He steps out of the elevator, and the logo on his sweater is of a local private courier company. I frown, sign for the package, and walk back into the apartment. I set it on my kitchen table and study it. The box is plain aside from my name scrawled on it.
Tentatively, I open it and push the tissue paper aside. And I stare right at a f**king blue lingerie set.
Close your eyes, Liv. Deep breaths. Deep brea—
Fuck this shit. I shove my feet in my Uggs and tie my hair in a knot on top of my head, barely stopping to grab a zipped sweater before swiping my car keys and flying down the stairs. That assuming bastard. That annoying, assuming, forceful bastard.
I call Dayton and switch it to hands-free, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Miss me already?”
“Fuck off. Do you know where Tyler is?”
“Already? Really, Liv.”
“Oh, believe me. He’s about to get f**ked. But not in the way he’s hoping.” I grind my teeth together. “Well?”
“He’s at our place. Do you want to speak to him?”
“I will be in approximately five minutes.” I hang up and turn in the direction of their apartment.
By the time I arrive in the building’s underground parking lot, it’s been fifteen minutes, not five, I’ve beeped my horn ten times, flipped someone off twice, and cussed more times than I care to count.
I jab the code for Aaron’s private elevator in and get in. The ride is quick, as if it’s in tune with my anger. When we reach the top floor, I push open the apartment door and storm in.
Tyler’s leaning against the bar, laughing at something. The smile drops from his face when he sees me. “Liv?”
“Who the f**king hell do you think you are?” I walk up to him and shove his chest. “What, I don’t do what you want so you decide you’re going to make me do it anyway?”
“Whoa, calm down, babe.”
“No. I won’t calm down, Tyler. I don’t have to do anything you f**king tell me to because that’s not what we agreed.”
He grabs my wrists and stills me. “Don’t you think we should have this conversation in private?”
“Why?” I challenge him. “It’s not like they don’t know we’re f**king. Although they might be surprised to know just how much of an assuming asshat you are!” I snatch my wrists back.
“Okay. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Liv. It was a present. A gift. Okay?”
“Actually, I think you’re the one who’s got the wrong end of the stick. You buy a girlfriend, fiancée, wife, or someone you’re trying to romance gifts. You don’t buy them for no-strings. The only thing you buy for no-strings is f**king condoms.”
He rubs his hand down his face. “Bloody hell. You’re impossible.”
“I’m impossible? Says the one who’s crossing lines.”
“Crossing lines?”
I take his hundred dollars from my pocket, thankful I thought to grab it when I got my keys, and slap it into his hand. “Crossing lines. Crossing f**king rivers, Tyler. Keep it and go f**k yourself next time you feel so inclined.”
Leaving him, Dayton, and Aaron staring after me, I walk out the same way I came in. Quickly and in a loud burst. This time, though, instead of yelling, it’s the slamming of the apartment door.
Angry tears burn in the backs of my eyes. Of course—just when I finally find someone who wants what I do behind closed doors, he’s an ass**le.
“Liv.”
“Leave me alone,” I say as I step into the elevator. He jumps in after me, and I turn away from him. The elevator stops.
“No. You’ve taken it completely wrong.”
“How did I take that wrong, huh? You tell me to buy something and I don’t do it, so you do. You don’t ask me. You don’t consider anything. You pushed a limit. I told you no strings, and buying shit adds another layer I don’t want.”
“Don’t want or are afraid of?”
I glance over my shoulder. “Don’t want.”
“Then why are you crying?” His voice is soft as he steps up behind me and runs his hands down my uppers arms, his touch warm and comforting.
“Allergies,” I offer lamely, swiping under my eyes. “Please, Ty, go. We’re fooling ourselves if we think this…thing…can work between us.”
“Really? I don’t think we are. In bed, we’re perfect for each other. You get me and I get you.” He wraps his arms around my shoulders and kisses my jaw from behind.
“And out of bed, we bitch like an old married couple.”
“You know what they say about old married couples who bitch.”
“No, I don’t.”
“They bitch because they care. When they stop fighting, that’s when they should worry.”
I swallow and look at the floor. Hasn’t he just hit the nail on the head and banged it right through the f**king wood? I care for him—I do. And not because he’s a great lay. But because, despite how infuriating he is, he’s funny. He can be tender, and no matter how much I kid myself, I kind of like his infuriating. He doesn’t hesitate to challenge me or push my buttons.
Seriously, the arguing really is a sick kind of foreplay.
Tyler spins me. His arms are still around my shoulders, and he rests his chin on top of my head. Despite my orders to stay by my sides, my arms creep up and wrap around his waist.
One tear falls. And another.
Because I’m petrified. I’m so f**king scared of what I was avoiding in the first place.
“See? It’s not hard,” he whispers. “We can be nice to each other outside of the bedroom.”
I laugh quietly. “Only because we’ve already argued.”
“True.” He pulls me tighter to him. “I’ll send it back. If you want. The lingerie.”
I sigh heavily and shake my head. “You don’t have to. I just freaked.”
“No, you didn’t, did you?” he says with false shock.
I pull back and smack his chest, a smile playing on my lips. His dark eyes sparkle down at me, amusement evident in them. Slowly, he presses his lips to mine in a full-bodied kiss that sends shivers down my spine.
This kiss is slow and soft. Tender and deep. It says a thousand things we can’t say out loud. Mine says that I’m afraid, that I can’t have more than what we have now. His responds that maybe I’m not seeing clearly what there is and that there’s no reason to be afraid. And mine says that there is, because he doesn’t know it all.