He might be addicted to sex, but I don’t think he’s ever experienced true addiction.
“Trust me,” he whispers. “You’re a little wild and I’m a little wild, and together, we’re a whole lot tempted. But just trust me.”
I say yes.
12
My phone rings, breaking through the silence. I grab it and hold my breath when my agent’s name flashes on the screen.
“Sheila,” I answer.
“Liv! Fantastic news. Balfour are interested in you coming in for a test shoot. Are you free Thursday?”
“What time?”
“Between twelve and three.”
I run through my shifts in my head. “Yes, at twelve. I’m supposed to work at one, but Donny won’t mind.” As long as I wear an extra-tight, extra-low-cut shirt that day.
“Fabulous. I’ll call them back to confirm. Also, you should know they’re testing twenty girls.”
“Ouch.”
“That was my first thought—but I have confidence in you, Liv. And I have a question.”
“Hmm?”
“Were you comfortable shooting with Tyler Stone?”
Oh, I was comfortable all right. “Yep.”
“Great. Because he’s the photographer.”
Bridezilla is in full force. Her new catering company has just gone bust, leaving her with no food for the wedding. Again. She’s currently yelling angrily into the phone at the owner, who called to inform her of the bad news.
Bad news. Yep. Try rephrasing that to catastrophic.
“Do you think she’s on her period?” Tyler whispers.
I snort. “No. She doesn’t have them.” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I pull my hoodie down my arm. I tap the inside of my upper arm. “Implant. Stops them.”
“You don’t get periods?”
“What part of ‘stops them’ is hard for you to understand?”
“We’re eloping,” Dayton announces, throwing the phone on the sofa. It bounces onto the floor. “We’ll disappear somewhere and get married in secret, and these useless companies can go f**k themselves.”
“And there’s the control freak,” I mutter.
Tyler covers his hand with his mouth.
“Day, sweetheart.” Aaron runs his hands down her arms and soothes her. “We can find someone else to do the food. We have plenty of time.”
“Right.” She snorts. “Because you’d hate it if we ran off this weekend to get married.”
“I can’t say I’m averse to the idea, but I know that’s not what you want. You want it all, so I’m giving you it all. Yes, it’s hard work, but it’ll be worth it in the end.”
“Do you want a glass of wine?” Tyler asks hesitantly.
Dayton shoots him a hard look. I pat his thigh and cross to the bar. Opening the cupboard, I run my eyes over the bottles until I find a bottle of tequila.
Bingo, baby.
I pour her two shots’ worth into a glass. I nudge Aaron out of the way and hand her the glass. She drains it in one go, turning around to put the glass on the bar.
“Blech.” She screws her face up and shivers. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I smirk and join Tyler back on the sofa.
“What the…” He watches in amazement as Day opens her laptop and starts calmly tapping at the keys. “What did you just do?”
I smile smugly. “That’s why I’m the maid of honor.”
Aaron leans on the back of sofa. “What did you give her?”
“Tequila.”
“Tequila?”
“You think wine is gonna calm that crazy down? No, Aaron. You need something a bit stronger.”
“Shit,” he mutters. “I wish I’d known that when I dragged her around the world with me.”
I laugh when he joins her at the bar. I laugh even harder when she shouts at Tyler for that glass of wine he offered. When he doesn’t move, she snaps his name and yells at Aaron not to pour a glass, all without looking away from the screen.
My stomach is actually hurting from laughing so hard. There’s something beautiful in the moment a man realizes that he wears the pants but his woman controls the zipper.
Apparently, Dayton controls two zippers.
“Come on.” Tyler grabs my hands and pulls me up off the sofa. “We’re going. I’m not taking her crap anymore.”
“Where are we going?”
“Anywhere but here.”
I wave goodbye as he drags me out of the apartment and into the elevator. No sooner have the doors closed than his lips are on mine, hungry and tasting. Devouring and consuming.
“Whoa.” I grab his sweater to steady myself.
“Been wanting to do that since you walked through the door,” he whispers, nibbling down my neck.
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s becoming a habit with you.” He pulls me out of the elevator and toward his car.
Since our wedding disaster summons came at the same time, he called and said that he’d get me. I didn’t realize how idiotic it was to agree until now.
“Well, make sure you don’t do it tomorrow. That would be embarrassing.”
“Tomorrow?”
“The shoot?”
His eyes flick to me. “Shoot? What? Oh—”
“Balfour Swimwear,” I say, spelling it out for him. “I’m one of the models testing.”
“When are you going in?”
“Twelve. I’m working tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh, f**king hell,” he groans, pulling into the parking lot of a bar downtown. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he explains. “That means you’re one of the first. I’m going to be shooting girls all day with a f**king hard-on after you.”
“As long as it’s for me.” I give him a pointed look and get out of the car.
“Hey,” he growls, pulling me against him when he catches up with me. “You better believe it’s for you, baby girl. And I’ll need you to get rid of it after.”
I reach between us and squeeze him lightly. “Looks like tomorrow isn’t your problem right now.”
He grabs my hand and tugs me toward the bar, his gaze heated. “If you behave yourself in here, I might just let you suck it later.”
“Might?” I raise my eyebrows and follow him into the bar. Not like I have a choice. He’s taking me in whether I want to or not.
And I’m trying not to freak about the one hundred thousand million lines this situation is jumping over.