked.
Something in my chest loosened. I hadn’t been testing him anymore.
I’d been trusting him.
I slid my hands down to his chest, felt his heart hammering beneath my palms. “Come with me to the bedroom?”
Tyler followed my lead, the blindfold still in place and his hand out to feel the way. In his room, he waited beside the bed. Uncertainty stole a piece of my good feeling.
“I’m used to doing all the work. I don’t know how to do this for myself.”
“Guide me and I’ll get ye there,” Tyler breathed.
I tried to focus over the loud rushing blood in my ears. I needed more, and the next step had to be our clothes.
“Undress me?” I asked.
He raised a hand, and I guided it to the back of my neck, needing that warm grip. He caressed my skin, then skimmed down my spine to slide a finger under my top. He peeled it off me.
Tyler discarded that first item of clothing and felt for my hand, placing it on his chest. “Mine?”
I nodded, not that he could see, and helped him out of his black shirt. Nerves had my fingers trembling when I moved to his waistband. Tyler let me undo his jeans, then sat on the bed so he could remove his boots and socks. I got down to my underwear. There was nothing hurried in our actions. No urgency or demands from each other.
