Just Surrender...

The air burned, her whole body flush with the heat, until he rose above her, putting a long distance between them. Those steady eyes settled on her face, studying her before he sighed again. Not so happily this time.

“Why are you here?”

Edie froze at his responsible tone, wondering if this was a trick question, hoping it wasn’t because he felt so good, so right. But, alas, all that goodness slid out of her. Alone again.

Foolishly, she pushed at his hair even though it was too short to be in his eyes. She wanted to touch the dark strands that hung low on his face. Wisely she knew that this wasn’t the time.

Dammit.

Edie sighed, not so happily, either. Although she couldn’t blame him. In fact, she should have expected it. In fact, before he had made her forget that she expected it, she had expected it. And prepared for it, as well.

Not so prepared now, are we?

She smiled her fly-by-night smile that said no big deal, and pulled out the standard Edie Higgins script. “We’re having a connection, a momentary joining of two bodies who have stumbled across each other, groping in the darkest of nights, moving toward some feeling of soulful humanity.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, rolling off her and her soulful humanity.

“Well, that is one way of stating it. Two animals copulating in a primitive ritual of procreation and species sustainability. Although the condom takes care of most of that.”

He turned his head, and met her eyes, and she hated the maturity there, the practical wisdom that saw past her words.

“Why are you here?”

Edie rolled to her side of the bed, her hands knotted in the ruby spread. “I wanted to feel better. That’s all. Sue me.”

The room was so quiet that she could hear the exhale of his lungs, the shifting against the covers, away from her. Rejecting her.

Slowly she opened her eyes, watching them in the mirrored ceiling above the bed, her eyes a little too bright, her smile a little too flip and her hair a little too casually messed. There were so many differences between them, so why did it hurt? Consistency wasn’t a fixture in Edie’s life—unless someone needed her for something. Everything in her life was part of the universal economy of bartering. Something given, something taken in return. Now Tyler wanted to disrupt her system. Tyler, the scrupulous keeper of scruples. Even without the trench coat and tie, he was who he was. Not the sort who traded favors easily. His chest was broad, strong. His legs reliable, the kind that changed tires in the rain. Legs that didn’t collapse no matter how much shit she piled upon him.

“I don’t want you to owe me.” His words were spoken quietly, but they were a lot better than what she had imagined. Edie rolled a few inches closer. “Why are you here?” she asked, curious what had finally broken him down. Wounded pride? Exhaustion?

Or Edie?

“It’s my room,” he answered, which was no answer at all. Gingerly he lifted himself on his elbows, scanned the velvety bordello furnishings and then collapsed back into the pillows. “I’d hoped it was my room. Is this my room?”

“For now,” she hedged, not wanting to say more, waiting for him to say more, which he didn’t.

“Why are you here?” she asked again, needing to know. People were simple, motivated by basic pursuits. They didn’t forgo pleasure easily. They didn’t forgo happiness—usually. Before she laid down her cards, he was going to have to have a little more skin in the game. The important kind, not the naked kind.

Tyler moved closer and touched her, skimming one gentle finger down her arm. It was a nice touch, but a careful touch. “I want this. I want you. For most of this night, I’ve willingly followed you through hell, panting like a dog. I imagined you above me, below me, surrounding me. I’m pretty much at the end of my rope.”