Wild Temptation (14 page)

There are several rules to a no-strings relationship.

No getting to know each other. No dinner dates. No casual kisses or touches in public. And absolutely no snuggling after sex.

I’ve always been okay with this. Even now, my rational mind says that I’m okay with the way Tyler up and left after. After all, this is what I want. It fulfills everything. There’s no stickiness and my stupid and crazy desire for him can be sated.

Or I can attempt to sate it. I woke up more than once last night tangled in my sheets with a damning ache between my legs. My dreams were endless replays of last night, and his words seemed to echo through my dream world.

Even now, six hours after waking up, I can remember the dreams as vividly as I remember the real thing. Perhaps my dreams and my memory have merged into one, into something more intense and beyond reality.

Or perhaps I’m just thinking of that freakin’ crazy orgasm again.

“Shit!” I knock my coffee mug off the counter and jump to the side to avoid the hot splash. Angus does what I assume is the cat version of a shriek and leaps up onto the table. The water is kind of close to the food bowl. “Sorry, buddy,” I mutter, grabbing a cloth and throwing it on the puddle.

What a waste of good coffee.

I dump the cloth in the laundry basket in the bathroom and walk back through to the kitchen. I’ve never had a problem with no-strings relationships or the up-and-leave thing. With Ross, my “ex,” it was a common thing. We’d see each other three or four times a week, have sex, then one of us would leave depending where we were.

We grabbed dinner maybe once or twice a month depending on our work hours. If I worked in the afternoon and didn’t have time to eat before we met up, one of us would grab takeout. It was always prearranged and, in the end, half eaten. There’s no fun in sitting with someone you don’t know a lot about.

Of course, maybe if I’d gotten to know him, I would have realized he was fucking another girl at the same time. Not that I’d ever demanded monogamy; I’d simply—and stupidly—assumed we were only sleeping with each other. Needless to say, turning up at his apartment and finding him with his face between someone else’s legs was a bit of a shock.

But it didn’t hurt. It pissed me off, but it didn’t hurt me. We weren’t in a relationship. I didn’t crave his touch or need him around. It truly was casual sex. My addiction never reared its ugly head. It never nudged at the back of my mind or tingled in my fingers when he was near.

Not the way it does with Tyler. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s just sex. Casual. Fuck buddies. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. But I know it’s more than that.

Whatever we have won’t be the standard no-strings relationship. I’m kidding myself if I think that it will be, because there are already strings. Our lives are already intertwined through his cousin and my best friend. Our paths will cross on occasion, perhaps more than I’d like them to.

They’re small strings. Tiny, microscopic strings no stronger than a spider’s web, but they’re there. And that’s enough to scare me.

What I should do is text Tyler and tell him that I don’t know what I was thinking. That a no-strings relationship will never work with us, because I love the strings. I hate them and I love them. They’re my downfall, my temptation.

I should tell him that I’m in love with love, and that’s why our matching outlooks on no-strings relationships will eventually fall apart. Eventually, I will want more than he can give.

Eventually, I will want all of him. Every little inch of his body and his mind will be needed by me. More than that, I’ll want his heart and his soul. I’ll crave it.

That fear, of needing someone so badly you’re blinded by it, floods through my body. It’s strong, all-encompassing, and I wrap my arms around myself. My hands are shaking.

I can see it. Of all my triggers, Tyler is my biggest one yet. He knows what I want in bed. He knows how to work my body, and as soon as I get addicted to that, the rest will follow. It’ll follow in a wild burst of temptation and obsession that I won’t be able to resist.

So I do what I should have done days ago, and I grab my phone, still trembling.

Last night was a mistake. I shouldn’t have agreed with you. I’m sorry. I can’t see you this way.

“Yeah, yeah.” I put Old Dill’s pint in front of him and hold out my hand. “Come on. Your tab is at the limit, and if you’re to be believed, you got paid on Friday.”

He grins, crow’s-feet appearing by his eyes, and digs into his pocket. He pulls out his wallet and dumps two hundred dollars in twenties on the bar. “Here you go, darlin’. That’ll keep Donny off your back.”

“Thank you.” I sweep the bills up and ring it up on the register. “Now you’re clean again.”

“Ready to start the next one,” he chuckles, taking a long drink from his pint.

I roll my eyes and walk to the middle of the bar to serve the people waiting. Friday nights are always hell, especially around this time. Everyone’s done with dinner and they’ve decided that, instead of staying in their pretty, little restaurant, they’ll hit the bars.

The sudden rush eases off, leaving the bar blissfully empty. I hand a pair of college girls their bottle of wine and two glasses and they take a seat at the table in the corner. But they’re not the only ones sitting there.

Through the rush, I didn’t see him come in. I didn’t see him walk in and take a seat in the corner, and I definitely haven’t felt him watching me. He is though.

Tyler’s dark eyes are fixed on me. His gaze is so intense, almost as if he thinks I’ll disappear if he looks away. He wouldn’t be wrong—I might just run out the back door when my shift is done. I’d have to be damn stupid to not know why he’s here.

