Wild Temptation (26 page)

“Mmph. Two weeks ago, you were warning me off him.”

“Two weeks ago, you didn’t have that goofy, little smile on your face you do now.” She laughs, unlocking her car.

“Go fuck yourself,” I mutter, getting in. “You’re driving? To dinner? Wow.”

Day’s eyes cut to me. A small smile is teasing her lips. “It took me ten minutes to convince him that, yes, we’re going to dinner, but I’m going to pick up my best friend and I’m not going to do that with the Stone army.”

I snort. Stone army. “And Tyler probably would have pissed me off before I even got off the sofa.”

“Liv, the way you slouch around, you’d scare him off.”

“Pssh. Have you seen his apartment? Smears on the glass, empty cookie packages on almost every surface… I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a dead bird in there somewhere.”

Dayton laughs loudly. “Yeah, this is true. Tyler’s not exactly tidy. Clean, but not tidy.”

“There’s nothing clean about Tyler.”

“I’m trying to work out if I’m disturbed by that or if I want to know more.”

Both of us break into a fit of giggles, only disturbed by the ringing of my phone. I check the screen and, on seeing Tyler’s name, drop it back into my purse. There’s nothing he can’t say to me in a couple of minutes.

We pull into a parking lot outside Alessandria’s, a gorgeous Italian restaurant. Aaron and Tyler are standing by Tyler’s car, waiting for us, and both smile when we get out.

“No,” Dayton says, walking toward them and glancing at me. “I definitely want to know more.”

I clap my hand over my mouth. Of course she does. When her escorting job required it, she could be the queen of kink. I wonder what Tyler would have said if he’d seen her working rooms—more specifically, the kinky room.

“Know more about what?” Aaron questions, wrapping an arm around Dayton’s waist.

“Oh, nothing you’d be interested in, baby.” She beams at him, and I stifle my giggles.

No, Aaron would definitely not be interested in his cousin’s emerging kinky side.

“Well?” Tyler asks, resting his hand on my lower back. “What does she want to know more about?”

“Nothing you don’t already know everything about,” I whisper, leaning into him.

“You talk about our sex life?” He sounds equal parts amused and horrified.

“Not in so many words,” I answer truthfully. Well, I haven’t. Not really.

“Mmm.” He pushes me through the open restaurant door and toward the table Aaron and Day are already seated at.

“Mmm? What is mmm?” I glance back at him.

He smirks, his eyes dancing with delight. He says nothing as he pulls my chair out for me, but then he lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers, “It’s the sound I’m going to make next time I’m running my tongue along your pussy.”

I swallow, fighting a shiver. Goddamn this man. My eyes follow him as he takes a seat opposite me, next to Aaron. His gaze never falls from mine, the connection never breaking, the intensity never wavering.

Sometimes, looking into his eyes is like looking into something I never imagined I could have.

Finally, I pull my eyes from his as the waiter pours us each a glass of wine. He sets the open bottle in an ice bucket at the end of table, and I grab a menu to stop myself from looking back up at Tyler. Perusing it is nowhere near as gorgeous as looking at him, but it beats letting anyone see the blush rising up my neck and flushing my cheeks.

Like, seriously. How does he even have the balls to say shit like that in public?

He knows it’s true. That’s how.

And now I’m thinking about him laying me back on my bed, opening my legs wide, and licking me. Great.

“I bought a bar,” Aaron announces once we’ve ordered.

“So what’s new?” Tyler asks dryly. “With Dad?”

Aaron shakes his head and takes a drink of his wine. “Nope. Outright this time.”

“Wonders will never bloody cease,” Ty mutters fondly.

Dayton rolls her eyes, and I’m half-tempted to join her. These two are more like brothers than cousins.

“And,” Day prompts him.

“And I want you to run it, Liv.”

I’m sorry.
What?
I choke on my wine and set the glass down. “I’m sorry. What?”

Aaron’s lips twitch on one side. “I’m sorry—wasn’t I clear? You’ll be running it.”

“Hold up.” I lift my hand. “I will be running it? Are we forgetting how to ask people things?”

Dayton snorts. “Yes, Aaron, honey. Remember your manners. We went over this last week.”

I nudge her thigh and she high-fives me beneath the table. So we’re kids at heart. Sue us.

“Hilarious,” Aaron quips. “Let’s try again. Liv, I’ve bought a cocktail bar about two blocks from your apartment. Would you consider running it for me?”

“That’s really not enough to make an informed decision. I need more details.” I lean back in my chair, cross my legs, and look at him over my wine glass.

Holy fuck, is he really offering me to run a bar?

“You spend far too much time with my fiancée.”

“She learned it all from me.” I smile as our dinner is placed in front of us. “You do have more details, right?”

“Stop fucking with him.” Tyler laughs. “Aaron, just tell her everything. Then she’ll shut up. If not, I’ll shut her up.”

My heel connects with his shin.

“Bitch,” he hisses.

I smile sweetly.

“Well,” Aaron begins, a smile teasing his lips, “it’s not a huge building. But there’s a fair-sized bar with a dance floor and plenty of space for tables. I have a designer working on something now—she’ll have it by the weekend—and it should take around three weeks to remodel. I presume that’s enough time to give notice at your current job.”

I swallow my salmon and point my fork in his direction. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet, buddy, and that’s not enough information. Cocktail bar—are we talking mixers? Shots? Getting those guys in who can do those fancy-ass cocktail-shaking routines? Which, by the way, I wouldn’t be averse to. Just putting that out there.”

I can feel Tyler shooting daggers at me across the table.

“Yes, I’d be looking to hire some of those ‘guys who can do fancy-ass cocktail-shaking routines,’” he says with a smile. “Really, your job would be to run it. It would be full time but flexible. Your hours would be based entirely around your modeling schedule. As long as you can get in twice a week for several hours to do schedules and orders, you’ll be paid a strong salary.”

