Wild Temptation (6 page)

His lips tug up on one side. “It can be.”

“No, it can’t be.” I put my own money down. “Because no guy spends that much on dinner for a woman unless he’s expecting to get laid after, and I already made my position on that very, very clear.”

He raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair. “So buy yourself dinner. That doesn’t mean there’s no chance of you getting laid tonight.”

I zip my purse up calmly and stand, pulling it over my shoulder. “Some women can take care of themselves. That’s why some clever bastard invented the vibrator.”

Dayton muffles her laugh with her hand, and I look at her, keeping a straight face.

“Thanks for the
invitation
to join you for dinner, but I have to get back. Angus will be going crazy.” I kiss her cheek. “Call me with the damn cake details, okay?”

“Of course. Thanks for accepting my dinner
invitation.
” She winks, and my lips twitch.

Sometimes, it’s hard to remember we’re not still in high school. That’s the great thing about a lifelong friendship – you never have to grow up around one another.

I say goodbye to Aaron, ignore Tyler, and make my way through the restaurant. I dig into my purse for my keys, berating myself for pointlessly zipping it up. Idiot. The host bids me goodbye, and I step onto the sidewalk, turning for the direction of the parking lot. Still digging for my keys. Fuck me, I need to buy a smaller purse.

I find my car in the parking lot and head toward it. My fingers brush the cold metal as I reach my car, but I’m grabbed and turned before I can get a grip on them.

“What the fuck!” I shriek, finding myself pinned against my car by another pair of hips and two strong hands.

“Shush,” Tyler whispers. “You’ll wake the dead.”

I glare at him. “There are no graveyards near here. And what part of ‘don’t touch me’ are you failing to understand?”

“The part in which you mean it, babe.” He grins lopsidedly.
Don’t look at the dimple. Don’t look at the dimple. Don’t look at the…
Oh, the dimple.

“Shall I try again? Don’t. Touch. Me,” I say, punctuating each word, making sure they’re perfectly clear.

He presses his hips against mine harder and my body betrays my words as my clit throbs. Slowly, he pushes one of his legs between mine, and I bite down on my bottom lip.

“Oh, that part. Still not believing you.” He releases one of my wrists and dives his hand into my hair. “It came to my attention during dinner that you’re rather mouthy.”

“I’m an independent woman. Being a sarcastic, mouthy bitch is an occupational hazard.”

His laugh is low, and the way it shakes his body makes his thigh rub against my core. I bite my lip again.
Holy crap
.

“Ah, yes. The independent woman.” Tyler drops his face and brushes a kiss against my jaw. “Vibrator and all.”

My cheeks flush. Why, oh why, did I have to mention the vibrator?

He kisses his way down my jaw, his fingers flexing at both my wrist and the back of my head.

“Tyler, get the fuck off of me.” Before I spontaneously combust because it’s getting damn hot out here.

“Mouthy,” he whispers.

He presses his lips to mine before I can do anything about it, and the action takes me totally by surprise. I gasp, opening my mouth, and he takes his opportunity. His tongue dives into my mouth and flicks against mine.

Against my better judgment, I kiss him back. It’s impossible not to when I’m pinned beneath him and he’s dominating my mouth so entirely. His thigh pressed against me is pushing the seam of my jeans against my clit, and like he knows, he shifts his leg.

He draws his tongue out of my mouth and kisses me normally with an odd mixture of force and softness. His lips are soft but his kiss is hard, and it makes for a heady combination that affects way more than just my fucking head.

“So it is possible to shut you up,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of my lips.

I drop my free hand from his shirt. “It’s possible, yes, but you won’t like what happens if you try it again.”

Tyler pulls back and cups my jaw. “Next time I try and shut you up, it won’t be with my mouth. It’ll be with my cock.”

He releases me as suddenly as he grabbed me. A smug grin spreads across his handsome face as he walks backward and pulls some keys from his pocket. My heart pounds threateningly in my chest, and everywhere he touched me, I’m tingling.

Tingling with excitement, loss, wanting, I don’t know.

“Still don’t want me to touch you?” he calls just before he climbs into his Mercedes.

I’m not going to justify that with a response. Likely because I’ll say the wrong thing, because right now, I very much want him to touch me.

I get into my own car and pull away, going in the opposite direction of him. Dining downtown means I’m only minutes from my apartment. Meaning there’s only minutes of feeling that aching sensation in my lower stomach and my core before I can get rid of it.

I park and take the elevator upstairs. As I suspected, Angus stares at me angrily when I open the door. He jumps from the table and goes to sit by his food bowl with a loud meow.

“All right, all right.” I slam the door, dump my purse, and grab him some biscuits. He meows again when I dump a load in his bowl. “Oh, fuck off, cat. I forgot to go to the store.”

He turns his back on me.

Now if only it were that easy to get Tyler away from me.

