Chapter 23

Ten minutes later, by this time, they were finished eating, and he stood and cleared the table, rinsing off the dishes in the sink. Mary stood and hobbled to the bed. She sat and looked at him, watching muscles tremble under his sweater as he hurried. She averted her eyes. Since when did he know how to wash dishes? And he was doing it right. Wow, she was that impressed.

"Does it seem a little warm in here to you?" she inquired as he turned and furrowed his eyebrow.

"No, actually, I am all right. But you'll be too warm with those sweats on," he answered. "Especially since the floor is warm and the heat from your swelling will warm your feet, you'll be warm. If your feet or face are hot, the rest of you will feel it. If you want, you can wear something of mine. I've got extra shirts in my pack until you cool off."

She contemplated it for a second. "Well—"

"It's alright." Tyler got up, pulled open his suitcase next to the couch, and fished out a large white shirt. He handed it to her and helped her up. She went into the bathroom and shut the door. Mary held it up in the mirror. It was large, new, and fresh. She slipped off her sweats and her bra, putting the shirt on. It was cool and soft on her skin. The sleeves were too long, and she rolled up the cuffs. She buttoned all of the buttons, reaching nearly to her knees. She looked in the mirror and unbuttoned the first two buttons. There, that was better and more comfortable. She crumpled her clothes and emerged from the bathroom.

Looking out the eastern window, Tyler marvelled at the view below the valley. The cottage was built on a dominating small river down a small path, with trees all around, yards, and snow-coated grass everywhere. It was an unbelievably gorgeous neighbourhood, far from people, with the closest neighbours being numerous miles away. Hearing her come out of the bathroom

Tyler gawked. Miss Borthman looked sweet and adorable in his shirt! His little vixen had the first two buttons undone, and her nipples were noticeable underneath the cotton fabric. Her warm eyes were gorgeous and vivid, so fresh and innocent, and right now they were expressing a sweet longing that quickened his pulse. He shook it off and cleared his throat.

"Feeling better?" he inquired. Mary nodded. "Thanks! I feel good now." He helped her to the couch. She lay down, facing the armchair. Tyler took a cushion and propped up her ankle. She smiled and thanked. He kindled the dying flames, revitalising them. "Well, it's dark and windy outside; basically, if this were my cabin, what I would do is sit here with the fire going, the lights off, and drink. It's not fancy entertainment, but I found wine in the cupboard earlier," he said.

She laughed. "Oh, really? Confident? It's not even ours."

"Don't worry, I'll pay the owner over five times the value of the wine."

"That sounds fine, but I really don't drink that much. Even a little tends to give me a headache," she said ruefully. "I know, you are worse when drunk, remember?" He smirked, and Mary blushed, remembering what happened in the bar in Vegas. She smiled with the same intensity as he did.

"We can replace drinking with a conversation," he suggested. "No hangovers or headaches." She nodded. "But it's boring, yes?"

"Yes, but that's fine," he mumbled. He brought her a blanket and went to turn off the lights. "I don't want you to ask me for a divorce when you are intoxicated." He came back to the armchair and sat his large frame down easily. He grabbed a blanket and shook it out and over himself, his feet dangling over the footrest.

"Why? I know, we've been avoiding this talk, but it's been two years, Tyler, and yes, I don't have the financial capability, especially now, to file for divorce, but if—"

"Miss Borthman, I told you. I do not want to talk about it. Not now or sooner."

"Fine!" She sighed.

Tyler watched her shift on the couch, and she repeatedly reached up to caress a spot on her left shoulder as she shifted.

"Miss Mary, did you have a messed-up childhood or what?" he asked good-naturedly. She gave a short laugh.

"Nope, a little, before my parents died from the home onslaught, and my brothers and I have practically supported each other since then. How about you?"

“Brothers?”

“Yes, me, Dave, and, um, our little brother, David.”

He looked at her and said, “Oh! I didn't mean to."

"It's okay. My parents had a messy divorce when I was fifteen, and then they had a car accident. I lived with my grandfather for a while, and it drove me to the point of depression. I realised it and went to live with my grandfather since then."

She reached up and briefly massaged her shoulder as she asked, "You like the old man that much, huh?" She sighed.

"Yes," Tyler replied, hating to remember those painful childhood years. He had a great childhood. He had younger sisters, and they all got along great. They were all a year apart, and they always had the same friends and school, but they had an accident. It was a memory he didn't want to remember.

