Wild Temptation (21 page)

“Thank you for letting me see these. They’re great.” I stand, knowing that my indifference is pissing him off. Truth is, I’m not indifferent. I’m aching for him.

“It was my pleasure.” He takes my hand and leans in to kiss my cheek. “And my pain,” he murmurs. “Wear black.”

I smile to myself as I leave the studio. In the dressing room, I change into jeans and a chunky sweater and wrap a scarf around my neck. My phone buzzes and I dig it from my purse.

Tell me you pissed him off. Please,

Dayton texts.

He’s not going to enjoy the next few hours, I know that much,

I send back.

That’s my girl. I’m joining him for “experience” in an hour. Tried getting there for yours but he said no. Douchenugget.

I laugh loudly and climb into my car. Before I start her up, I email Sheila and tell her that I think it went okay. The pictures really did look good—but then again, I’m up against a few known names.

No one knows me. I’m still just Liv from Seattle, trying to get a late break.

I head toward the gym to work off the takeout from last night before work. Of course, if I put any weight on, I can blame Tyler because it was his idea to eat calorie-and-carb-laden food and veg around on the sofa for two hours. I’m fairly certain any calories were burned after those two hours when his hands started wandering, but I’ll still blame him because I can.

And because it’s easier to blame him than myself. Easier to blame him for calories than to blame myself for wiping out a line.

But it was nice. More than nice, actually. Spending the evening with him, mostly chilling out, reminded me how great it is to do that. How much nicer it is for someone to stay after sex instead of walking straight out.

I get out of the car, figuring that I have half an hour on the treadmill before I have to leave for work. I change quickly and hit the second floor, grabbing a machine. I start up my iPod and put the earbuds in my ears.
Waves
by Mr. Probz blasts into my ears, and I’m drawn to the lyrics. Because I am drifting away. Slowly, but I’m drifting. Every line, every word, is so right.

My mind focuses back on last night as I increase the incline on the treadmill. I wish I could define whatever it is between us. It’s not quite no-strings and not quite dating. It’s an odd concept, hanging suspended in limbo. I wish I could put my finger on it. I wish I could figure out what makes a few strings with Tyler okay despite the obvious risks.

A sex addict and a love addict together is a preposterous idea. It’s pure stupidity. Idiocy. Fucked up.

It can only end in one way—and I’m not talking about an orgasm. Heartbreak.

I told Tyler that I’m trusting him. If only I knew what I was trusting him with. My heart? My body? My desires?

I know the last two are definitely true. I trust him with my body and my desires. I trust him to not abuse them, but instead to take them and spin them into pleasure. And he is sure as hell doing that.

In the several times we’ve been together now, we’ve only stretched the boundaries once. Both of us, I know, have more things we want to try. Both of us have ideas and dreams and wishes for what we can do…together.

Just like he said, we’re perfect together in the bedroom. We’re magic, completely in tune.

The music in my ears switches to my alarm and I slow my speed until I stop. I have no time to shower, so back in the dressing room, I douse myself in spray and dig my work clothes out from my bag. Black skinny jeans and a long-sleeved shirt—with a low neckline.

I squirm into the clothes and drive toward the bar. I glance through the back window, and it’s completely dead. I’m supposed to finish at nine tonight, and my body tingles just thinking about it.

I join Rosie at the bar. She’s on the long shift today, starting at one and finishing at midnight. I look around the nearly dead bar and raise my eyebrows.

“Really? They need two of us for this?”

“Right?” she replies, sighing. “This is going to be a boring shift.”

We spoke too soon.

Our first few hours were quiet. It picked up a bit around dinner but then dropped off. We thought we were getting it easy until
bam
. A fifty-strong bachelorette party strolled through the door. Since then, a twenty-strong bachelor party has joined them. Not connected—we checked.

They’re splitting their time between us and the cocktail bar upstairs. Unfortunately, they seem to like the louder music and space to dance down here because they’re drinking us out of white wine.

I pour four glasses and add them to the tab before I turn and pour three beers straight off. Rosie is the same at the other end. Both parties have mixed and no one seems to care anymore. In fact, I think a bridesmaid and an usher are making out in the corner.

I wipe the back of my hand across my forehead, and Rosie joins me at the register. “Liv, can you stay?” she asks. “I hate to do this, but I can’t handle this by myself. Donny won’t be here until eleven.”

“Of course. I’m not leaving you with these guys.” I turn and see two of the bachelorette party bitching at each other—heatedly. Jesus, nine p.m. and it’s started already. “Hey! Hey!”

They ignore me, so I put my fingers in my mouth and whistle. They stop and look at me, as do a few other people.

“If you’re gonna do that, take it outside!” I yell over the music, pointing to the door.

They seem to consider it for a moment before shrugging it off and walking in opposite directions. I pour a round of tequila shots, complete with lime and salt, and finally have five seconds to breathe.

A pee would be great though.

“It’s mental in here.”

