“Prick!” I snatch my wrists from him, but he’s quicker.
His arms circle my waist and crush me against him, flipping me over and laying me back against his car. His lips take mine in a rough kiss as his body covers me. My hands are grabbed by his and pinned above my head.
My head is screaming at me to make him let go, but my body is softening, molding to his will.
“You could learn how to cocktail-shake all fancy on Google or Wikihow, you know.”
Tyler pushes his hips into mine, his erection just millimeters away from my center. “If I’m shaking anything, it’ll be you, babe. Not a motherfucking cocktail.”
“Then I don’t see the problem.”
“The problem is you.” His voice is low, his mouth hovering just above my ear. There’s a scratchy tenderness to his words—a dangerous one.
“I don’t get it.”
“You never do.” He stands, releasing my wrists. I see him shake him head in the darkness.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I stand, indignant.
“When you know, I’ll tell you.” He pulls his car door open.
“That makes no sense!”
“Neither do you, Olivia. Neither do you.” He gets in, starts the engine, and reverses.
My purse falls to the ground, but I can’t move. I just stand, watching him leave the parking lot.
“Fuck you, Tyler Stone!” I yell after him. Fruitlessly. Pointlessly. He can’t hear me. I’m shouting aimlessly into the darkness, using its nothingness as an outlet for my frustrated anger.
I grab the purse from the ground and stomp upstairs. Straight past the elevator. Halfway up, I pull my shoes off and continue my stomping barefoot. I dig my key out and shove it in the door when Sean’s opens.
“Darling, this was delivered earlier for you.”
I turn and see that he’s holding a plain, white box in his hand. “Uh, thanks.”
“Everything okay?”
“Men are cuntnuggets,” I snap, taking the box.
“Oh, I know that feeling.” He rolls his eyes. “If you need me, I have wine.” He kisses my cheek and disappears into his apartment.
That’s tempting. Really f**king tempting.
Instead of giving in to a gorgeous Sauvignon temptation, I shove open my door and walk in. I dump the shoes and purse inside the door and set the box on my coffee table.
I stare at it accusingly. The last time I got a box like this, it was an unannounced set of underwear from Tyler. The set I happen to be wearing right now, actually.
Still, I can’t have no idea what this could be.
Neither the box nor label gives anything away. I shrug a shoulder, glance at Angus, who is now sitting next to me, and tear off the tape sealing each side.
I open the lid and shove aside the tissue paper. Pale-pink chiffon fills my gaze—not quite baby pink but not quite peach. With shaking hands, I reach out and grab the thick straps. I lift it out, standing as I do.
It’s low cut. Very low cut, actually. There’s no way I can wear a bra with it, but the flowing material from below the bustline falls until roughly my knees. I stare at it for…ages. I don’t know how long, but I only stop when my arms begin to ache.
I… Wow.
I carefully lay it out on the sofa, shoving Angus to one side so he doesn’t ruin it. He meows affectedly and jumps back onto his window ledge.
My eyes find a small envelope in the middle of the box and I lift it out.
You told me you couldn’t go to the party because you’d have nothing to wear. Like you wouldn’t fit in there. You would and you will, and I wasn’t kidding when I said you could wear a paper bag and still look gorgeous. You will.
Still, you need more convincing. So here—a dress that will go with those Louboutins perfectly. I want you in it when I pick you up on Saturday night at 6:30.
You should never feel inferior to the people you’ll easily outshine.
T
Wow.
Wow, wow, wow.
That’s about the only thought I can form at the moment. In fact, I can’t do anything but fight the burn in my eyes.
No wonder he was so pissed off tonight. I’d be angry at me, too. I wish he’d f**king told me he’d done this—at least then I could have apologized for something I didn’t know I was doing on a date I didn’t know was happening.
But still. The guy bought me a dress because he doesn’t want me to feel like I don’t belong at his cousin’s party. And then I was a bit of a bitch to him.
I drop the paper and grab my phone. My eyes fill with angry, guilty tears as I bring up my text messages and click on his name.
You are the sweetest ass**le I’ve ever met. Thank you.
His response is almost immediate.
No coming round to kick my ass?
Not this time. I’m sorry about earlier.
Me too. I was a bit of an ass.
A bit?
Ha. Funny girl. By the way, Liv?
What?
It was still a date.
My lips curve infinitesimally. “I know,” I whisper.
I know. Not much of a first date. You’ll need a do-over on Saturday.
My phone rings. His name flashes on the screen, and I answer. Before I can say anything, he says, “Saturday will be the best first date of your damn life, woman. Don’t doubt it for a f**king second. Be ready for six thirty or I’ll be forced to spank you.”
He hangs up on my gasp.
Holy.
Crapping.
Hell.
17
I’m wearing the dress.
And I’m late.
And I’m not particularly caring right now, because Tyler Stone in a suit is the sexiest thing this side of the motherfrigging universe.
The deep-navy jacket is tailored to him and hugs him perfectly while his matching pants are perfectly pressed but still show the curve of his tight ass. From shiny shoes to a perfectly knotted black tie, he looks f**king hot. Really sexy. Handsome. I don’t even know.
“Are you done looking yet?”
“No.” I drink him in with my eyes once more. “I think I might have to go commando. You and a suit together should come with some kind of panty-wetting warning.”
A smug smirk curls his lips. “Get in the car, Liv.” He opens the door and it bumps me into his body. “And we’ll see if I can’t do something about those wet panties.” He practically shoves me into the back seat and presses a button on a small intercom. “Drive for a while.”
He practically shoves me into the back seat and presses a button on a small intercom. “Drive for a while.”
That’s it. No questions asked. Drive while I do whatever I’m planning to do to the woman in the back of this car.