Wild Addiction (Wild #2)(20)
Author: Emma Hart

I want him to smile whenever he looks at me and I want his eyes to laugh when I’m an idiot and I want to feel the strength of the love he has for her directed at me.

Do I want him to love me?

It burns. That question burns so harshly in my mind. Mostly because I already know the answer.

Yes.

I want Tyler Stone to fall in love with me. I want him to fall so far that there’ll be no chance of him ever getting back up.

More than that, I need him to. I crave the idea of him loving me. I want to know that his skin buzzes at my touch. That my kiss ignites a fire inside him. That my voice is a soother to him. That being without me for even twenty-four hours is a completely inconceivable idea.

Because I’m there. I’m teetering on the edge of the fall.

“Liv?” Tyler says softly.

I look at him. “Hm?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been staring at your empty glass for the last five minutes.”

Oops. “Yeah. I’m just tired.” I offer a small smile, and right on cue, I yawn.

“Do you want to leave?” He turns in his chair and runs his fingers through my hair.

“I think I should head home, yeah.” I catch his hand and kiss his wrist. Savor the sensation of his pulse pounding beneath my lips. Imagine that it’s beating wholly for me.

“Want me to come with you?” He leans in, his mouth hovering just in front of mine.

I never want you to leave. I want you to stay always.

I take a deep breath. “It’s okay. You stay with your sister.”

“Are you sure?” He pulls back, questions in his eyes.

Yeah. It wasn’t exactly what I planned to say either, but somehow, I know this is right. I need to be alone tonight.

“Yes.” I rest my hand against his cheek. The slight stubble lining his jaw scratches against my wrist, and shit. I want to rub my fingertips along it the way my cat rubs against my sofa.

“Okay.” He sounds put out. Is it because he wants to come? Because he was hoping I’d say yes?

I pull his face toward mine and press our lips together. The sauvignon lingers on his lips, dry and fruity, and I flick my tongue against his bottom lip to taste it more. To taste him. So that, when I lick my lips before bed, he’ll still be there.

“I’ll walk to you to your car,” he whispers.

“It’s okay.”

“No. I’m walking you to your car.” He gets off the chair and takes me with him. His tone and gaze both tell me that he’s not arguing.

I guess he’s walking me to my car.

He explains to Tessa where we’re going and she nods from the bar, waving goodbye to me. I barely have time to lift my hand in response before Tyler pulls me outside. His fingers slide between mine in a grip that may as well be made of iron. Hard. Sturdy. Unrelenting.

The sounds of the city waft around us, neither of us talking. It’s an odd kind of silence zinging between us—it’s comfortably awkward. Like we both know what needs to be said but neither of us is willing to say it.

Is he thinking the same thing I am?

Is he thinking that maybe he’s falling in love?

Is he just as afraid? Just as apprehensive?

We stop next to my car. Tyler pauses for a moment, his eyes colliding with mine, then pulls me into him. I can barely comprehend his movements right now. Our lips fuse together in a desperate crash full of begs and pleas, full of promises.

If only I knew what we were promising.

Because every touch makes it harder than before.

I wind his hair around my fingers and hold him close. Hold him completely to me, so tight that you’d have to pry my clenched limbs away from him.

With every brush of his lips, I know that this kiss is different. This kiss isn’t sexual or teasing. It’s full of emotion, full of pureness.

Of needing.

Of craving.

Of addiction.

“Sleep tight,” he whispers, ghosting his lips across mine one last time.

“I’ll try,” I whisper back.

Who am I kidding? I won’t sleep tonight. I’ll toss and turn all night long, my skin cold without his touch and my body begging for his oblivion.

I watch him for a moment as he walks down the sidewalk, back to the bar. “Ty?”

He stops, turns, shoves his hands in his pocket. “Baby girl?”

My throat constricts. “Why do you have clothes that fit me? With the tags on? In your apartment?”

His lips twitch, and slowly, they curve at the corners. “Because I live in hope.”

“Of what?”

“That, one day, you and I will be able to be honest with ourselves…and each other.”

Without another word, he spins again and carries on walking.

“Are you telling me in an ass-fucked way that you love me?” I whisper entirely to myself, watching him as he goes.

His words are heavy. Lead weights, they settle low in my stomach, making me want to be sick.

No.

He can’t love me.

I open the front door and stare at the tabby cat that strolls past my feet like he’s only been gone for an hour.

“Well, hello, you dirty little tramp. Where have you been?”

Angus looks at me for a moment before deciding that his empty food bowl is far more worthy of his attention. He meanders to it and sits right in front of it, looking at it forlornly. When I don’t immediately fill it, he turns big, brown eyes on me and stares at me.

“What? You think you can disappear on me for a few days then come back in here one morning demanding food like you own the place?”

He blinks.

“You are such a male. I knew I should have gotten a female kitty.” I huff, stomp across the kitchen, and grab a can of food. I dump it carelessly in the bowl and leave the empty can on the counter.

My phone rings loudly from the sofa and I leap across the apartment to grab it. “Hello?”

“Liv?” My agent’s voice comes through the line.

“Hi.”

“Hi. I have great news! You got the Balfour campaign! You have to be in Mexico in two weeks!”

Holyshititwasn’tajoke.

“Holy shit!” I clap my hand over my mouth. “Sorry. Shit. Oh, shit!”

Sheila laughs. “I’m getting final details now. I will call you when I have them. Then you can come down to the office to look at everything. Okay, I have to go. It’s crazy here. Just wanted to let you know. Bye, honey!”

The line goes dead and I stare at my phone.

I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now. So I do what I’m not supposed to do and grab my car keys.