Wild Temptation (23 page)

“I love your tits. They’re just perfect for…” He squeezes them both hard and pinches my nipples.

I moan.

“Like that, babe? A bit rough?” He does it again, this time the pinch in time with his thrust inside, and I moan again.

The small sparks of pain from the pinches mingle with the heat coating my body. They’re painfully good, too good, and a third, softer pinch, has me arching my back into him. Mostly for what he was doing and partly so my hips tilt too.

Tyler swings my legs down and leans forward, one of his hands under my butt and holding it up. He nips his way up my neck until he reaches my ear and whispers, “You’re bad, Liv. You’re bad and I fucking love it.”

“I prefer wild,” I breathe out, finishing on a moan.

“You’re bad and you’re wild.” He picks up his pace. “You’re my wild, tempting bitch. Don’t go soft on me.”

I laugh, my fists clenching above my head. “Never.”

And when I come, it’s hard and it’s wild.

A
ngus looks at me like I’ve refused another one of his dead bird gifts.

“Oh, come on. Sean came in to feed you.”

His tail waves behind him.

“Angus. What if I buy you catnip? Will we be friends then?”

He hops off the counter and stalks away. He’s one pissed-off kitty.

“Do you often talk to your cat like he’s a human?” Tyler says from behind me, amused.

“Do you often question everything?” I retort, stalking into the bathroom to grab the laundry basket.

“I’m amazed you have a washing machine up here. You know, every Brit thinks The Big Bang Theory’s apartment block is the standard, right?”

I roll my eyes. “In smaller apartments, yeah. This is fairly big as it goes. Dayton helped me put down the deposit so I didn’t have to fuck around with a laundry room.”

“She helped you buy your apartment?”

“She said it was my birthday present for four years.” I smile wryly. “Seriously. I haven’t had a birthday present for two.”

Tyler laughs and opens my fridge. “You have no food.”

“Between work and you, I haven’t exactly had a chance to go to the store.” I start the machine and stand up. “I still don’t understand why you followed me home.”

“I have nothing to do today. I was hoping you could entertain me.” He grins wolfishly.

“Seriously? What, three times in twelve hours isn’t enough for you?”

“Babe, I’m a sex addict.”

“It’s really cute that you’re trying to pull that card.” I tap his nose. “But it’s not gonna work. Unless you’re proposing we do something normal, you can go home.”

He stops. “Are you saying if I planned something to do, you’d come?”

I freeze. “No.”

“No, don’t do that with me.” He bends down in front of me on the sofa. “I won’t ask you to define what we’ve got going on. I won’t force you into that, but don’t keep it going backward. Don’t panic every time I say or do something that might make you a little uncomfortable.”

“People panic when shit gets uncomfortable.” Especially me. I like to freak. “But if you really, really want to do something, I suppose I’m okay with that. Kind of.”

And that’s exactly how we end up leaving my apartment and heading out.

Okay, so I can understand wanting to go out. But the pier? When it’s, like, forty degrees out? Uh, no. That I don’t fucking understand. I also don’t like it. One bit.

Which is why I’m hiding out in the restaurant with a hot chocolate while he stares at me across the table. I class this as getting out, for the record. I also class this as a maybe-date. He should be thankful. He even got English tea.

“You make things very hard.”

“I make
some
thing very hard,” I quip, dropping my eyes.

“It’s never not fucking hard around you, you tease.”

I grin. “That’s what you get when you have a girl who guards her heart with sex.”

Tyler doesn’t reply. He studies me across the table, his gorgeous eyes flicking over my face. He scratches his jaw, still watching me thoughtfully, and leans back. “I have to ask you something.”

“Um, okay?”

“Stone Advertising is throwing a party—it’s a celebration for Aaron. In one year, he smashed every expectation anyone had. He pushed the company into the billion-dollar threshold and managed to secure a five-year contract with the newest, hottest fashion designer before anyone had even heard of her.”

“Impressive.” I sip my hot chocolate, keeping my face impassive. I think I know where this is going, and I’m trying to ignore the thump of my heart.

“It’s next weekend. Saturday.”

I’m not working Saturday. Dammit.

“I’ve been invited. So have you.”

“Good to know. Where are you going with this?”

His lips twitch. “I want you to go with me.”

“It’s not really a good idea if we’re seen together at a company party. Don’t you think?”

He laughs. “I knew you’d say that. But here’s the thing—I’m not employed by Aaron. And neither are you. You employ his agency.”

I open my mouth but immediately close it again. Dammit. I don’t have an argument for that.