He’s here because he’ll ask me questions I don’t want to answer. Questions I don’t have to answer.

I think of that as I finish up the last hour of my shift. I fuck up more than once—overfilling a pint glass, dropping a wine glass, spilling cranberry juice over the bar. Like a fucking bartending newbie. Everything I can fuck up, I do. Plain and simple.

And it’s because of him. Because he unnerves the crap out of me.

Rosie rests a hand on my shoulder and smiles. “I’ll take it from here, Liv. Pete will be here in ten minutes. You go home.”

“Thanks.” I smile gratefully and walk into the storeroom. I make sure not to look at Tyler as I walk away.

I grab my coat and shrug it on, turning my hood the right way out and pulling it over my head. It could be pathetic trying to run, but right now, I don’t care. I don’t see it as weak or pathetic. I see running as knowing when shit is too much for you to deal with. That’s strong, not weak.

“Nice try.”

I stop and pull my hood around my face. And carry on walking toward my car.

“Are you just going to ignore me?”

I unlock my car and take a deep breath. “Actually, I was kind of hoping I could leave before you noticed. But yeah. Ignoring was plan B.”

“I’m not sure whether I should be pissed off at you for trying to run or think you’re fucking adorable for thinking you can.”

“Go with both. It’s a happy medium,” I quip, pulling my car door open. I get in just as the passenger’s side door opens and Tyler joins me. I sigh.

“So. Do you want to explain that text?”

“What text?” I feign ignorance.

He spins in his seat and pins me with his gaze. His angry gaze. “Don’t fuck with me, Liv. I promised you exactly what you want—no motherfucking strings, and you agreed. And now you’re fuckin’ running from me like I’ve proposed.”

I open my mouth to speak but close it again and look away.

“If you really don’t want to see me that badly, then say it now and I’ll get out of this car. The only time you’ll see me will be if Bridezilla shoves us together and I’ll keep my hands to myself. Just like you claimed to want once.” He leans forward, his fingers creeping onto my seat. “But I don’t think you know what you want, do you, baby girl?”

I want you to go. I want you to never touch me again
.

I want you. I want your body over mine, hot and heavy. I want you to explain why you walked out last night without even a goodbye like I was nothing but a common whore.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I say softly. “It’s that I can’t. There are things you don’t know about me, Ty. Things that you wouldn’t be able to deal with. Trust me when I say you staying away from me is for the best.”

“How do you know I wouldn’t be able to deal with it? Have you asked me?”

I tuck some hair behind my ear and glance at him from the side. “I don’t need to ask.
I
can barely cope with my crap. In fact,
you
are the reason I can’t. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re dangerous. I just failed to mention how dangerous you are for me.”

He sighs gently, his eyes softening. “I’m not talking to you in your car. Drive to my place and we’ll talk. Just talk, okay?” he adds when I open my mouth to protest.

“We’ve barely had a conversation that hasn’t ended up with your tongue down my throat,” I say dryly, starting the engine.

“I promise to behave.” He reaches over and takes my hand. I immediately take it back, and he sighs again.

Hand-holding is stringy.

Although, mind you, this situation is about as fucking stringy as it gets.

I follow his directions to his place. He lives a few blocks from my apartment, but it’s a much more expensive neighborhood than mine. Figures. I pause in the car when he gets out.

Do I really want to do this? Talk to him? I don’t owe him anything. I don’t owe him an explanation of who I am or why I am the way I am.

Tyler opens my door and looks down at me expectantly. “It’s too late to run, Liv. You already had your chance to tell me to go, and you didn’t. So now we’re gonna talk.”

Reluctantly, I put my hand in his and allow him to pull me from my car. I lock it and try to tug my hand from his grip. He holds me tighter, his fingers squeezing mine. Stuck holding his hand, I follow him silently past the doorman and into the building.

Marble floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Leather chairs.

I’m gonna place a bet that one of these apartments costs more than I’ll ever earn. I’m so out of my depth here—this is like a whole other world.

He pulls me into the elevator after him. I half-expect him to push the button for the penthouse apartment, but he doesn’t. He presses the button for the floor below. He catches me watching the pad and lightly squeezes my hand.

“I don’t need a penthouse. I’m not a flashy bastard like my cousin.”

My lips twitch. Yeah, Aaron is kind of flashy in an oddly discreet way. I know about that Ferrari. “No Ferrari for you, then?”

“No. I’d be too tempted to drive the bloody thing and no one in their right mind drives a 458 Italia. Unless they’re on the Nürburgring or something.”

“What’s that?”

“A 458 Italia?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yes, because I have no idea what that is.” I roll my eyes. “No, the ring thing.”

“Oh. It’s a racetrack in Germany. Deadly. Crazy fast. I’ll drive a 458 round there one day.” He grins and it’s so beautifully boyish, so mischievous, that my heart thumps loudly.

We step out from the elevator and Tyler digs in his pocket for his key. He unlocks his apartment and pulls me inside. Quicker than I can comprehend it, he slams the door, locks it, and pins me against it.