C
ake. There is cake everywhere. Every-fucking-where. Normal cake. Chocolate cake. Cheesecake. Red velvet cake. Ooh,
Red velvet cake
…

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. We are in a bakery, after all, but just the sight of all the cake is making me feel a little sick. I haven’t tasted a thing yet, but I’d bet I’ll be ready to vomit pretty damn soon if the platter in front of me is anything to go by.

I eye it warily, and Dayton nudges me. “It’s just cake.”

“It’s a lot of cake. I mean, how many different types of cake are there?”

She looks around the bakery. “A lot, evidently.”

“Why do we have to try them all?” I pick up a chocolate cake sample and look at the label. “Chocolate fudge cake,” I read. “Well, we both know what that tastes like.”

She grabs my wrist before I can put it down. “Liv, humor me, please?”

I turn my face toward her. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

She tries for an annoyed look, but the twitch of her lips ruins it. “You’re an idiot.”

I shove the sample in my mouth with a bored look on my face. She laughs.

“Hey,” I say when I‘ve swallowed it. “That was good. Bit much for a wedding cake though.”

Dayton rolls her eyes. “Try some normal cake.” She hands me a bit, eating one herself. “No,” she mumbles with her mouth full.

I agree. It tastes fucking awful. “Next.”

“Yep.” She takes the label.

“Great. Can we go now?”

“What? No. We’re not done.”

“But you just chose one!” I protest, looking at the clock.

“For a short list. I’m making Aaron come in next week. We need to pick the best ones.” She glances at me slyly. “And I want to know why Tyler chased you out of the restaurant last night.”

I grab some cake and eat it. Mmm, lemon. This is good.

“Nice try,” Dayton laughs. “The last time I saw him move that quickly was because one of the models he slept with got a little attached.”

“I have no idea why he chased me.” It’s kind of honest. I don’t actually know why he came out after me. “But it’s a waste of his time.”

“Yeah, and I’m a virgin.”

I snort. “Seriously. You just told me everything I need to know about him. He does no strings, full stop. I do no strings until I find someone who’s strong enough to deal with my…quirky personality trait.”

My best friend’s lips curve. “Tyler’s kind of intense.”

“Kind of?” I raise my eyebrows. “I have no idea what he’s doing. We don’t really know each other.” An image of his hands trailing up my thighs hits me. “Except physically. Physically, we’re very well acquainted.”

“Just…be careful. I know I said it yesterday, but I mean it. Tyler is a lot like Aaron. Maybe worse. If Ty wants something, he’s not going to stop until he gets it.”

“Translation,” I say around a mouthful of cake. “If Tyler Stone wants me, I’m fucked. Figuratively and literally.”

She nods, chewing cake. “Ew. What is this?”

“Not on the list, that’s what.” I grab my purse. “I have to go to work. I’ll call you soon.”

I hang my coat in the back room and relieve Jeanie of her shift. She waves goodbye with a thankful expression, and I know instantly that Old Dill is in the bar.

Old Dill, or Dillon Bruce, is one of the loveliest old men I’ve ever met. When he’s sober. When he’s had a few ales, he turns into a humorous old letch with a roving eye over all the bar girls.

This happens on a regular basis, given that my boss is a bit of a pig who insists on only having young people behind his bar. Young girls bring in the guys and young guys bring in the girls.

Tonight, Jeanie has brought in Old Dill and kindly left him for me. And judging by the grin on his face, he’s not totally hammered. Yet.

“Liv,” he croons my name like he’s a ‘50s singer. I’ve heard him on karaoke—Frank Sinatra he is not.

“Dill.” I shoot him my best smile. “How are you this evening?”

“Better for seeing you, darlin’. Can I have another?” He waves his empty glass in front of me.

“Sure thing.” I take the glass. “What are you having tonight? Phil’s? Baxters?”

“Baxters, darlin’.”

I place the glass under the tap and bring the handle down until his glass is full. “On your tab?” I question before handing it back.

Old Dill nods and I place it on the bar in front of him. I add the drink to his tab and turn to serve a young couple.

I hand them two glasses of wine, take the guy’s bill, and turn to the till. I hear him send the girl to the table, and when I hand him his change, he leans across the bar.

“Excuse me. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“If I can,” I respond.

“I, er,” he stutters. “I’m planning on proposing to my girlfriend tonight.”

“Congratulations.”
Ugh, please don’t ask me to bring the ring in a champagne glass or something.

“Do you serve champagne?”

Fuck me. “We do.”

“Could you bring a bottle of your finest over in around half an hour, please? If you add it to a tab, I’ll pay before I leave.”

I force a sweet smile. “Of course. I’d love to!”

“Thank you.” He returns my smile gratefully and takes his change from my hand, returning to his girlfriend.

Old Dill chuckles. “Speaking of proposing. Still no ring on that finger?”

Here we go.
I fill his glass again and put it in front of him. I swipe my card down the till and bring up his tab. “Nope, no ring.”

One of the barstools scrapes at the other end of the bar and I half-glance in that direction. “I’ll be with you in a moment,” I call before turning back to Old Dill. “Gonna pay this tab any time soon? The boss will kick my ass if it isn’t paid by the end of the week.”