Taming the Storm (The Storm #3)(80)
Author: Samantha Towle

I shrug, looking past him. “Dealing. There’s a lot to figure out, but I’ll get there. I always do.”

“You will. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

He reaches out again to touch me, and this time, he doesn’t stop. His fingertips graze the skin on my arm. Heat sears into me.

I want and need him, but I don’t know what he wants from me. I don’t know what I saw earlier or what he’s been doing during the time we’ve been apart, and I can’t forget how badly his words hurt me.

Confused, I step back, away from his touch. “Don’t…”

Disappointment fills his eyes, frustration lining his brow. “Ly, the woman you saw with me earlier—”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” Fear hits me, quickly turning to panic. I might want the truth but not right now. My heart can’t take another beating tonight.

“I know this is the worst timing ever, but it’s not what you think. The woman you saw earlier is my sister.”

That gets my attention.

“You have a sister?” I’m relieved but surprised.

He glances around, like he’s checking for people. “Yes,” he answers, bringing his stare back to me.

“How did I not know—” I cut myself off. “Of course I didn’t know. You never told me anything about yourself, but then again, we were only fucking, like you said. So, why would you share? Now that we’re not fucking, am I allowed to ask if you have just the one sister or more? Any brothers? Pets? Do you have any kids I don’t know about? A girlfriend?”

I’m stepping into the crazy zone, but I can’t help it around him. He brings out the crazy in me.

“Just the one sister. No brothers. No pets. Definitely no kids.” He gives me a grim smile with his hands locked behind his neck, showing off the taut muscles in his arms.

Even in this difficult, fraught-with-emotion moment, my attraction for him flares.

“And no girlfriend.” He gives me a pointed look. “You’re right. I haven’t shared anything with you about my life…but I want that to change. I need to tell you some things about me…things I need you to understand.”

“Why?”

“Lyla…”

“No, Tom. Why do you need me to understand you?”

He shifts, his arms wrapping around his chest. “Because I care about you.”

“Oh, you care about me now. Funny, because only two weeks ago, you couldn’t give a shit about me. What’s changed?”

“Everything…everything’s changed.” He thrusts his hand through his hair, his eyes skirting our surroundings. “Can we just not do this here?”

“Here is as good as any place. You wanna talk? Talk to me here.” I’m digging my heels in. I’m being difficult. I know that, but I don’t feel like giving him easy right now.

“Lyla, the things I need to say to you are not things I want to air in public.”

Remembering who Tom is and how his life would be fodder for the press, as would be my own, I huff out a sigh. “Fine. Where do you want to talk?”

“My house.” He gives me a hopeful smile.

“Your house?” My first and only time there was our last night together. “I don’t know.” I retreat back a step.

“Just to talk.” He holds his hands up. “Nothing more.”

I run a hand through my hair, my fingers getting stuck in the tangled ends. “Okay…I guess. But my car is here, so I’ll have to follow you there.”

“Or you can leave it here, and I can bring you back to it later.”

I tilt my head, eyeing him with suspicion. “What would be the point of that?”

His eyes turn serious. “I’d get more time with you.”

My heart bursts out of my chest and wraps herself around him.

But my angry head tells me that he could have had the last two weeks with me, if he’d pulled his head out of his ass before now.

“Okay,” I acquiesce, handling my feelings. “Your car it is.”

I follow Tom over to the Range Rover, feeling a little surprised when he opens the door for me. Hand on my back, he helps me in. His touch burns through my clothes.

He doesn’t even try for an ass grab.

I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not.

Feeling rattled, I try to calm myself while Tom rounds the car to the driver’s side.

He climbs in and shuts his door with an expensive clunk.

Then, it’s just him and me in his car in the dark.

Suddenly, everything seems so much more pronounced.

The sound of my breathing, the thumping of my heart.

Tom’s breaths, his aftershave, the strength and size of him in this small space.

It’s all overwhelming me.

He starts the car, and the middle of that song by Bryan Adams starts to play.

The song that he said reminded him of me. The one I’ve tortured myself with for the last two weeks.

Heart in my throat, I glance across at him. I’m pretty sure my feelings are scrawled all over my face.

He reaches his hand over and gently touches my cheek with his fingertips. “I’ve been listening to it a lot these last couple of weeks.”

Speechless and on the verge of tears, I look away from him and out the window.

Twenty Minutes Later—Tom’s House, LA

The drive to Tom’s house was quiet. I spent the whole drive trapped inside my head, wondering what he wants to talk to me about and also trying to figure out what I want to say to him.

He pulls up outside the gates to his house. Using a remote, he opens them.

Watching them part slowly, my heart goes into overtime.

By the time he’s pulled up outside his house, my heart is attempting a cage break through my ribs.

Without a word, Tom gets out of the car. I unbuckle my seat belt and open my door.

Tom’s here, and he takes my hand, helping me out. My body jolts at the feel of his big hand touching mine, electricity snaking through my body, desire pooling between my legs.

No matter what’s happening between Tom and me, my body will always want him.

As I climb down, I see his eyes skim my legs, a flare of desire igniting in them.

I feel a shot of relief. It’s good to know I still have that effect on him. I was beginning to worry that it had gone. He didn’t once look at me in a sexual way since seeing him tonight at the hospital.

His fingers thread through mine, clutching my hand.

I freeze, my heart warring with my head.