Wild Temptation (38 page)

We share a smile.

“So, right now, you can tell me about my so-called surprise.”

“Aha! That’s the reason for the porky comment.” She grins. “You are going to want to string Tyler by his balls from the Eiffel Tower.”

“As long as it’s not a bullet and a boat, I think I can cope,” I say dryly, taking a small envelope from her hand.

“I’m sorry?” she chokes. “No, wait. There are some things I don’t need to know. Besides, I think I’ve worked that out for myself.”

I hold up three fingers and internally laugh at her gasp. Yep. The ex-call girl is amazed by simultaneous O’s. There’s something I never thought I’d see.

She’s still staring at me when I tear open the envelope. A card falls to my lap and I gawk at it. Not a note-card kind of card. A card-card. A credit-card kind of card. With Tyler’s name on.

I inhale deeply and pull out the note. Do. Not. Freak.

Believe it or not, I’m not being an arse. This time. Shocking, I know.

I conveniently forgot to tell you one of the shoots I want to do is a boudoir one…again. And I conveniently forgot to tell Dayton to pack you something suitable. Which means you have to buy something. Okay. Maybe that’s a little twattish…

Still, find something sexy. Preferably in that light pink colour you like. Definitely in the light pink colour.

And don’t come back until you have a pair of shoes that match.

If you also feel the need to purchase something for dinner tonight, go wild. Wild is how we do it, and I don’t expect any less when I throw my card at you.

Just don’t snap it, alright? I know your hot temper and I kinda need my card.

T

I swallow twice. His card. Right. For lingerie. And shoes. And a dress. I rub my nose.

“Well?” Day half-winces.

“He put a ‘u’ in color.”

“Um, what?”

“He put a ‘u’ in color. Fucking British and their stupid spelling.” I fold the note into quarters and tuck it into my purse then grab my wallet and slip my card into it.

“Why aren’t you going batshit motherfucking crazy?”

I sigh heavily and look at her. “What can I do, really? He’s even more persistent and controlling than Aaron—but not in a bad way. And hey, if he’s telling me to buy things that will ultimately get me fucked, who am I to complain?”

Dayton raises her eyebrows and opens her car door. I get out on my side and look up. The Arc de Triomphe towers above us. I know this place. The
Champs
-
Élysées
. The most expensive street in the world.

My best friend stares at me for a long moment before we start walking. “I’m not sure what he’s doing to you, but I kind of like it. Is he taming you?”

I laugh loudly. “No, he’s even crazier than I am. He’s wild and crazy and ridiculously impulsive.”

“I know someone else like that.” She gives me a pointed look.

“Perhaps that’s why we make sense in the worst kind of way.” I shrug, looking down the
Champs
-
Élysées
.

“The worst kind? No, Liv. You make sense in the best kind of way. Trust me. Opposites don’t always attract and work out. Sometimes you need another version of you, just with a penis instead of a vagina, to make everything seem right again.”

E
levator. Bullet in a restaurant. In a bathroom at a party. In a club. On a bar—an actual bar.

Those are only some of the things on Tyler’s list. He really wasn’t joking when he said he’d think up some places. Of course, I fully expect him to try everything on the list at least once. He’s nothing if not consistent, and he hasn’t yet said that he’ll do something without following through on it.

Shopping is painful. I’ve never been a huge shopper, but I’ve never been a hater of it either. After Day led me to a lingerie store off the
Champs
-
Élysées
, one she found after an afternoon of random walking around, we headed back onto the main street and passed a thousand designer stores.

Now, we’re in a high-end store I barely caught the name of, and I’m feeling like a fish out of water. I’m too scared to touch anything or, god forbid, look at a price tag. This is crazy and this isn’t me.

I wish I could be the kind of woman who’s able to spend a man’s money without batting an eyelid.

“How do you do it?” I ask Dayton, watching her hand three items to the clerk.

“I imagine it’s my money and not Aaron’s.”

That would work if I had this kind of money.

“You’re really not comfortable here, are you?” she asks quietly when she comes back to me.

“It’s not that. Maybe a bit.” I run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t have a right to spend his money. It’s not mine to spend.”

“Olivia Warren. You listen to me right now.” She grabs my chin and makes me look at her. “He’s giving you his card. You know why he’s giving you it?”

I shake my head.

“He’s expecting you not to spend anything more than the underwear because you’ll justify it as a business expense. Correct?”

“Yes,” I reply begrudgingly.

“If you go back to him without a pair of shoes and a dress for dinner, he’ll know your decision to remain…
uncommitted…
is your final one.”

“So you’re saying that, if I spend his money, I’m telling him I’m open to the idea of an actual relationship? You know this is bullshit, right?”

“Men are just as sensitive as we are to this stuff. Just in different ways. So you can find a dress in here and give you both a taste of the future or you can walk out empty-handed and taste loneliness.”

