Wild Temptation (Wild, #1)(35)

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.

I take a deep breath, making my chest heave. He doesn’t touch me. His forearms rest against the door on either side of my head and his hips hover just above mine. I still feel him—everywhere. His breath fanning across my lips. His thumbs flirting with my hair. His thigh brushing mine as he steps forward.

“You’re not the only one hiding things, Liv. You’re not the only one who thinks they’re unable to hold down something for more than one night.” He breathes the words over my mouth, his lips millimeters from mine. “I want to understand you. I want to know why you’re pushing me away when it’s not really what you want.”

I blink at him. “What if I want to know yours, too?”

Tyler dips his head and kisses the tender spot below my ear. “I’ll tell you mine if you promise to tell me yours,” he whispers.

“You first?”

He nods, pulling his head back, and looks at me. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I say on an exhale.

He pushes off the door and waves a hand over his shoulder for me to follow.

This whole conversation feels like something out of elementary school. Bargaining for what you want. Bribing. Promises.

Except, this time, the stakes are higher.

“Sit. Drink?” He pulls open his large fridge.

“Water, please. Driving,” I remind him when he glances at me.

“One glass won’t hurt you, Liv. And if you really don’t want to drive, I’ll call a car to take you home and bring you back in the morning to get your car.”

“I—”

“Love to fight me on every little fucking thing,” he finishes with a smirk. He hands me the wine, grabs a beer, and ushers me into his front room.

The brown, leather sofa curves around the corner of the room, and the glass coffee table in front of it has more than one mark on it. My lips quirk at the thought of him spilling something on it and wiping it with his hand, leaving the smears on the surface. There’s even an empty cookie bag on the table.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“So I need to tidy a little. I wasn’t expecting company.” He takes my glass and sets it on the table. “Sit down.”

I ease myself down onto the plush sofa, but apparently I’m moving too slowly, because he grabs my waist and pulls me back. I shriek, clapping my hand over my mouth as I fall back onto the sofa. Tyler laughs, one of his arms still around me. I elbow him and smack his chest at the same time.

“You asshole.”

He grins. “It loosened you up, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I admit, pulling my legs up to my chest. “It did.”

“So.”

“So you said you’d go first. Tell me your secret, Tyler Stone.”

“I’m a sex addict.”





A sex addict?

Another addictive personality? Oh, fucking shit. Just when I thought this situation couldn’t get worse, he admits that. And not just any addictive personality—one addicted to a physical act.

This cements in my mind that I can’t see him. How can I? He’s addicted to sex. I’m addicted to love. What a fucking hoo-haa.