Wild Temptation (Wild, #1)(42)

“Yeah?” He cups my jaw and turns my face to his. “Since you refuse to stay here, make sure you dream of me.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain I will.”

“I look forward to hearing about it.”

“What makes you think I’ll be telling you anything about it at all?”

“What do you mean?”

I open his door and smile sexily over my shoulder. “Why, Tyler, honey. You’re the one in control in the bedroom. So I guess my dreams will have to stay just that—dreams.”

I close the door behind me on his hissed curse. That’s what he gets for asking me to stay the night.

I hope he goes to bed with a raging fucking hard-on, wondering what I’m dreaming about.

Take that, you sexy son of a bitch.



“You could at least let me put clean panties on before you come barging in here like you own the place.”

My best friend looks at me like I’m crazy. Well, maybe I am. I am wrapped in a Hello Kitty towel.

“By all means, Liv. Put some panties on. Never mind the rest of your damn clothes.” She rolls her eyes and sits on my sofa. “Never mind that we have, like, ten bridal stores to scour today to find your dress.”

“Okay, Bridezilla. The bridal stores will still be there in an hour. It’s not like aliens are going to suddenly appear and beam them all up.”

She shoots me the kind of look that would crumble diamond and I grin. Bitch doesn’t bother me. I wiggle my fingers at her and prance into my bedroom. I’m just pulling a bra out of my drawer when she yells at me.

“I know you fucked him last night!”

“Fucked who? My vibrator?”

“Tyler.”

I snort. “Please tell me how you worked that out.”

“You look freshly fucked.”

“I just got out of the shower. How can I look freshly fucked?”

She appears in my doorway. It’s a good thing she’s seen me in my underwear a thousand times, because that’s the sight she gets. At least she gave me a chance to put panties on.

“Your eyes are shiny. And you’re smiling when you shouldn’t be.”

“You’re full of bullshit.”

“You smiled then.” She sits on the bed, and I look in the mirror. No smile. Day grins triumphantly. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

“I plead the Fifth.” I pull some jeans on.

“Olivia Jade Warren, you tell me right now.”

“Really? You want to know about my sexcapades with someone who’ll be your family in two and a half months?”

“Well, there’s the truth I was hoping wasn’t true.” She sighs and leans back, hugging her knees.

I roll my eyes. “Relax, Mom. I’m a big girl now. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you know what you’re doing, sweetie, but I don’t think you’re actually thinking.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shove a sweater over my head and glare at her.

“You’ve already admitted that Tyler sets your alarm bells ringing. What if…you know. You get addicted and then—”

“History is history for a reason,” I snap, cutting her off and grabbing my hairdryer. “It’s so people learn from mistakes made before. Believe me, I have no inclination to repeat that mistake.”

I turn the dryer on, effectively ending our conversation, and ignore the way she’s staring at me through the mirror. I don’t want to go back to the past—I don’t want to think about the extreme my addiction to someone led me to. It’s a dark place.

Teenage love and a real addiction aren’t two things that mesh well. Or of course, you could say they go hand in hand… If you like your hand-holding destructive and potentially life threatening.

Eighteen-year-old me and twenty-five-year-old me are worlds apart. I’m strong where she was weak. I’m sassy, confident, determined. She was quiet, shy, reluctant.

Seven years is a long time to grow up. Seven years is a long time to grasp a handle on something that was once out of control. On something that could have destroyed more than just my heart.

I set the hairdryer down, banishing those thoughts from my mind. There are reasons I don’t think about those months, and the vulnerability is one of them. Thinking about them opens me up and scares me. One day, I’ll have to remember that bullshit and truly accept my own stupidity before I can move on.

Right now, though, I’m more than happy to move under and over. Preferably another person.

“Okay,” I say, breaking the tense silence. I screw the top back on my mascara. “I’m ready. Where are we going first?”

“Seraphina Bridal,” Dayton replies without missing a beat. Our previous conversation is tucked away. Both of us know better than to push each other on sensitive subjects.