“A strong salary? That happens in bartending?” I snort.

Dayton nudges me and passes me a slip of paper. I grab it and look down. My eyes widen the second I see the number on the paper.

“Are you fucking serious? For being a bar manager?”

Forty thousand dollars a year is not a normal fucking salary for that shit. I know that much.

“I’ll expect you to run it and make it the top cocktail bar in the city. There’s a room upstairs for functions with a separate bar. I believe you can hook the young, college crowd. You’re confident and you’re hot. You’re the perfect manager for this.”

I push my fish around the plate. “Wow. Um. Really? This isn’t a joke?”

“No joke,” Dayton says quietly. “Donny is an ass. A lovable ass, but an ass. He’s always in a shit mood whenever you ask for time off for modeling even though he knew the conditions when he hired you. You won’t have to deal with pervy-ass guys staring at your tits all the time. Just Tyler.”

My lips twitch. “Seriously? I could model and do this?”

“No one is making you. Or forcing you.” Dayton shoots Aaron a look and gets a grin in return. “It’s a big choice, so take a few days to think it over. It won’t open for, like, three or four weeks at least.” She leans in toward me. “I knew you’d freak a little,” she whispers. “Take as long as you need to decide. You don’t have to do this.”

I nod. “Um, okay. I’ll think about it for a few days. I really want to, but it’s a huge decision.”

It doesn’t escape my notice that Tyler has been silent throughout our whole exchange. I can still feel his eyes burning into me. Luckily, Aaron accepts my response and the subject is dropped. We swiftly move onto Dayton’s latest shoot and the fact that her latest project had her top of her class.

I stay silent throughout the majority of the conversation, happy to listen to her describe a job she loves with true passion. It’s so amazing to see and hear after so many years of seeing her working as an escort—something she coveted for the control and not the job. Although she doesn’t regret her decision to be a call girl, I know she loves photography.

It’s easy to see when she’s the one behind a camera, shooting you.

When Tyler joins the conversation, his words are short and clipped. They add a heavy level of tension over us all. One that almost makes me want to shrink back a little—it’s powerful and overwhelming. And I know somehow it’s because of me.

Was it really the cocktail-shaking-guy thing? Because wow.

Dayton shoots me several confused looks, ones I mirror, throughout the rest of dinner. Eventually, we pay, Tyler wordlessly covering my half of the dinner and throwing my money back at me. Literally throwing it.

I snatch it back up and shove it into my purse. My eyes narrow at him. What the hell is he playing at?

I stalk out of the restaurant behind him and go to my car. Neither of us says a word as he gets into his and drives out of the parking lot. I follow him out and realize too late that he’s heading toward my apartment.

If he thinks he’s getting himself into my pants tonight, he can go fuck himself.

I pull up next to him in the parking lot and get out. He’s leaning against the hood of his car, his hands in his pockets, his chin against his chest. He’s marginally illuminated by the streetlight, but most of his face is hidden by the darkness.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He looks up. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?”

“Several things, but that’s not the issue here.” I dump my purse on the hood of his car and put my hands on my hips. “Are you having a male period or something? Because your mood changed quicker than a fucking traffic light at rush hour.”

“Excuse me for being a little put out when my date started talking about fancy-ass cocktail guys or some bullshit.”

“It wasn’t a date.” I stop. Was it? No. “That wasn’t a date! That was a fucking business proposition.”

“A date disguised as one.” He clamps his jaw shut and pushes off the car. “That was the whole bloody point of the night. A date you didn’t know was a date.”

I rub my temples. “Why would you do that when you know how I feel about dating?”

“That’s why I did it.” He runs his fingers through his hair.

“Well, if that’s the way you treat your ‘dates,’ I’ll be rethinking Saturday night.”

His arms shoot out. His hands clamp around my wrists and he pulls me into him. His fingers stroke my jaw, and he tilts my head back so I’m looking at him.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says tightly. “You’re going to the party with me on Saturday whether you fucking like it or not.”

I narrow my eyes. “Last I remembered, you weren’t the boss of me.”

“You weren’t saying that when you were screaming my name.”

“Prick!” I snatch my wrists from him, but he’s quicker.

His arms circle my waist and crush me against him, flipping me over and laying me back against his car. His lips take mine in a rough kiss as his body covers me. My hands are grabbed by his and pinned above my head.

My head is screaming at me to make him let go, but my body is softening, molding to his will.

“You could learn how to cocktail-shake all fancy on Google or Wikihow, you know.”

Tyler pushes his hips into mine, his erection just millimeters away from my center. “If I’m shaking anything, it’ll be you, babe. Not a motherfucking cocktail.”

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is you.” His voice is low, his mouth hovering just above my ear. There’s a scratchy tenderness to his words—a dangerous one.

“I don’t get it.”

“You never do.” He stands, releasing my wrists. I see him shake him head in the darkness.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I stand, indignant.

“When you know, I’ll tell you.” He pulls his car door open.

“That makes no sense!”

“Neither do you, Olivia. Neither do you.” He gets in, starts the engine, and reverses.

My purse falls to the ground, but I can’t move. I just stand, watching him leave the parking lot.

“Fuck you, Tyler Stone!” I yell after him. Fruitlessly. Pointlessly. He can’t hear me. I’m shouting aimlessly into the darkness, using its nothingness as an outlet for my frustrated anger.

I grab the purse from the ground and stomp upstairs. Straight past the elevator. Halfway up, I pull my shoes off and continue my stomping barefoot. I dig my key out and shove it in the door when Sean’s opens.

“Darling, this was delivered earlier for you.”