Page 46 of Brown Sugar
Finally coming to my senses, I wrap myself up in the bedsheet and get up on legs that feel wooden. I’m wandering over to the closet when the door opens and Tyson returns.
He’s as relaxed as can be, his rippling bare chest on display. He’s wearing nothing but his jeans, like he’d been when he walked out a couple minutes ago. Clueless as to what’s happened in his absence, he holds up the bottle opener.
“Told you it’d be quick,” he says. “I had to be a little forceful about—Kiana, what the hell’s wrong?”
I shake my head to ward him off, though it doesn’t work.
Tyson’s too connected to my every emotion, every reaction. He picks up on how upset I am the second he scans my face and reads my body language, coming over to check on me.
“I’m fine… I just…” I stammer. “Tommy’s here and… and he wants me to meet with him…”
“Tommy? Since when?”
“Since he came bursting into my hotel room a minute ago.”
Tyson’s face creases in anger. “Into this room? With you like this?”
“He said it’s important. I have to go?—”
“I’ll handle it,” Tyson growls, setting down the bottle opener. His huge hands have curled like he’s about to use them and not his words. “Stay here. I’ll go find him.”
“No! That’s the last thing that needs to happen right now. Tommy wants me to go. Something tells me… he’s pissed because he found out what’s happened.” I let the bedsheet fall in exchange for the crop top I slip over my head and the pair of jeans I wiggle into.
Tyson’s hard expression deepens. “You mean between us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we were spotted out yesterday. Or someone from the label or the hotel told on us. I’ve never seen Tommy so angry. Wait here for me.”
“Your security?—”
“I’ll be going to the ground floor. I’ll be fine.”
I lay a gentle hand on Tyson’s tense, broad chest, rising on tip toe to kiss the underside of his jaw.
By the time I make it to the hotel room door, I can sense Tyson’s natural urge to follow me. Make sure I’m okay. Look over me in case danger’s looming. I throw him one last parting look from over my shoulder, then let the door drift shut between us.
On the ground floor, I step out of the elevator in search of the lounge Tommy mentioned. I find him by the window, peering out at the luxury hotel’s private garden. The red has faded from his face, though the energy he exudes is no less hostile.
As I take my seat across from him, he glares at me, like my mere presence is irritating.
But he’s not the only one irritated—I’m pissed by the entire situation.For once, I was enjoying myself. I was actually on vacation, able to do as I wished with a man who couldn’t get enough of me.
Tommy ripping it away so suddenly is enough to make me question my entire purpose. Is this the lifestyle I want?
The answer used to seem so clear. Now, I’m not so sure…
“What do you want, Tommy? Make it fast.”
He laughs, then sips from the bourbon he’s drinking. “This is my fault. I brought this on. I let you run wild for too many years. Now you seem to be mistaken.”
“I wish I knew—and cared—what you’re talking about. But I don’t, so if you’re not going to explain, then I’m going back up to my room.”
“The room the label paid for?” He tilts his head to the side, his annoyance breaking for taunting humor.
“I can afford my own room?—”
“Yes, you can,” he interrupts quickly. “For now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”