I turn in the direction of Tyler’s voice and smile. “I have to stay on for two hours. I’m sorry.”

“No worries. Want me to go or wait here?”

“You can go if you want. It’s kind of crazy in here.”

“I’ll wait.” He winks.

I’m being yelled at for another beer, so I hold a finger up. “I’ll get you a drink as soon as I have a second. I promise.” I run to the middle of the bar and pour two pints simultaneously.

This continues all night. It takes me half an hour to get Tyler his drink, and the next one and a half are spent getting blisters from my flat shoes.

Fantastic. I should send Donny the bill for my Band-Aids.

Eventually, the boss shows up. There’s no sign of either party winding down any time soon. Donny rests a hand on my upper back as I pour two rounds of shots.

“A bachelorette party and a bachelor party on a Thursday night? They connected?”

“Yes and no. We don’t know either. They just showed up, and you can figure out the rest.” I take the cash from the girl in front of me and ring it up.

“Why didn’t you call? I would have come earlier. You were supposed to finish at nine, weren’t you?”

My eyes flick to him as I run the order through. “Really, Donny? Look around you. You think we’ve had time to call you?”

“I’ve been holding my piss for three hours,” Rosie grumbles, appearing next to him.

Donny sighs. “Okay, girls. Ro, you go use the bathroom. Liv, you can go home when she gets back, all right, hon?”

I meet Tyler’s gaze at the end of the bar. “Believe me. That’s all right with me.”

“New squeeze?” Donny asks, following my eyes.

“Now, Donny. You know better than to mix personal and professional lives.” I wink, laughing inside at the irony of my statement, and pour one last drink.

Rosie comes back and hugs me tight. “Thanks for staying. You’re doing the long shift tomorrow, right?”

I groan. “Yep. And I’m putting a fucking sign on the door banning all bachelorette and bachelor parties.”

I leave to her laughter. I get my coat from the back and grab Tyler’s hand on my way through the mass of people in the bar. Stepping outside, I take a deep breath. Oh, fresh air. Oh, space to breathe. How I’ve missed you.

“Your car’s in the parking lot.”

“I went to gym after the shoot. Worked off that takeout.” I dump my coat in the back despite the freezing temperature. “Sorry. Forgot.”

Tyler smiles and cups my face, brushing his thumbs across my cheeks. “You look exhausted, baby girl.”

“I’ve been there since two without a break.” I yawn. “Then running around like that for four hours. I’m beat.”

He kisses my forehead, sending a thrill through me. “Stay over tonight. To sleep.”

I shake my head. “I’m trusting you, but not that much.”

“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Did you get Dayton’s text earlier?”

“No, and I don’t think I want to.”

He laughs. “She’s cooking dinner for us all tomorrow night.”

“I’m working,” I smile weakly. “I have Saturday night off, but I’m doing the long shift. I won’t finish until one tomorrow morning.”

“Even though you just worked two extra hours?”

“Welcome to the world of bartending, honey. I’m gonna go home, eat, sleep, then repeat. Okay? Have fun at dinner tomorrow.” I yawn again and open my car door.

Tyler captures my lips with his in a swift movement. “Dinner will be Saturday night. Then you’re mine.”

I really did spend all of Friday in bed. I slept, ate, then headed into work. I worked my little ass off before going home and collapsing into bed at two a.m.

Now, however, I’m slumped over Dayton’s sofa, watching her compare fabric swatches to get the right tablecloth color.

And I couldn’t give a flying monkey if ivory and champagne and off-white are completely different. I want more coffee and another few hours of sleep.

“Liv, you are the worst bridesmaid ever.”

“You’re the worst bride ever,” I retort, sitting up with a huff. “It’s easy, Day. Your color scheme is white with champagne and pink. Your chair sashes are champagne and your centerpiece is a mixture of both but predominantly pink. Just have plain, old white for the table cloths. It’ll make the rest stand out better.”

She looks at me and the fabric. And back again. And back again. “I take it back. You’re the best bridesmaid ever. You’re a fucking genius.”

“That’s what they say,” I mumble, lying back down and closing my eyes. I yawn and snuggle into my hood.

“Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

“Dinner,” I mumble again. “Just need coffee.”

“Wow, is Tyler that good?” She laughs.

“I’ve done two long shifts. But if you really must know, yes, he is.”

So good that my supposed full night’s sleep last night ended up with a vibrator intervention at three a.m. I need to get that man to tie me to a bedpost—stat. These dreams are making my clit insanely achy.

“Here.” She waves a steaming mug of coffee under my face, and I force my eyes open. If only I could drink from a mug sitting down. I need a sippy cup when I’m this tired.

I shove myself up into a sitting position and hug the mug. “I’m not sleeping great,” I admit.

Dayton chews her lip and looks down so I can’t see the worry. But I do. It’s almost funny how my sleeping with different guys isn’t a cause for concern, but as soon as I stick to one, we have a problem.

“I like him,” I say out loud, more to myself than her. There. I said it. I admitted it. “But I don’t want to date him.”