I stand up. “I hate it when you’re right.”

She smiles. “There’s a blue dress over there you should consider.”

I go to where she’s pointing and pull it off the rack. She’s right. I should consider it. Skin-tight, knee-length, royal-blue lace, long sleeves. It’s a perfect dress. Perfect to be peeled off prior to sex. Or cuddles, I add, reminding myself what this means.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “No looking at the price tag.”

I check the label and, seeing that it’s my size, take it to the register. I hand it and the card over before she can tell me the price and leave like my ass is on fire.

Outside, I take a deep breath. Holy. I just spent a ridiculous amount of money on a dress from a card that doesn’t even have my name on it.

“Well, that was like watching a cow try to fit in at high school prom,” Dayton quips, taking my elbow and guiding me three stores down.

Manolo Blahnik. Oh. Okay. This I can get on board with a little better.

We try on almost every pair in our sizes before I settle on a simple black pair of heeled pumps with glitter ankle straps. Then I grab my phone and dial Tyler’s number.

“Is my card still in one piece?”

“Yes.”
Bastard.
“I admit, your faith in me is overwhelming.”

“Your temper is awful when you’re offended. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the blue underwear incident.”

“That was unexpected. So was this, but whatever. You are aware this breaks the rules, aren’t you?”

He laughs. “Baby girl, we’ve already broken every rule we ever had. This is the most unconventional sex-only relationship in the history of the world.”

“I suppose.”

“So, did you buy anything?”

“Surprises are fun, aren’t they?” I smile. “Hey, when did you want to do that shoot?”

“So you bought lingerie,” he hums appreciatively. “How about you bring your sexy little arse back to the hotel room and we’ll get started?”

My lips curve. “Don’t wear tight pants. It could be uncomfortable for you, honey.”

“Wear pants? Who said I’d be wearing pants?”

Dayton helps me change in the car. Or rather, she holds her coat between us while I do. Given Tyler’s reaction the last time I showed up without clothes on, I’m ready to take it a step further.

I’m going to make sure this shoot is nothing but pure torture for him.

I shove my clothes in one of my bags and wrestle myself into my coat. The bones of the light-pink corset dig in as I contort my body to maneuver myself into the thick fabric of my coat. One of the straps clipped to the top of one of my stockings comes undone, and Dayton reaches over and redoes it.

“Here,” she says. “Do this and they’ll stay on. Trick of the trade.” She does some odd fabric thing I’ll never remember and orders me to turn over so she can do the back ones. I let her do it.

“Thanks.” I throw her a smile as we pull up outside the hotel.

“Have fun.” She grins and waves as she drives away.

Okay. Bathroom.

I enter the hotel lobby and detour to the restrooms to the right. I tug my makeup from my purse and do a quick touch-up, making sure I don’t have stray mascara or bronzer anywhere. Satisfied with my quickie job, I run a brush through my hair and fluff it.

I leave the bathroom and head toward the elevator, excitement filling me. So I’m thinking of the last time we had a shoot like this. The time we met for the second time. I remember it so well—the shock, the need to run, the necessity to stay.

I never could have guessed that it would take us here. I never could have wanted to guess it.

I swipe my card through the door and enter the suite. It’s silent, deathly so, and I put my bags down quietly.

“Hello?”

“In the bedroom,” Tyler calls.

I walk toward it with my coat still on. And stop dead in the doorway. He’s standing in the middle of the room, fiddling with his camera, without a shirt. He’s wearing jeans, but they’re unbuttoned and hanging dangerously low on his hips.

But…no shirt.

“Liv? Hello?” He smirks sexily, and I instantly know that it’s deliberate.

Of course it is. We thrive off our games. Each of us loves the thrill of pushing the other to their limit and beyond.

I’m about to give the final shove.

I slowly unbutton my coat, keeping my eyes on Tyler’s, and slide it down my arms. Without breaking his gaze, I hang it over the edge of the door. Heat flares in his eyes, gradually intensifying until his gaze running over my body may as well be licking me with real flames.

“Get on the bed,” he orders. His voice is low and husky—the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.

I don’t move, paralyzed by a burst of need for him.

“This is my place.” He walks to me and roughly tugs me to him. “The bedroom. Sex or photoshoot—I’m in the one in control. Now get on the bed, on your knees, and close your eyes.”

Air fills my lungs but I do as he says. It’s impossible not to. He’s telling me how to pose for a photo, but it feels like he’s telling me how he’s going to tease and erotically torture me until I break.

I climb onto the soft sheets, position myself on my knees, and rest my hands on top of my thighs.

“Chin up,” he says from behind me.

I raise my head a little, and oh! Satin covers my eyes in a swath of smoothness, and I gasp when I realize what he’s doing. Blindfolding me.

He ties the knot at the back of my head and tugs on my hair, pulling my head back. His mouth lies close to my ear.