Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(77)

“You okay?” Tyson asked.

Syria still didn’t move her arm. This was sort of impossible, wasn’t it? Fun, but how could it go on? She was an Oklahoma girl who hadn’t even had sex until she was twenty. She knew nothing about polyamory or alternative lifestyles or how to undo a quarter century of Bible belt upbringing. Or if she should.

“Syria. Hey. Look at me.”

She let her arm fall on the bed and turned her head to the video. Suddenly this seemed ridiculous. Tyson was in Seattle. She was having sex with some girl just to titillate him. She jerked at the bedspread and brought it around her body.

Tyson was holding the camera close now, framing his face. The stubble across his angled jaw was longer than usual and his gray eyes were on the blue side today, probably picking up something in the room. She’d never seen his room. Probably never would. She couldn’t afford to fly up there and he made no mention of bringing her. Maybe he even lived with someone, several someones. She didn’t know anything and was too scared to ask.

“Damn it, I wish I could hold you in my arms right now. What got to you?” He looked stricken. “I shouldn’t have encouraged Mia. She likes to show off.”

Syria couldn’t find any words. She just shrugged.

“Hey. You were amazing. You’re like my dream girl.”

Syria hugged the bedspread closer to her.

“I am surrounded every day by all these overeager women, using me to make them feel something they know is missing. And here YOU are, exactly the thing we’re all looking for.”

Syria shook her head. “I’m not anything.”

“Yes, you are! You’re wide open to the things around you, willing to try anything. Open to love and friendship and sex and fun. It’s an amazing thing to see. You’re living life on full throttle. Do you know how hard that is to do? And how many wish they could do it?”

“You’re so far away,” Syria managed to get out. “I am only this way because of you.”

“No, you’re this way because of who you are.”

“Right, shy like my mother, promiscuous like my father.”

“No. Deep like your mother, willing to fall like your father.”

Syria brushed her hair out of her face. “I want to find him. I want to see what he is like.”

“We’ll let’s do that. After Christmas. We’ll look.”

“I can’t go to India.”

“It’s your quiet season, right?”

“Sure.”

“It’s mine too. But we don’t actually have to go there. Not unless we find him. We live in the information age. We’ll track him down.”

Syria sat up. “Maybe.”

“We’ll start at the ashram where they met. See if they have records. Search outward.”

Syria nodded. Suddenly she felt terribly tired. “We can talk about it when you come down for Christmas,” she said. They had planned on spending several days together before Syria flew out to see her mother.

His face darkened. “I had to rearrange my schedule to come up and see you last weekend,” he said. “One of my clients changed her party just for me. I have to accommodate her.”

Syria’s heart fell to her stomach. “Okay.”

“It was my only gap. It gets sort of crazy busy at Christmas in my line of work.”

“Right. Santa strippers are a necessary part of every holiday.”

“Syria, please, don’t.”

She couldn’t take it one more minute. This was just too impossible, too hard. He never even said what he was doing for the holiday, if he would be with family, if he even had family. She didn’t know enough about him to even speculate.

“It’s fine, Tyson. Let me go see to Mia.”

He set his phone down and leaned forward on his bed. She could see all of him again, the tight muscles of his abs, the bulging thighs. The need for him pierced her, but she pushed it down. Everyone else saw all these things every day. It was his job. They could touch him and laugh and call him up to come over. She couldn’t ask for anything.

“Can I call you later, when she’s gone?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

He nodded. “Okay.” His playful expression was gone as he rubbed his hands over his rough cheeks. He looked tired, actually. “We’ll work this out, Syria. I want to work this out.”

She reached over for the phone. “Bye, Tyson,” she said.

“Goodbye, Syria.”

Mia leaned against the doorframe to the room. “You crazy kids will figure it out,” she said, lifting a bottle of water to her lips and taking a long drink.

Syria fell back on the bed, wrapped in the comforter. Maybe. It seemed the two of them ran hot and cold all the time, and now it was dead winter, the coldest time of the year.