Wild Temptation (40 page)

“In three hours’ time, we’ll be on a plane, in rather tight quarters, with a bed accessible and not a lot to do.”

His eyes darken. With heat or anger, I don’t know. Maybe it’s restrained temptation. But it’s the kind of darkness that’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

“Then you better find yourself something to do for sixteen hours that won’t make you wet or me hard.”

“Day packed me some porn on a page, so I’ll manage.” I grin sassily. “How about you?”

He puts his hands in his pockets. “Well, I was planning on uploading the images from yesterday and editing. Of course, I was also planning to induct us into the mile high club right after. Since I no longer have that option, I’ll probably just wander around with my cock raging hard and see if you can be around me and still keep to your challenge.”

“Hey, I challenged you to not give me an orgasm. I didn’t challenge it the other way around.”

He smirks and walks to me, pulling his hands from his pockets. He rests them over mine on the bed, his fingers falling between mine, and leans forward. “Liv, the challenge goes for both of us. I can only think of one reason why you’d challenge me to this, whether or not you’ll admit it.”

I meet his gaze steadily despite the thump of my heart. “And what reason would that be, smartass?”

“It would be the one where you’re still trying to convince yourself to give me a chance, and you want to see if we can be together in a way that isn’t physical.”

“Wrong.” I swallow my lie.

“You’re a lying bitch,” he whispers into my ear, his lips brushing my lobe. “You’re racking up quite the adjectives to go with that nickname.”

“Bitch is my official nickname? Oh, wow. I feel so cherished.” I roll my eyes.

“No, ‘bitch’ isn’t your nickname.” He grins then darts forward, kissing me, dragging my bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re
my
bitch, which makes your official nickname ‘Tyler’s Bitch.’”

“Does that make a huge difference?” I murmur as he runs his tongue along where his teeth just were.

“Yes. It makes the world of difference.”

“What, stick your name on an oddly affectionate but possibly insulting nickname and it makes it better?”

“It doesn’t have to make it better”—he runs his thumb along the curve of my jaw—“because it makes you
mine.
And it makes sure everyone else knows it, too.”

“But I’m not yours. Not really.”

“You are mine, Liv, whether you admit it to yourself or not. You’re mine when you’re wrapping your hand around my cock. You’re mine when your hands are bound and you’re at my mercy. You’re mine when your eyes are covered and you’re following my instructions. And you’re sure as fucking hell mine when you’re screaming my name at the end of it all.”

I shiver as his strong, certain words wash over me. He’s right, of course. I am his—physically, mentally, and a little bit emotionally. And that’s exactly what scares me.

Being as owned by him as he is by my addiction is terrifying.

“Now think about that,” he murmurs huskily, his thumb ghosting my bottom lip. “Think about that in twenty-four hours when your challenge is up and you’re bent in front of me, legs open, waiting for me to sink inside you. Think about that while you
wait
for it.”

“You’re a twat,” I whisper, using his word.

“I’m
your
twat. See? It makes a difference.” He kisses me again, curling his fingers around the back of my neck. “And I’m not ashamed to admit I’m yours. When you’re smiling at me, when you’re lying there in underwear you have no idea is sexy, when you’re fucking me and clinging to my hair like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment…I’m yours.”

I say nothing, letting this moment linger. Letting his words hover between us, embracing them, holding on to them…getting addicted to them. To the underlying current of power in every syllable. To the smooth way he strung them all together and the way he never stopped to take a breath. To the inflection in the word ‘yours.’

Addicted to the way he didn’t have to think for a second about saying them.

Addicted to the way they’re making me feel.

Safe. Warm. Cherished. Protected.

Owned.

I take a deep breath that shudders through my body. The combination of his breath mingling with mine and the tingle of his palm against my neck is heady and intoxicating.

Right now, dizzy from his words and the response they’ve elicited inside me, I want to give in.

I want to tell him yes.

I want to tell him we can do that. That, despite our addictions, two opposite poles, we can make it work.

But I don’t. I can’t—because I can’t promise what I might not be able to fulfill. That’s the bottom line. The intensity of my addiction could destroy us. It could tear us into a thousand unfixable pieces, because the only coping method I truly know is avoidance.

Not putting myself in a place where I can get addicted is how I cope with it.

“Come on,” Ty says, trailing his fingers around my neck and dropping his hand. He grabs my hands and pulls me against him. “I want to show you something.”

“What?”

His lips twitch into a smirk. “You’ll see.”

“This is such an Aaron move.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Book out the whole Eiffel Tower. Really? What the hell makes you think it’s necessary?”

“I don’t abuse the money I have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to spend it sometimes.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Um, you own one of the most expensive cars on the market right now, you had me brought to your apartment in a private car, and you’ve just booked out the Eiffel Tower. Spending it is forcing me to buy pretty things on the
Champs
-
Élysées
.” I poke him in the arm.

“Trust me,” he whispers into my ear, settling his arm around my shoulders. “You’re worth every single penny I have.”

I want to roll my eyes, but the moment he finishes speaking, we step out of the elevator. And my breath is taken away by the view before me. Paris—every inch of it—is spread out in front of me.