“So it doesn’t really matter if we go together. We’re not breaking any rules.”

“Um.” My mouth is dry. I drink, but it makes no difference. “When you say ‘go together,’ do you mean like…”

“A date, Liv. Yes. I’m asking you to come with me as my date.”

I exhale slowly. Ooookay. “Um. I… I have to go. I can’t think right now. I…” I close my eyes and stand up. “I’m sorry. Please let me go think.”

He looks like he wants to argue. To fight. But he doesn’t. He simply nods once and I run out of the restaurant.

My head pounds as I walk through Seattle. I’m not paying any attention to where I’m going. I’m just walking.

A date. That’s…a big, almost nonexistent line. Sure, the drink in the bar and the drink just then could have been constituted as dates. Hell, the time we had dinner with Day and Aaron and Tyler pinned me against my car and kissed the fuck out of me could have been a date.

But none were ever defined. And I can deal with that. I can deal with a hazy fog of not knowing because then I can convince myself that it’s not real and I don’t crave his touch or the sound of his voice or the flick of his tongue and oh my god.

I am so fucking fucked.

I lean against a wall and bury my face in my hands. Here it is—my admission to myself.

I’m getting addicted to Tyler Stone. Not only my mind, but my body, too. And quite possibly my heart.

That’s the worst. The heart. If I agree to this date, I’m agreeing to let my heart get addicted. It’s one thing for my body to crave him. It’s something quite different if my heart does.

Because bodies can’t be destroyed by love. Hearts can. Even minds can be.

I learned that the hard way. No one ever told me how brutal love was. They never told me how, coupled with addiction, it could shatter you. Ruin you.

Because when you get addicted to something, that something becomes your whole world. It becomes the central point for your existence. You live for nothing but the addiction, and every minute you aren’t feeding it is a minute you’re craving it.

Walking away from it takes willpower. It takes mental strength and determination—something that’s easy to come by when you don’t want what you’re addicted to. Then you have a reason to say no. You have a reason to turn your back.

I don’t have that. Apart from my own fears, I have no reason to walk away from that gorgeous man. I have no reason to turn away and run from the man who sets my body on fire with an unnatural ease.

I have no reason to give up the person who’s made me feel more alive than I have in years.

I know in my heart that my walking away just now was irrational. It was stupid and impulsive, and if I didn’t think it would hurt, I’d slap myself fucking silly for it.

Because he didn’t deserve that. He deserved a “Let me think about it and get back to you. What are we doing now?” Not a giant, metaphorical “Fuck you!”

I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot and a fool and a giant, raging fucking bitch.

I’m flightier than a bird ready to migrate. I’m giving myself whiplash with my own indecision over what I want, so fuck only knows how Tyler feels. Back and forth, back and forth… In my mind, it’s a never-ending circle of what-ifs and trepidation. It’s a foundation of anxiety and fear.

And I have to make a choice—sooner or later, I’ll have to stop running. I’ll have to face up to the dangers my addiction poses to both me and others and deal with them.

I told Tyler that I trust him, but I don’t. Not really. If I did, I wouldn’t have run out of that restaurant like someone had doused my pants in gas and set me alight.

Maybe now is the time to stop running. Maybe now is the time to step back and face up to the fears that are slowly creeping out.

Maybe now is the time to be honest with myself.

My name is Olivia Warren. I’m an addict. I’m addicted to love and I’m addicted to the same person I fall in love with. I’m tempted and allured by their voice and their touch, and eventually, I will crave them. Body and soul. And I’m running because, once upon a time, my addiction nearly cost me my life.

But now, I’m aware of it. And I can control it. So I’m not running anymore.

I’m eventually going to crave Tyler Stone—body and soul. I’m going to trust a man I probably shouldn’t, and I’m going to give in to the wild temptation running rampant through my veins.

“A date? You have a date?”

“There’s no need to sound so surprised, Mom. It happens occasionally.” I drop back onto the sofa and prop my feet on the coffee table.

“It hasn’t happened for three years, Olivia.”

“Precisely. Once every three years is occasionally.”

She sighs, her heavy breath crackling down the phone. “And do you know this man? Or is he someone you just met?”

Oh, we know each other.
“He’s Aaron’s cousin. You know, Day’s fiancé.”

“Oh, well that makes a difference. If he’s Dayton approved, I’m sure he’s a good guy.”

A good guy with a penchant for a little light bondage and a mini vibrator.

“Day hasn’t exactly…
approved
…him. More like she’s waiting and seeing.”