Tyler added, "Grandpa was always my best friend. He was good at everything. My childhood was pretty good, considering what a lot of wealthy families go through," he mumbled. He stopped for a second.

Mary smiled. "Not to pry, but I think you're not saying something," she said carefully. He laughed wistfully at her words. "I didn't know you had it in you. Prying for my life?"

"It's not like I didn't know about scandals and women in your life, Mr. Johnson, but this is your idea—talk rather than the wine. Remember?"

"OK! There was this girl in college. Her name is Elizabeth. We went out all year and planned on getting married after college, but I found her cheating with my cousin and I broke up with her. Then, years later, I—well, let's say I ended up in her bed again and now she was trying to hook me into marriage knowing that I'm the CEO rather than my cousin.

"The one who... messaged your phone and tried to hook you up with Siri's voice?"

"Yes." He answered and paused for a long moment.

"So she is the reason why you don't want us to get divorced?"

"Yes and more," he said quietly, eerily reading her thoughts. He looked up. "How did you guess?"

"I didn't. It's not that difficult to figure out. From the type of lifestyle you profess to steer, it sounds like you wanted to stay away from this woman. Well, I can't blame you. I'd do the same if I were in your shoes." She let this hang in the air while he pondered the seriousness of her opinion.

"I guess you're right." They didn't talk for a long while, the stillness broken by the rustling of blankets as she moved to touch the spot on her shoulder.

"Tired now?" he asked. She nodded in response, stretching and kicking off the blanket with her good foot. He saw the hem of his white shirt rise on her bare legs as she reached the spot in her shoulder.

"Is your shoulder bothering you?" Tyler eventually inquired, almost exhausted from seeing the repetitive action.

"Yes, a little," she mumbled. The purse was a little heavy.

"Would you like me to rub it for you?" He volunteered, eager for a change in the discussion.

"That would be great." She let down the footrest of his chair, and she dropped from the couch onto the floor. There was a vast area rug facing the fireplace, and he signalled her to it. She moved onto the deeply piled rug and faced the fire, her legs straight in front of her. He moved in behind her and straightened his legs around her body as she watched the cottage. However, the old oak furnishings were intriguing, in good shape, and rugged, as befitting a cottage. Mary wandered through the spaces, wondering what was awesome about them. Her belly was clenched in tangles, and she couldn’t dispel the feeling of excitement and warmth in her spirit. Was it because she was alone with her Las Vegas husband?

"Ok now. Where does it hurt?" Tyler asked. Her right arm came back and touched the sensitive area. He reached up and caressed the spot with his thumb. She instantly tensed, then moaned in delight. "Yes, that part."

"Miss Borthman, relax; I'm not going to bite. I'll show you how just loosening up your muscles can make some of the discomforts go away. Sit up straight, but let your shoulders down." Mary sat up and let her shoulders droop. She could feel him rubbing her neck and shoulder, kneading her, but the tension stayed. She didn’t like this physical contact because she couldn't help but moan at the warmth of his hands. Mary imagined; she listened to the noise of their hearts beating in perfect unison. He was everywhere, enclosing her and overwhelming her with his manliness and his tremendous strength. The feel of his body over hers was, honestly, very sensual.

Damn it! Mary couldn't help but mumble, and yes, she did, so fucking loud. She moaned about the sinful image in her head.

God, but he was horny. Tyler brushed her silky blonde hair from her shoulders, letting it filter through his fingers. He took his fingertips and pulled the collar of her shirt away from her neck so he could touch her bare skin. His breath caught in his throat, like molten lava moving through his blood as he massaged her neck slowly, earning the same moan he missed terribly, spreading warmth of eagerness and fascination of fire to pool low in a hard, throbbing ache. "Feeling better now, Miss Borthman?" He asked as he pressed his lips to her ear and rubbed the side of her neck with his thumb gently.

"Yes." She groaned. "Oh yes. Ahh, that's it."

Her moaning was not doing any good for his already engorged shaft. This woman was doing something to his senses, making him forget himself for a while. He hid his smile, knowing exactly what she was doing and what she was trying to avoid.

His hand came up to caress her hair, then moved to the nape of her neck. Tyler's lips moved over the back of her neck to find her pulse beating steadily, if a little too fast. His tongue stroked once, unhurriedly.

She moaned. "Tyler!"