I walk around the platform. Notre Dame. Le Palais. A thousand other incredibly beautiful landmarks I can’t begin to mention. The buildings that line every block, every street, their rooftops covered with flowers in random bursts of brightness. Even through the gentle grey of the clouds hovering above us in the sky, Paris from above is so fucking beautiful that it almost hurts to look at it.

“I want to tell you a secret,” Tyler whispers, coming up behind me and resting his hands on either side of mine on the railing. “The way you’re looking around now is the way I feel every time I look at you.”

He touches his lips to my neck at the same time that my lungs fill with air. I don’t believe him. There is no way he or anyone else on Earth can feel the sense of awe and wonderment I feel right now by just looking at a person.

I don’t care how perfect he thinks we are. I don’t care if he thinks I’m the most beautiful woman on Earth. I care about the way this city mesmerizes me and almost pulls me into another dimension with its beauty.

I don’t believe for a second that Ty feels that when he looks at me.

He runs his nose across the base of my neck. My coat is pushed down by his neck, and a chilly wind wraps around us. I’m glad for my gloves, which are keeping my fingers warm, and even gladder for Tyler’s breath on my neck. He’s keeping
me
warm.

“What did you mean when you said you don’t abuse your money?” I say suddenly, my attention shifting fully from the view to the man behind me.

He smiles against my skin. “Why don’t we head to the restaurant for a drink?”

I nod my agreement and allow him to lead me into the elevator and then into the restaurant. It gives incredible views of Paris, and I settle onto a plush chair by a window. Tyler orders us both a cup of coffee. I raise my eyebrow to his laughter.

“I’m tired,” he offers as a pathetic explanation.

“Coming from the man who demanded round three at two a.m. I’d imagine you are tired.”

He grins across the table. “I love being inside you and having you scratch at my back while you scream my name. What can I say? Sue me, baby girl.”

Believe me, suing him is something I have no intention of doing. Especially not for sexual reasons.

I lean the side of my head against the window with a smile tugging my lips. “You can answer my question now.”

“Fine.” He nudges my feet with his beneath the table. “I mean I’m the enigma in my family. I don’t live in suits or jeans that cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars. My shirts aren’t tailored and I don’t get driven somewhere like some fucking incapable prick.” He smirks when I raise my eyebrows. “I like nice things. I love my car and I like having decent clothes, but decent doesn’t have to mean break-the-bank expensive. I’d rather Levi’s over Armani any day of the week.”

I study him for a moment. He’s really telling the truth. “Wow. You’re nothing like Aaron, are you? This”—I wave my hand— “aside.”

“I have money, Liv, and I have a lot of it. Like I said, I sold my share of my parents’ back to them. I don’t have to work if I don’t want to. I could live very comfortably for the rest of my life.”

The waiter two mugs of coffee in front of us. I lift mine.

“How rich is rich?” I ask. “Out of curiosity. You talk about it like it’s…nothing.”

His smirk is evident even over his cup of coffee. “I’m a millionaire. Several times over.”

I choke on the hot liquid in my mouth.
Holy fucking Batman shit.
“Seriously?”

“As serious as I’m sitting here right now. Like I said, I have money, I just choose not to use it a lot. My job pays for my apartment and my car and your underwear.” His lips tug up. “The rest of it is…just there. It’s a trust fund. Untouched for the most part.”

I set my cup down on the mat in front of me. I drop my eyes from his and run my finger around the rim of it. “Is that why you don’t have relationships? Because you’re afraid they’ll use you for your money?”

“I’m not afraid of relationships. I have an addiction to sex, not a phobia of commitment.”

His words sting. They do. Right from my head to my toes.

“But yes. That’s the main reason I never pursued a relationship in London. Everyone there knew who I was and what I was worth. Here in Seattle, well. I guess I just never found someone worth having a relationship for.”

His gaze burns into me.

“Until now,” he finishes.

“I wish I could be that girl.” My words are so quiet that they’re practically a whisper.

It’s true.

I wish I weren’t afraid. I wish I could tackle him with the impulsiveness I tackled Aaron’s new bar with. I wish I could throw every piece of bullshit away and give him the thing he wants, because godfuckingdammit! He deserves it.

He deserves happiness. He deserves smiles and security and certainty. Something I can’t offer.

Tyler reaches across the table and links his fingers through mine. He lifts our hands from the table and stares at me. Just stares, his gaze intense and shiver-inducing. And constant—until I finally give in to the buzz from his hand and look up.

“You are, baby girl. You’re that person and so much more.” He brings my knuckles to his mouth and kisses each one slowly. “You’re the woman I never knew I was waiting for. The one I never knew I wanted or needed.”

I take those words. I take them and I curl my fingers around them and I pull them to my chest. I lock them away in my heart, inadvertently giving it a reason to beat. A reason to keep going through the doubts and the worries and the insecurities.

I give it the reason to stay.

No, I don’t. He does.

With a handful of words, he’s changed everything. With something so simple, a phrase so small, I know nothing will be the same. I know my decision is harder.

Because he’s everything I never knew I wanted. He’s the thing that makes me tick. He makes my skin hum with life and my stomach tighten with anticipation. He makes my eyes burn with tears of pleasure and my lungs tighten with emotion.