Page 31 of Fatal Fantasy

“I did … but I don’t anymore.” I turn my head to the side, smiling as flickers of understanding cross his face.

“You’re my North Star, the brightest star I’ve ever seen, but also, the smallest, most fearful star, Stellina. I’d part millions of clouds just to see you shine,” he whispers, his lips hovering above mine, but I can’t kiss him, not until I confess what I’ve stored in my heart for him.

“I love you, Tyson. Just as much as I love Jasper, but you … you rescued me. It would’ve been so fucking easy for you to go back home, to leave me here and let me live with the choices I made. I don’t know what you see in me, but seriously, thank you.” I press my lips to his, allowing him to dictate our pace, but he pulls away, sighing as he looks into my eyes.

“When I look at you, I see my future. Those rings, last names, and babies you were talking about … I see all of that with you. I want all of that with you, and Massi, too. We are a family, the only one that matters,” he says, his words breathy and vulnerable, solidifying that whatever happened when we were apart is behind us, and we’re looking toward a future together.

Tyson has always been able to read my mind, to look into the crevices of my soul and pull out the pieces that need extra attention, but right now, he’s slowly restoring my faith that the girl who used to occupy this body is still in here somewhere – all she needs to do is follow his call.

Reaching on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck, a small smirk breaking across my face as he leans in, pressing his lips to mine, immediately tangling our tongues together while he palms my throat.

I’m shoved against the wall, droplets of water from his hair cascading down my cheeks, but I ignore the wet sensation, falling into the rhythmic pace we’ve created.

I’m remembering every kiss we’ve ever shared, the tender way his mouth works with mine shooting little pricks of heat on every surface of my skin.

It’s always been mesmerizing, how vastly different my boys are when we kiss, and this time is no different, even as Tyson moans into my mouth, his cock smushed against my thigh while I dig my nails into his back, encouraging him to let his inhibitions slip, to allow those beautiful sounds to leave his lips.

The world feels like it’s at hyper speed, the time we’ve missed flying by at a million miles per hour, forcing us to keep up with an impossible pace.

“Will you do me a favor?” I break our kiss, feeling lost and dizzy from the way he made my head spin around, but desperate to get this out while we’re being open and honest.

“Anything.” He rests his forehead on mine, the two of us sharing breaths as our chests heave against each other in an attempt to force oxygen back into our lungs.

“Don’t call it rape. I’m not stupid, okay? I know what it was, but when it comes to Vincent … it makes me feel better pretending I was doing it for the right reasons, like it led me back to you both. I’m not a victim, Tyson, I never was, and I sure as fuck won’t be moving forward,” I assert, rinsing my hands under the spray and rubbing my wrists, the thought of Vincent bringing a tremble to my bones that I’m afraid will never truly go away.

When I rub my skin, it’s a reminder that I’m still here, still fighting against the things that were meant to break me.

“You deserve to call it what it was though, Carter.”

“Maybe I do, but I’d rather forget it ever happened. Can we just … let it go? Please?” I beg, watching as he lathers a bar of soap, bringing it to my belly and moving in slow circles, being gentle and cautious not trigger my aversion to the spraying water.

“Did he hurt you?” He asks the same question he had last night, but my answer hasn’t changed.

“No. He was … ridiculously hard to please more than anything,” I joke, but his eyes go dark, not finding my sense of humor entertaining in the slightest.

“You have to understand that he needs to pay for what he did, right? Whatever you want to call it, wasn’t okay, even if he was kinder to you than someone else may have been,” he warns, the seriousness in his demeanor something I know better than to mess with.

Being bratty is one thing, but pushing his big red buttons is a recipe for disaster, something I’m not interested in doing for the time being.

“I know, Tyson.” I rake my hands through his hair, pushing the wet strands aside and caressing his damp skin, desperate to keep our connection open, every fiber of my body thankful to be reunited with one of the halves of my heart.

“Is this as far into the water you can handle?” He asks, lacing our fingers together as he spins me around, his back pressed against the wall while my shivering body rests against his chest.

“For now, yes, if that’s okay?” I ask, feeling small as he gauges my response, his pupils burning a hole into my skin, but he only meets me with the tenderness I’ve grown to crave from him.

“We’ll go a little further next time, baby girl. Come on, it’s getting cold.” I follow his lead, wrapping a scratchy white towel around my midsection and watching as he covers his wet body, tightening the fabric just above his pelvis.

Nothing would make me happier than staring at Tyson all day long, but we do have business to handle, kicking off a plan that I don’t have full confidence in.

The fantasy of running away is within reach, even closer than it was before, but I can’t let myself believe in the fairytale when I’m more convinced that it’ll be stolen from under us, just like last time.

The thing about reliving the same story, is that you have the power to change the ending, to give yourself a chance at the happily ever after, and I’m determined to rewrite history in our favor.

Maybe I can be the girl who gets the guys, after all.

FOURTEEN

TYSON