Rekindling Tradition

Chapter Eighteen: Losing Control

Disclaimer: All characters and settings are purely fictional. If there are any similarities to real people or places, it is merely coincidental. The plot is written by me and not copied from any other writer.

***WARNING*** This chapter contains mature content of a sexual nature. If that is not an interest of yours, please proceed to the next chapter. Thank you.

********** Chapter Eighteen **********

There is a reason exes with unresolved issues should stay away from each other: sexual tension. Or, at least, that's what I think is driving me insane at the moment. The wedding atmosphere was fucking with my mind. I couldn't look away from her. Not with her smiling like the world was in her hands. Or those brown pools gleaming at the happiness of her best friend. My eyes soaked her in. Every curve that fabric clung tightly to was memorized in my head. Part of me tried to remember the feel of her body against mines, edging me further to losing myself in her. Gosh, I wanted nothing more. As I said, it was the atmosphere getting to me. 

At the moment, I should be hating her. The hell my parents sieged on me after introducing them to Tyrus. My mother was heartbroken, not that I could blame her. She was upset about missing so many years of her first grandchild. My father found every plausible way to place blame on me. According to him, it was my fault for choosing a woman like Rylee to impregnate. Needless to say, I almost punched my father. Tyrus was an amazing kid. Whether I liked it or not, Rylee played a part in who he is. As much as we weren't getting along, I would never let anyone insult the mother of my child. 

Which leads me into the predicament I was currently in. My father wanted to take Rylee to court for keeping Tyrus' identity a secret. I wouldn't lie and say I hadn't thought about it too. But there were so many factors I considered before making such a rash decision. Tyrus loved his mother more than anyone in the world. If I took him away from her, he would only grow to despise me, which is not what I wanted. Rylee was his world, not that I could fault him for it. At one point in my life, she was mine. I just needed to ensure my parents didn't interfere in his life the way they did with mines. 

I groaned, thinking about the situation. I was given an ultimatum. Either Tyrus' surname changes before the end of the month, or they would take Rylee to court. He was without a doubt a Bradshaw. My mother confirmed it about a million times, pointing out every feature he shared with me. Zaria, who was back in town for the wedding, gushed over her new nephew as if he was a newborn. Thankfully, she was able to reason with them about taking Rylee to court but, it wasn't enough to persuade them to drop it. So, here I was, at my best friend's wedding, checking out my ex-girlfriend while worrying about how to change my son's last name. 

"You want to fuck her," KC stated, standing on the side of me with a smirk on his face. He was holding a glass filled with scotch. His eyes met Rylee's dancing figure. I found myself drawn in by every step she made. Nothing changed about her movements. They were still as rhythmic as they were when she was younger, except there was something erotic about the way she swayed her hips to the sound of the music. 

"That and so many other things," I said through clenched teeth, my eyes locked on my prey. I was about ninety percent sure I was going to fuck her senseless tonight. I wasn't sure if the other ten percent would allow me. 

"You better make a move soon. Jordan Dean has his eyes on her," KC turned his head to Jordan, sitting by the table next to a dancing Rylee. There it was, the feeling of jealousy. The rage that came with having feelings for Rylee. Why did men flock to like a moth to a flame? I frowned, no one deserved her, especially not that annoying fucker. 

"Worried?" KC teased, taking a sip of his drink. I scoffed. Worried? Of who? Rylee Scott was mine. She always was, and she will always be. If she couldn't remember who she belonged to, I would surely remind her. As if feeling my stirring anger, Rylee looks up at me. Our gazes locked, an exchange between us made. She coyly looks away.